7 April 1945, 14:00
The fine lunch was served, which was again bean soup — but without any salt. One can imagine how good it must have been. After lunch I somehow talked myself into shaving, though I had neither soap nor a mirror; I managed to borrow these from a comrade. I had a week and a half's worth of beard and looked like a decrepit old man. There is still no word about departure.
7 April 1945, 16:00
Things have been quiet until now. Quite surprisingly, four of us shared one loaf of bread — also without salt — and that was supper.
8 April 1945, 10:00
Today I woke to great commotion. Everyone is saying we're leaving, we're leaving. We quickly got ourselves ready, which didn't take long. Formed up in groups of 100, we set off towards Zalaegerszeg at 10:30. At the edge of the town we had to wait a long time for the carts following behind us. They arrived at around 2 in the afternoon, so off we went. We made it as far as Zalabér. At the edge of the village there was a clearing where we found a haystack, and we spent the night there. The five thousand people rushed the haystack so that within half an hour there was nothing left of it — just the spot where it had been. And yet there had been enough for about 50 cartloads. Along the way the treatment was very bad and rough. People were not allowed to fetch water from the roadside wells. They were beaten and sworn at. The night was so cold that sleep was impossible. After dark, two oxen were slaughtered and cooked through the night, then distributed for breakfast. Each portion was perhaps 3–4 decagrams. I stayed by the field kitchen all night to keep warm, and this turned out to be fortunate, because when the first cauldron was ready I managed to get a piece, which did me a great deal of good as I had eaten nothing all day. I got a second piece too, but didn't dare eat it and kept it for the next day. Slowly, dawn broke.