Hungary’s Day of Honor
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February 1945:Â Budapest lays in smoldering ruins after months of being encircled by the Red Army. Artillery shells rain down onto the snow covered streets of the city, indiscriminately targeting millions of civilians surrounded by a thin line of German and Hungarians soldiers. Desperation and starvation spreads like a plague throughout the city, only the occasional gliders piloted by Hitler Youth daredevils are able to bring in desperately needed relief.
“Festung Budapest” or âFortress Budapestâ is the name given to the city as the outnumbered and starving defenders fight house to house to the final man. This embodied an existential struggle, as both the defenders and civilians faced total annihilation.
The last defenders then decide on a daring breakout attempt. Over 30,000 soldiers and civilians trekked through the grueling ice and snow, only to be intercepted by the waiting Soviet army. The escape quickly becomes a slaughter, as rockets rain down and machine gun fire sweeps through the waves of human bodies.
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Those that do manage to get past the enemy defenses take refuge in the woodlands just outside the city. Pursued by relentless man hunts and low on supplies, many are lured out with the promise of food and humane treatment, but in typical Allied fashion, are then executed on the spot. Out of the 30,000 that tried to break out only 785 survived. Budapest fell shortly after and succumbed to a regime of terror, with mass executions and unspeakable tragedies committed day and night by Soviet forces.
This is why I decided to travel to Budapest, along with hundreds of nationalists from Hungary and beyond, standing in neatly formed ranks to pay our respects to the fallen heroes of that bloody struggle. History must remember the courage of Hungary’s last defenders. Â
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“We have the same enemies today, as we had 75 years ago,” Matthias Deyda’s voice thundered. This event is known as âA Day of Honor ”and has been an ongoing memorial for the last 20 years. Despite heavy handed attempts at repressing the event, including prohibitions on flying to this event, it was still reported as one of the largest turn outs in the events history.
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This march is traditionally done in joint cooperation with German and Hungarian nationalists, but as the wreath laying ceremony took place it was clear that many more patriots from all over Europe came to show solidarity, much like the trans-national Waffen-SS did during the war itself. Delegations came from Russia, Bulgaria, France and other European countries, a symbol of overcoming petty jingoism in the name of Western defense.Â
The well organized event was hosted by Legio Hungary, a newer movement that has been steadily growing. The event went on without any issues, although there was a tiny counter demonstration by “antifa,” who passed by the park. I walked over to take a look at the sorry sight of mentally ill men wearing pink bras over their clothes, along with a large denomination of unlovable cat ladies in pink vagina hats. I was surprised to see a lack of militant black clad antifa that is far more common in more liberal nations like France, Britain and Germany. It seems the left’s push against masculinity and its never ending promotion of feminism has crowded out any real men from their movement, and they are instead doubling down on Brussels backed, Soros-sponsored Starbucks activists dragged along by their blue haired girlfriends. I looked on at the nasty liberals passing by as they beat drums and twerked their way down the street. âWhat were they celebrating?â I wondered, âthe murder of thousands of their own people?â It was clear their only purpose was to march on the graves of countless innocent people killed in cold blood.Â
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As we left the commemoration hundreds of men dressed in Wehrmacht and Hungarian uniforms came to also pay respects and pass through the park. This was part of a grueling 60 kilometer march that followed the same path the soldiers took on that fateful winter night in 1945.
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Night set upon the city and my next stop was a NSHC concert with bands like âGreen Arrowsâ performing for a joyous and solidarity infused crowd, who drank merrily and enthusiastically sang along with every word. I found out that me and my comrade were the only Americans to ever attend the day’s events, and many were surprised that we didn’t resemble the movie American History X or like the overweight klansmen that some European nationalists associate with the US scene. We were warmly greeted as honored guests by our new comrades and invited to take part in the candle lighting ceremony that would take place the next night along the streets where some of the most vicious fighting occurred.
What impressed me most and what I realized is this commemoration was a grassroots effort by nationalists and patriots. It started in 1997 with less than 200 people. Today it attracts comrades from all over the continent and now from across the Atlantic.
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To me this is something I think we’re missing in our American scene, our own days of honor to bring American nationalists from all different groups and states together in solidarity. I know our history has been heavily perverted and we may not have events as dramatic as the breakout of Budapest or Dresden (another day of commemoration) but we do have heroes and martyrs in our history too. Battles like âCuster’s last standâ or for the victims of the many race riots that left our people dead like in Detroit in 1943 and 1967 or even something like the Ludlow massacre where federal agents taking orders from corporations killed white striking workers demanding the 8 hour work should be etched in our national consciousness rather than taken for granted.Â
Under our neoliberal regime honoring our forefathers is a radical act. Our foes desperately try to scrub away our history removing statues, censoring information and the pouring out of endless propaganda, all aimed at making us a stateless and raceless people. That is why it’s more important than ever to not let the deeds of the past be forgotten. As Kurt Eggers once said â the actions of the brave become the torches of tomorrow.â
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