One day last week, in a wooden shack on the edge of an Austrian D.P. camp in Salzburg, a wide-eyed little boy ate chocolate cake and drank coffee with whipped cream for the first time in his life. With his father, mother and two younger sisters, he had just escaped from Hungary. Casually, without taking his attention from the food, the skinny seven-year-old answered a few questions. There was no need for him to concentrate; in his one year at the People's Democratic School in Budapest he had been trained well. The answers came easily and quickly.
Q. What is your name?...
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