Communists: No End to Liberation

A cloud hung over the agony of Budapest—part fog, part gun smoke, part dust. It muffled the thump of mortars and draped the spires of shattered cathedrals in dark, chilly folds. For miles around, the snow was black with soot. Heavy hoarfrost formed each night; and in the morning the dead in the streets glittered. Under the cloud and over the dead raged one of World War II's grimmest street battles. By the time the Red Army had cleared the city's 4,500 blocks of their stubborn German defenders, Budapest was a surrealist's...

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