The express train left Budapest in the early afternoon and halted at the Enns bridge just after midnight. It was the summer of 1948. A Russian soldier checked passports—indifferently. At the time it was still possible to travel, or escape: The night was still. The train started up soundlessly. After a few moments, we left the bridge and travelled on in the star-studded night toward the world where no one was waiting for us. In this moment—for the first time in my life—I really felt fear. I realized I was free. I began to feel fear. The penalty for freedom,…