“In April, 1943, he [Bela] was in a mukatabor, a forced labor camp on the outskirts of Budapest, working in a munitions factory. One day, the air-raid siren sounded, signaling an imminent attack by enemy aircraft. Before anyone could take shelter, a large bomb came crashing through the roof. It ignited the phosphorous supply and sent a searing flash of fire through the plant. My father lost consciousness and fell to the floor. He was taken to a hospital in Budapest, where he convalesced for many months. The explosion of the bomb at close quarters had punctured his eardrums, while the phosphoric blaze had burned off all his hair and turned the skin of his face totally black. This skin eventually peeled off, exposing a baby-pink new epidermis. Thus, my father explained his youthful-looking face.”
The prism: messages prompted by a bifurcated gravestone
Hillel GoldbergMar 18, 2021
The son of Bela Rubinstein (1908-1967) always wondered why his father sustained a youthful appearance even into old age. Bela Rubinstein was rosy-cheeked and wrinkle free. His explanation, as recorded by his son:
“In April, 1943, he [Bela] was in a mukatabor, a forced labor camp on the outskirts of Budapest, working in a munitions factory. One day, the air-raid siren sounded, signaling an imminent attack by enemy aircraft. Before anyone could take shelter, a large bomb came crashing through the roof. It ignited the phosphorous supply and sent a searing flash of fire through the plant. My father lost consciousness and fell to the floor. He was taken to a hospital in Budapest, where he convalesced for many months. The explosion of the bomb at close quarters had punctured his eardrums, while the phosphoric blaze had burned off all his hair and turned the skin of his face totally black. This skin eventually peeled off, exposing a baby-pink new epidermis. Thus, my father explained his youthful-looking face.”
“In April, 1943, he [Bela] was in a mukatabor, a forced labor camp on the outskirts of Budapest, working in a munitions factory. One day, the air-raid siren sounded, signaling an imminent attack by enemy aircraft. Before anyone could take shelter, a large bomb came crashing through the roof. It ignited the phosphorous supply and sent a searing flash of fire through the plant. My father lost consciousness and fell to the floor. He was taken to a hospital in Budapest, where he convalesced for many months. The explosion of the bomb at close quarters had punctured his eardrums, while the phosphoric blaze had burned off all his hair and turned the skin of his face totally black. This skin eventually peeled off, exposing a baby-pink new epidermis. Thus, my father explained his youthful-looking face.”
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