Alexandru Ghica – the confessing voice of a humiliated nation

One of the following days the cell doors were opened and all the prisoners were led out over the railings. On the second floor was Major Muntean, in the middle of a group of gendarmes with automatic weapons pointed at us. He was wearing a magistrate’s uniform with his hands in his cape. He began contemptuously:

“Look at yourselves, look at how you look, and you wanted to rule Romania! Look at the state you’ve ended up in! Ask for forgiveness until there are more who are willing to give it! From now on, I’ll make sure that Aiud is a prison, not a retirement home”.

The prisoners did indeed look pitiful. Some tall men in short clothes looked like bird-catchers, others short men in big clothes looked like beggars. The prison caps and the unshaven faces (because the razors had been removed) erased any trace of personality from the faces. We looked at each other and didn’t recognise each other.

Major Muntean continued mockingly and threateningly for a while, then asked if anyone had anything to say. Alexandru Ghica took the floor. He was one of the few for whom no uniform could detract from his imposing quality.

“I am Alexandru Ghica…”

“You were,” the Major interjected mischievously, “now you’re a number!

“And I will always be Alexandru Ghica, Major Munteanu! I must say that in history, the mockery and humiliation of a nation turns against the one who orders it and those who carry it out”.

“Enough,” Major Munteanu replied nervously, “get into the cell! The new guards hurried to carry out the orders. It must be said that with the war, an influx of personnel recruited from all the regime’s insiders and protégés appeared among the police, gendarmerie and prison guards, ready to carry out any order just to escape the front.

(Ion Gavrilă Ogoranu – Brazii se frâng dar nu se îndoiesc. La pas prin frăția de cruce)