The Old Shoes of the Danube

On a quiet stretch of the Danube in Budapest, a collection of iron shoes lines the stone embankment.

Men’s boots. Women’s heels. A child’s small lace-up.

They do not match. They do not move.

They are not here by accident.

These shoes honor the memory of thousands of Hungarian Jews who, in the winter of 1944–1945, were dragged to this very riverbank by the fascist Arrow Cross militia.

There, they were forced to remove their shoes—the only part of them the killers deemed worth keeping.

Then they were shot at the edge of the river, their bodies swept away by the cold current of the Danube.

On May Day, Jewish residents are joined by those of other faiths, and the group marches to the site to commemorate those who died on the Danube banks..

Some leave daisies. Others ribbons. All issue silent thoughts and prayers.   

Standing there, they know the shoes hold a story of horror and inhumanity. 

They know each empty shoe stands for a life interrupted. 

They know we must remember; we must never forget. And, most importantly of all, they know we must do all we can to never let the terror that was Adolf Hitler and The Third Reich happen again.