Last Letters of The Manouchian Group February 21, 1944

Imre Glasz

Source: Philippe Ganier Raymond. L'Affiche Rouge, Fayard, Paris. 1975;
Translated: for by Mitch Abidor.

The Hungarian Imre Glasz wrote to his child and to his wife Ila, who had also been an active member of the FTP-MOI. Note: all the awkwardness of expression is in the original French, which was Glasz learned late in life.

My little wife Ila and Borsi:

These are the last hours of my life. We go before the firing squad at three o'clock in the afternoon. One page won’t suffice to write all I'd like. My little Ila, I kiss you and love you infinitely. I hope you'll get better and can yet be healthy. Be as optimistic as I am. I have nothing for which to reproach myself; I have lived like a man and want to die like one. Life has no great value without freedom, and those who don’t fight for their life don’t deserve it. As for me, I wish for a much better life. Raise and educate your children to show them life as it is. I'm not moved, but it’s so cold that I can’t write. Just this minute we received a package from the Red Cross, and we're eating it so as not to go to the beyond on an empty stomach. All I regret is not to have fulfilled my dreams, to make the world better. I ask you to keep my affairs Ila can do with them whatever she wants. If you can, send some money to Hungary for my father who is very poor and is 80-years old. My darlings, I kiss you a thousand times and wish you all that is good. Ila don’t forget me as I will not forget her. It’s funny, I am a poor spirit, in the cell we can’t write. I have thousands and thousands of friends, I can’t give their names there isn’t enough room. I kiss all of them, all of them. We have fallen in the struggle, but they'll have a life other than ours. Forgive me for not being a man crying at the edge of his life, but courageous and ready to die. My little Ila, Borsi, little André and Odette, all those who are dear to me. Let all the goodness that I have in me be with you in your life. I kiss you for the last time. A thousand kisses.

Glasz Imre