It was a long and bewildering night. Most of the shooting was just at the Radio, rather than any particular part of it or any specific target. People had fun simply shooting at the bricks. There was also a protracted exchange of fire with the other end of Sándor Bródy utca during a fear of AVO reinforcements coming. It turned out to be another group of self-armed listeners of the Radio wishing to register their complaints.

Tired and cold, Gyuri nevertheless came to the conclusion he could never forgive himself if he didn’t do a stint of shooting. He sidled up to one well-dressed combatant and asked him where he had obtained his gun. ‘A soldier gave it to me. But if you want one, please take mine. I have to go. It pulls a little to the left.’ Here he peered lengthily at his watch in the dark. ‘I was hoping to knock off an AVO but the wife will be wondering where I am. A gunfight at the Radio won’t be an acceptable excuse.’

At about two in the morning, Gyuri and some others slipped into an adjacent courtyard to see if they could gain entry to a top-floor flat. They found a group of five AVO men huddled in a corner, without weapons and without any inclination to fight.

‘Shouldn’t you be in the Radio building? Defending the gains of the people?’ asked one of Gyuri’s group sarcastically.

‘Do you think we’re going to die for a bunch of fucking Communists?’ retorted one of the AVO men indignantly. Unfortunately they were so pathetic, no one even wanted to kick them a bit. As they were pondering what to do with them, a charming pensioner appeared in her dressing gown and asked if anyone would like tea or coffee. ‘I’ve got a few crackers as well,’ she said, ‘but nothing more. I wasn’t counting on company.’ She brought them all a drink and got very angry when someone tried to give her some money. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

After his tea, Gyuri who still hadn’t fired a shot, went into the old lady’s flat, introduced himself to her husband, opened their windows and fired off three shots in the general direction of the Radio. He closed the window and thanked the couple for their co-operation. He felt much, much better. He had taken part.

Around six o’ clock it dawned on the people besieging that there was no one inside trying to stop them getting in. Going in, they found a few AVO rigors, but to their embarrassment it looked as if most of the garrison had slipped out a back door. One or two shamefaced broadcasters were discovered hiding under desks or in broom-cupboards. One enthusiastic youth, who couldn’t have been more than fifteen, called them brothers and exhorted them to take up arms for the revolution. You could tell it was a revolution because this appeal didn’t sound ridiculous. Revolution. It was the first time Gyuri had heard the word mentioned in regard to the proceedings. And why not? Not surprisingly the presenters readily expressed their readiness to do what was requested. It’s amazing how much respect people have for you when you have a gun and they don’t, thought Gyuri.

The studios were empty, with the signs of hasty retreat, but from a radio they could hear music being played as if it were a normal Wednesday morning. They were transmitting from somewhere else. ‘Now what do we do?’ said one of the victors putting his finger on the issue. Gyuri passed his rifle to another enthusiastic but unarmed youth and walked home.

In front of the Keleti Station he saw a convoy of unmistakably Soviet armoured personnel carriers and tanks clattering along. Well, it had been a laugh while it lasted.

He got home to find Elek breakfasting modestly in the kitchen.

‘Don’t tell me you’ve missed her,’ he said, looking shocked. Without waiting for further illumination, Gyuri ran out and explored the neighbouring streets persistently. It was ridiculous. He was going to stick to his philosophy of staying in bed (Pataki’s departure had brought him a new sleep machine to replace the one he had burned in Spartan ardour) until Jadwiga turned up.

‘Imre Nagy has been on the radio,’ said Elek. ‘Did you hear?’

‘No, I missed that.’

‘He’s Prime Minister again. He’s asked everyone to calm down.’

‘He’s going to have to ask very hard indeed,’ mumbled Gyuri from his bed.

On his way to the Technical University, he saw an AVO man taking a flying lesson. He had woken on the afternoon after an unsatisfying six hours’ repose, romance and other adrenalin-pumpers marring his sleep, and he had determined to head tc the University since all the studenty activities were probably being co-ordinated from there. ‘Listen,’ he said to Elek, who felt events justified a day off at home, ‘I’ll be back at eight on the dot, regardless of how interesting the revolution is. Tell Jadwiga she should wait if she comes home.’

Outside, there was the sound of remote gunfire, at the right sort of distance to be piquant but not trouser-soiling. At the Lenin Körút, people had obtained ladders to help pull down the street signs with Lenin Körút on them. A crowd had formed to enjoy this but suddenly there was a scuffle, and a round-faced man in a raincoat was seized by those around him to shrieks of ‘AVO! AVO!’ Gyuri couldn’t tell what had given him away, but there was no doubt that the charge was correct. The round-faced man produced a pistol, and ended his career by firing off two shots, severely wounding a tree. Held by eight pairs of hands, his documents were examined. Then someone said: ‘Let’s give him a flying lesson.’

So they did. He was conducted to a rooftop and made to walk a non-existent plank. The AVO man wasn’t much good at flying. He came straight down and squandered all his energy on screaming.

People didn’t cheer this but nor were they bothered. It was about right. Some public-spirited citizens started to drag the body out of the road, and as they were doing this, a diminutive, silent fellow next to Gyuri, who had been watching all this as if waiting for a bus, threw himself on the body without warning, stabbing away with a penknife as if he were hammering on a door, shouting ‘You killed my brother, you killed my brother’ with the same monotony as his stabbing. The others were perplexed as to what to do, but interrupting his rage would have been impolite.

Gyuri had thought the disturbances would be over by now, that the flirtation with liberty would be a one-night stand. But clearly, people were still doing whatever they felt like. What were the Russians up to?

In the centre of the city, closer to the University, Gyuri saw Russian tanks parked menacingly here and there, trying to look aggressive and unobtrusive at the same time but he didn’t witness any fighting.

Immediately, at the university, Gyuri found Laci, with a tricolour band around his arm and sporting a pistol in a holster. Clearly he was in Laci’s orbit just as he was out of Jadwiga’s. In the main hallway of the University the standard fashion accessory seemed to be a firearm, either a davai guitar, or as a minimum, a revolver. Gyuri was expecting Laci to tell him that Jadwiga had just been looking for him, but he hadn’t seen her at all.

Laci was shaken: ‘We were attacked this morning. Some AVO men in a car drove past, they opened up, killed one of us. I had a machine gun, I had them in my sights… Gyuri, I simply couldn’t pull the trigger.’

So there it was. The shock of being an idealist. Some people can’t tell jokes or touch their toes. Laci can’t pull a trigger. It was funny, his brother would have been trotting around with extra magazines. As Gyuri commiserated with him, another student joined them. ‘Hey, Gyuri, are you enjoying the revolution? Do you want to see our AVO collection?’

The chemistry lecture hall contained twelve predictably miserable AVO employees who had been acquired by student patrols. They were being tortured by a student who was outlining their prospects under the principles of international law and natural justice; how they would be formally, correctly and legally investigated by a properly constituted body and if they had committed any illegal acts they would have to stand trial. Surveying the hunched figures, surrounded by half-eaten plates of spinach casserole (which even starving students found hard work), Gyuri thought how lucky they were to be captured by students, and not walking non-existent planks.