Le Chambon-sur-Lignon
November 20, 1942
The loss of Algiers to the Allies and the sinking of the French fleet led to the German occupation of the formerly unoccupied zone of France. The French officials at Vichy continued overseeing some aspects of governance, but the Germans controlled the nation’s land, borders, and resources. The Gestapo commenced the purging of southern France, especially Marseille, where hundreds of refugees had hidden with the hope of fleeing to Africa or the United States.
The arrival of hundreds of exiles to Le Chambon-sur-Lignon and the surrounding villages had far surpassed the expectations of Trocmé and the coalition of pastors and organizations that provided assistance to the persecuted. There, the refugees hid in houses and hoped to continue their flight after the harsh winter that was coming.
Jacob and Moses spent a relatively peaceful couple of months in the Maison des Roches alongside their classmates, now under the care of André Trocmé’s cousin Daniel, but they did not dare walk alone to the church or the pastor’s home. Jean-Pierre came every afternoon to their boardinghouse and played until dark. The nights were getting colder and colder, the sunshine less intense in the day, and the first snows were accumulating on the mountaintops. Within a matter of weeks, winter would have completely isolated the valley.
That afternoon, the three boys were playing happily when Anna came up. She was trembling. Her brown dress and pink jacket were splotched with mud, and her eyes were raw and red from crying. When Jacob glanced up and saw her, he asked, “Anna, are you okay?” She threw herself into his arms and sobbed. “What’s going on?” he asked, bewildered.
“They’ve taken my mother. I was with some friends. They came to the house, and the gendarmes and the policeman took her.”
Jacob knew the policeman she spoke of was Léopold Praly. He had been lurking about the village all summer and had taken up permanent residence the week before. The refugees avoided all contact with him. With his leather jacket and hat pulled down firmly over his eyes, he seemed more like a movie gangster than an agent of the law.
“Have you told Pastor Trocmé?” Jacob asked.
“No, I didn’t know what to do,” she said, unable to stop crying.
All four of the children ran to the church and burst into Trocmé’s office without knocking. Jittery, Jacob blurted out, “They took Anna’s mother!”
Wasting no time, Trocmé grabbed his coat from the hook and hurried with the children to the town hall. Praly did not have an official office but was staying in a nearby hotel. Trocmé spotted him sitting at a restaurant. Battling his anger, Trocmé approached the inspector.
“Reverend Trocmé, to what do I owe this honor? I thought you and your congregation were no friends of public officials.”
Trocmé took a deep breath, carefully relaxed his shoulders, and mustered a smile. “I’ve come to speak to you about an important matter. It seems the police have detained Mrs. Emdem, an upstanding member of our community—”
“And a Jew,” the inspector spat out.
“And since when is it against the law in France to be Jewish?”
“Where have you been all this time, Trocmé? Back in October 1940, the president signed laws limiting the freedom of Jews—but the woman of which you speak was detained under the auspices of the Jewish Statute passed on June 2, 1941, thanks to the Commissariat for Jewish Affairs. All resident Jews lose their rights and will be deported to their country of origin. So it must be that you are in breach of these laws out of ignorance, not outright rebellion. Forgive me, I had assumed your congregation was a nest of communists. You were one of the first conscientious objectors among the clergy, refusing to serve your country, and you all have created a sort of Christian socialism, with your cooperatives and communist values. Are you still unaware of what communists do with Christians?”
Trocmé was not there to argue with the inspector. He frowned away Praly’s monologue and asked directly, “Have you already taken Mrs. Emdem away?”
“I fear she’s on her way to Le Puy. There’s nothing to be done for her.”
Trocmé turned and walked out without saying goodbye. The roads were in too poor a condition to travel close to dark, so he would have to go the next day to the prefecture and intercede on behalf of the poor woman.
The children waited outside the restaurant. Anna, her head propped on Jacob’s shoulder, had not stopped crying. Trocmé approached and hugged her. “We’ll get to the bottom of it. You all come back home with me, and we’ll have supper together. Anna can sleep with Nelly tonight,” he said, stroking Anna’s hair to calm her. Nelly could help distract Anna enough to get her through the night.
They made their way slowly back to the parsonage. It was a cold afternoon, and the clouds announced impending snow. There had already been a few snowfalls that season, but they were due for a storm. Trocmé thought about how the whiteness of the snow could make even the most worn-down, ugly things look beautiful and new. Love was something like that, he reasoned, capable of covering a multitude of sins.
Magda surmised easily enough what had occurred when she saw them troop into the house. She greeted Anna with a kiss, bent down, and with a sweet smile said, “You and Nelly can help me get supper ready. Then I think we’ll bake a cake. Tomorrow it’s one of the children’s birthdays.”
Anna nodded, tears still in her eyes. It was hard for Jacob to leave her, but he eventually wandered back to the boys’ room and started playing with them. An hour later, they were all called for supper.
The table was packed with children. Despite the heaviness of Mrs. Emdem’s detention, they were grateful to be together. Trocmé marveled once again at the treasure of childhood innocence, then thought of his own childhood with a distant, demanding father who never forgave himself for causing the accident that took the life of Trocmé’s mother. Childhood had been sad for him. Adolescence had improved things, as he found the answers to his existential doubts and discovered his vocation as a pastor. Life had not been easy. The Great War had shown him what atrocities the human race was capable of. And his stay in the United States for seminary while he also tutored the children of the multimillionaire John D. Rockefeller was a crucial turning point in his life, because it was then that he met Magda.
After the prayer, the children dug into the food. Trocmé and Magda asked them about their day, their classes, and the games they played before focusing on conversation between themselves.
“Things are getting more difficult with each passing day. We haven’t faced any shortages up to now, but there are few supplies to be had. Some of the wealthier refugees are hoarding food. We have to do something. People could start complaining and even denounce someone out of frustration,” Magda said, exasperated.
“I know,” Trocmé said, “but it isn’t that simple. I’ll tell you one thing: Since the Germans took over the whole of France, the number of refugees has skyrocketed. People are coming from Marseille and all over. Some have gone into hiding in the parts occupied by Italy, but most have hidden in rural areas. Now there are police in the village, and there are Gestapo raids in Lyon, Valence, and even Le Puy. It won’t be long ’til they come here.”
Magda shuddered. She was nothing but brave, but even so, the word Gestapo sent chills up her spine. She was exhausted, and it had begun to affect her health. “I’m afraid,” she said in a wearied, unfiltered moment. She tried to be strong at all times, but even she was wearing down.
“Nothing’s going to happen to us. We must have faith.”
“Yes, but I’m not afraid for myself. What happens if they arrest you? What will people like that do to the children?”
Trocmé made a gesture for them to change the subject. He knew the children had ears for such comments even if they acted like they were paying no attention. “We’ve managed to overcome all the obstacles up ’til now. Do you remember when we were stationed in Maubeuge, how hard things were there? We were so young . . . Those workers endured subhuman living conditions. Then the pastoral commission denied us a pastorate in several different churches, until they sent us here to Le Chambon-sur-Lignon. God wanted us to come here. He has always guided our steps. What must happen will happen.”
Jacob listened to the end of the Trocmés’ conversation, worried about Anna but also for Moses. By the skin of their teeth they had escaped the raids in August and September. Now the Germans were all over the country, and the dreaded inspector Léopold Praly was always around town. He had the feeling that their little paradise was gradually turning into the hell that the rest of France and Europe had already become.
“I’d better take the rest of you back to your rooms. Anna, you can stay with us tonight,” Trocmé said, getting to his feet.
The boys followed Trocmé’s example, but Jacob crossed over to Anna before leaving the room. “It’s going to be okay. You can always let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Jacob,” she said, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek. The feel of her lips on his cheek overwhelmed him with a moment of inordinate happiness. He floated out of the room on a cloud. He did not even care that Moses mocked him.
The first snowflakes fell as Trocmé walked them down the street. He raised his hand and watched the snowflakes melt upon contact with his warm skin. “It’s one of the most beautiful things in the world,” he murmured, looking at the black sky.
The boys were excited, thinking about what they would find upon waking in the morning. The great white blanket would allow them to forget for a few days the black shroud creeping over more and more of their world. The war stretched from north to south and east to west, a great stain of death and destruction bound to devour everything in its path—even the secret valley of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon, where all hope had not yet been lost.