Lyon
August 27, 1942
In her twenty-one years of life, Lili had seen many things she was not prepared for. The war had stolen the innocence and joy of life from more than one generation. But Lili was not one to lie down in defeat. Lili had joined the OSE, the same organization where Georges Garel worked, and given her youthful energies to helping the children of France. She was on a project spearheaded by Charles Lederman. Since the Nazis came to power in 1933, the trickle of refugees, particularly Jews, had grown into a flood. Having come from a family of Russian Jews, Lili knew what exile and persecution were. She and her family had fled Paris and hoped that the unoccupied zone would be safer as things turned uglier in France.
She was a fearless young woman. In November 1940, not long after the Nazis had set up shop in the country, Lili had brazenly participated in a protest in front of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. When her father was forbidden from practicing his profession, the family had an inkling of how bad things might get. That is when Lili decided to support the teams working to help children in French internment camps. In the camps she met Joseph Weill, who had suggested she join the operation to rescue the children of Lyon.
Like the rest of the volunteers, Lili was deeply concerned. A few days before, on August 11, a train destined for Drancy stopped in the city, and the abject conditions faced by the passengers came to light. Rabbi Kaplan had recounted with vivid detail to Lili and the team what he had seen. The train was stopped for several hours. The people crammed inside begged for water, food, and for a bathroom. The rabbi went up to one of the cars to pray for the passengers. He heard a woman begging for help, begging for someone to do something about what was going on. This was not an isolated event. The mistreatment and harassment of the Jews was spreading throughout the country, but most people turned a blind eye and hoped that the angel of death would pass them by.
Rabbi Kaplan had written to Cardinal Gerlier and then had paid him a visit. Up to then, the Catholic Church had not taken a formal position. Its silence owed to several factors. On the one hand, the Catholic hierarchy feared that squarely opposing the Vichy regime would block their efforts to assist the refugees and would bring an end to any privileges the church enjoyed. On the other hand, bringing the problems into the light might intensify negative repercussions against political and religious dissidents.
As a volunteer at Vénissieux, Lili attended the meeting that morning at the OSE office. There were several organizations represented, and Gilbert Lesage presided.
“The authorities have made it very clear that they intend to send over a thousand refugees to Germany and will tolerate almost no exemptions. The only one currently allowed is for unaccompanied minors, which allows us to save two or three, perhaps four, children total.”
“That’s unacceptable!” Rabbi Kaplan exclaimed.
Similarly disgruntled cries arose from those the various volunteers and organizations represented.
Madeleine looked at her colleagues and spoke gravely. “The only solution that I see is to increase the number of unaccompanied minors.”
Eyebrows raised all around the room, and heads cocked with hesitant curiosity in Madeleine’s direction.
“And how do we go about doing that?” Jacques Helbronner, president of the Consistoire Central des Israelites de France, the Central Consistory of French Jews, asked.
“We ask parents to relinquish custody of their children.”
A long, uncomfortable silence ensued. Everyone mulled over exactly what that meant.
“You’re suggesting we separate the children from their parents?” Rabbi Kaplan asked.
Madeleine shot straight. “It’s the only option I see. Between today and tomorrow the men will be shipped off. The rest will be gone by the twenty-ninth at the latest and sooner if the transports materialize. We’re working against the clock, and everyone we ask for help gives us the same answer. No one in the government is going to lift a finger to help the Jews or risk their neck in front of the Nazis.”
Lili spoke for the first time. “But it’s criminal to ask parents to do that. We’d be taking their children from them.”
“We all know what’s happening with the Jews in the ghettoes of Poland and other countries, and we know the deplorable conditions of the German concentration camps. Children under thirteen or fourteen years of age will never survive if they’re deported to Germany or Poland,” Glasberg added.
Everyone looked at one another, knowing that the priest was right but not knowing what to say about it.
“Well,” Gilbert said reluctantly, “this presents three challenges. First, acquiring all the abdications of parental responsibility today and tomorrow. We’ve got to explain how serious the situation is to the parents, though this may cause them even more trauma. Second, transporting all those children. We have no idea how many there will be. And third, figuring out where to place them. This could be up to one hundred minors.” The rest of the workers started taking notes.
Jacques said, “Here in this room we’ve got representatives from the Red Cross, Amitié Chrétienne, the OSE, the Boy Scouts, and other organizations. Working all together, we can pull this off. But we’ve got to get started ASAP.”
“We’ll work up a document template for relinquishing paternal rights for parents to sign,” Madeleine volunteered.
“We’ll work on arranging transportation,” Glasberg offered.
“We’ll help with finding families to take the children,” Rabbi Kaplan said.
The meeting wrapped up a few minutes later. The attendees were exhausted by the daunting task of asking parents to give up their sons and daughters, but they knew that the alternative was much worse.