Lyon
August 29, 1942
They arrived at the convent at six in the morning, when the soaked streets of Lyon were still empty and the sun impatiently tried to reinsert itself over the previous day’s storm. It would be another scorching day. The clouds had dissipated and the wind blew up from the south again, making the buses uncomfortably hot. Before the children in the first bus were allowed to get off, Lili stood and spoke to the rest of the adult workers and teenage helpers.
“We’ve got to get out in complete silence again. The less attention we draw to ourselves, the better. This neighborhood is used to seeing children coming in and out of these grounds, but not usually at this hour of the day.”
Most of the young children were asleep. The older ones were nearly catatonic after the night of strong emotions and no rest. They stared blankly with resignation about whatever lay ahead.
The first volunteers got down from the bus with the youngest children and quickly crossed the short distance to the side door. There the shade of plane trees hid them from the curiosity of any onlookers. As the children began entering the convent, Lili glanced around for the car where Georges still sat, and her eyes met his. She could not deny that over the past few days, as they planned out that harebrained rescue operation, she had begun to feel something for the man. She did not know if it was love or just the capricious result of the extreme adventure they were living. Working for the Resistance and facing constant life-and-death danger was certainly stressful. At the same time, it kept Lili in a state of perpetually heightened emotions.
The motor of the Citroën revved up. Father Glasberg wanted to alert his superior, Cardinal Gerlier, right away of their progress. Lili watched the car drive away and felt the pang of separation. Every time Georges went away from her, she wondered if she would ever see him again.
The children walked through the convent yard in silence as the Carmelite brothers lit the way with lanterns and led them to a large, unused room. The number of monks was greatly reduced from the convent’s early days, and several sections of the grounds and buildings were permanently closed off. The hall to which the monks led the children was spacious enough to hold them all. It would not be needed long. The plan was, within twenty-four hours, to place the children in safe homes. The workers knew that it would not take the Nazis and the gendarmes long to track them to the convent. They were also sure that, if that occurred, the children would be captured again and sent by train to Germany right away, even if such action meant sidestepping the laws of the Third Republic and of morality.
The Jewish Scouts had spread hay on the ground to soften the surface so the children could rest. As the boys and girls settled into the straw, Joseph Weill went to an adjacent room and studied his notebook with the list of the children’s names and the families that would come to retrieve them. Placing the children was tedious work. First, it was not easy to locate enough families willing to risk their lives for the sake of strangers. Second, in some cases the families would have to take in several children together so as not to separate brothers and sisters from one another. The rest of the children would be dispersed to the various camps and homes run by Jews in different châteaus in the regions surrounding Lyon.
The older children had been so helpful in taking care of the younger ones during the most sensitive moments of the escape. Lili suggested that they be the first to shower. A little water would help revive them. Then they could go to a nearby room for breakfast. The friars had prepared a simple meal of toast, cheese, and milk.
As Lili oversaw the older children, Élisabeth focused on the younger ones. They were starting to wake up. Many of them, bewildered and scared, called for their mothers and recommenced their crying. Élisabeth knew that as soon as their basic needs for rest, food, and cleanliness were met, they would be calmer.
Several volunteers helped Élisabeth get the younger children bathed. It had been several days since they had been able to tend to the most basic hygiene. The workers gently scrubbed off all the grime accumulated at Vénissieux, then dressed the boys and girls in clean clothes and took the children to the improvised dining hall. After many days of extremely meager rations, the children clapped excitedly to see the white bread and fresh milk. They scarfed down all that they were offered.
The first families were scheduled to arrive at nine thirty in the morning. The workers knew the day would be as long and arduous as the previous few had been, though with different risk factors. Everything had to be done with haste and order and, above all, without raising the suspicions of the neighbors or any authorities.
Lili had prepared a program of activities for when the children awoke. They would pass the long wait better if they were pleasantly distracted, and this way the workers could perhaps keep the crying to a minimum. The convent walls were thick, but a child’s wail had a way of traveling. Lili had hung long curtains along one side of the hall. Youth actors from the troupe Jeune France came to demonstrate local dances and lead the children in songs and games.
Meanwhile, Madeleine called together the older teenagers. Very few families had been able to accept an older adolescent, so most of the teens would go to a Jewish Scouts camp in Haute-Loire until they could be placed in a long-term home.
“Here are the scout uniforms to put on. This way people won’t suspect you,” she told them.
The adolescents eyed the uniforms warily. They looked like military wear, and these children had been running from such uniformed people for years. But they finally accepted the clothing, and the girls went behind one curtain and the boys another to change.
One of the girls who had helped the volunteers the most held the uniform at an awkward angle and did not move toward the curtains. Lili went up to her.
“You all right, Lotte?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to go to the scouts’ camp. My father told me to try to get back together with my brothers and sisters. They’re here in Lyon. I know the address.”
“Are you sure that’s what you prefer? It’s dangerous to be out on the streets. I know that the gendarmes are looking all over for us.”
Lotte Levy gave the social worker a confident smile. “I want to see my family. I’d rather be captured again than go any farther away from them. I have a feeling that if I leave Lyon, I’ll never see them again.”
Lili hugged the young woman. Despite her surety, Lotte cried softly onto Lili’s shoulder.
“Do you have any money?” Lili asked.
The girl wiped her tears and nose and shook her head.
Lili handed her what she would need for the trolley and said, “One of our workers will go with you to the stop and see you on your way to Villeurbanne.”
“They don’t have to do that.”
“It’s safer that way. You’ll look less suspicious if there’s an adult with you.”
Lotte said goodbye to the social workers and looked one last time at the children. They were still in danger, but at least they were not on the trains, headed for death like their parents.
Lotte left with one of the volunteers. They went down the stairs of the hill where the convent sat and reached the plaza where the trolley passed. The worker kissed Lotte on the forehead and waved her off. Lotte watched the streets of Lyon from the trolley window. They were starting to bustle with people. Twice she felt herself nodding off but forced herself to stay alert.
In Villeurbanne, she looked all around but was unsure in which direction the house lay. She felt lost and wanted to cry. Then she heard something she never would have expected.
“Lotte!”
It was a familiar voice: her older brother! He swooped her up in a hug and wept with her. With his hand in hers, he led her back to the home of the family that was housing the Levy siblings.
“Do you know what’s become of Mom and Dad?” he asked cautiously.
Lotte looked at him steadily. He had grown in the weeks they had been separated. He was so thin, and his white skin contrasted starkly with his black hair and dark brown eyes.
She wanted him to know the truth, though it would have been easier to lie.
“They . . . they were sent to Germany.” Her voice was barely audible.
“Will they come back?”
Lotte was quiet as she gathered her thoughts. Then she shrugged and said, “I don’t know, but we’re not going to give up hope. We’ve been in danger other times, and we’ve somehow survived up to now. The important thing is that we’re back together again.”
The siblings made their way up the avenue, then turned down a narrow side street. The blue sky was peeking out between the old, soot-covered buildings. That place was no paradise, but it would allow them to hold out a bit longer. Freedom might lie just around the corner, or perhaps it was out of reach forever. Both children had learned by then that the only way to bear up under the uncertainty and fear was to simply live one moment at a time, aware that it might be the last.