Lyon
August 29, 1942
The members of the rescue committee were at their wit’s end. Some of the families who had agreed to house children rescued from Vénissieux had backed out. By ten o’clock at night, there were still too many children left in the convent. If things had gone according to plan, by that time all the children would be safe in their respective new homes, or at least en route to them. Father Glasberg called Gilbert, Georges, and the rest of their team to see what else they could do to get the remaining children out of danger before the day ended.
“What can we do with the children no one has come for?” Élisabeth’s voice held the anguish that was also visible in her tense, exhausted face.
None of the adults had rested the entire day, and the team that had been in the convent around the clock was worn thin both physically and emotionally.
Gilbert was frustrated with the families who had gone back on their commitment, but he could hardly blame them. If the authorities discovered someone collaborating with the Resistance, they and often their entire family would be jailed. He ran his fingers through his hair and said, “The only thing I can think of is to write a leaflet and distribute it among our networks. There are enough members of OSE and Amitié Chrétienne to take in the remaining children.”
“A leaflet? And what happens if it falls into the hands of the police or the Nazis?” Lili asked pointedly.
Everyone murmured in agreement, but Father Glasberg leaned forward and said, “I think it’s worth a shot. We’re out of time, and we should get it printed up right away. Georges, you write something up and take it to your printer friend. The OSE and Amitié Chrétienne will distribute it immediately. The children who haven’t been picked up yet will have to stay here at the convent overnight. If any of them are still here by noon tomorrow, then we’ll take them to a safe institution.”
“But will it be safe to stay here at the convent till tomorrow?” Maribel asked.
“What other option do we have? We’d be taking a much greater risk if we carted a group of kids around the streets of Lyon at this hour of the night,” the priest replied.
“Is there enough food?” Gilbert asked the social workers.
Élisabeth answered, “Enough for dinner and breakfast.”
“Well, let’s get to it.” Father Glasberg rose to his feet and they all dispersed to their various tasks.
Georges jotted down the urgent message and took it to a trusted printer. Half an hour later, they were already passing out the leaflet among friends, acquaintances, and members of the organizations represented by the commission. Within an hour, the news had spread all around.
One of the OSE members left his leaflet on the kitchen table of his apartment. A gust of wind from the open window carried it out, twirling in the air until it landed on the street three floors below.
A policeman making his nightly rounds saw the fluttering paper and knelt to pick it up. What he read stunned him. He immediately headed for the commissary and showed the leaflet to his superior. Not long afterward, the paper was on the desk of Lucien Marchais, the intendant. Marchais boiled with rage when he realized the entire city knew that the Jewish children from Vénissieux were in hiding. The Resistance had gone too far in undermining the government’s authority, and he would not let this pass. He picked up the phone and alerted the camp director, Cussonac, and the prefect, Angeli. They had to find those children as soon as possible and get them to the Germans. If they failed, the Nazis would have one more reason to do away with the free zone’s independence and turn the entire nation into Nazi slaves. France’s honor was at stake.