Children of the Stars

by Mario Escobar

  “The prefect needs to turn in refugees to justify his position. He doesn’t care about law or anything. Things are not going well for the Nazis in North Africa, and more people are joining General de Gaulle by the day,” Theis added.

  The caregiver nodded. “We need to get as many refugees as we can out of Le Chambon. They’re not safe here anymore—at least not the foreign Jews.”

  “Last week when Charles Guillon returned from Switzerland with money, he told us that Jews could still escape through that route,” Trocmé said.

  “We should save all we can before the Germans occupy the entire country,” the caregiver said.

  “We’ve got to take them in small groups. It’ll take us months to get even half of them over the Swiss border. We’ll take precautions for new raids, and eventually the police will tire of coming all this way and going home empty-handed,” Trocmé replied.

  The pendulum of Jacob’s emotions swung back into the hazardous zone of fear. Le Chambon no longer felt safe for them. He would miss seeing Anna, but he and Moses had to try to get to South America.

  The three men continued talking in worried tones. “I think Officer Praly is behind all this. The prefect must have sent him to sniff around. They still haven’t opened a permanent commissary, but I’m afraid it won’t be long,” Theis said.

  “We’ll keep a watch out for him,” the caregiver answered.

  “Léopold Praly was in church on Sunday,” Trocmé added.

  “He’s surely reporting everything we say to the prefect. Several members of the congregation have told me the police have questioned and threatened them.”

  “Let’s not allow our worries to get the best of us. It’s better to trust than to fret. Let’s keep the children hidden in homes tonight and then bring them back up the mountain in the morning. We’ll keep a low profile and won’t hold classes until things calm down. None of the children should be out and about in town,” Trocmé told the men.

  The group of children followed the men as they headed back down the mountain. Trocmé let Jacob and Moses catch up to him.

  “Jean-Pierre has asked after you two. When things calm down, we’d like you to come over for a meal. Magda is a wonderful cook.”

  “Thank you, sir . . . pastor,” Jacob said.

  Trocmé chuckled. “You can call me André. A few days ago I spoke with Mr. Perrot. He said they will continue their efforts, but as yet they have been unable to secure either visas or passage for you. Perhaps in a few months things will have calmed down in the country, but until then, it will be impossible to leave France.”

  Jacob was happy to hear their friends in Valence remembered them and were still trying to help them.

  “He also told me he’d received a letter from your parents. They have arrived in Buenos Aires. In a few days, the letter will come for you sent by Mr. Vipond, telling you some details about where they have settled for now.”

  Moses whooped for joy, jumped, and clasped Trocmé in a euphoric embrace. The pastor, typically serious, burst out laughing. He had been raised in a rather strict Protestant family that kept a tight rein on their emotions. But Magda, with Italian blood in her veins, had slowly managed to loosen him up enough to express his feelings.

  Jacob studied the town from their vantage point on the mountain. Scattered houses among trees eventually led to the few streets that made up the entirety of the commune that was Le Chambon-sur-Lignon. He could see the Catholic church, the town hall, the Protestant church, and the train station. The gray of the stone buildings stood out against the dark green of the forests. It was a small spark of heaven in the midst of war’s inferno, a place of refuge for thousands of every tongue and nation.

  Trocmé halted, Moses still in his arms, and held his hand out to Jacob. He was no longer a child, but even so, Jacob squeezed the pastor’s smooth, soft palm. He admired the man. In that loving, pacifist heart, Jacob sensed a kind of courage it was hard to find on earth and that he desperately wanted to have when he was older: the courage to be willing to die for those he loved and to be able to love even his enemies.

  Chapter 23

  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.

  Chapter 24

  Le Chambon-sur-Lignon

  December 24, 1942

  From the beginning of December, the Germans were officially the rulers of the region. Commander Julius Schmähling had set up offices in Le Puy and, though he had not yet sent a detachment of soldiers to Le Chambon-sur-Lignon to take control of the city, the region had been declared a place of respite for some of his soldiers returning from the African and Russian fronts.

  The Germans had taken over the Hotel du Lignon, right next door to the Tante Soly guesthouse, which was full of Jewish refugee children. The soldiers would at times duck under the doorway of the guesthouse to get out of the rain and wave to the children, unaware of who they actually were.

  The residents of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon had not seen a German soldier at any point of the war until the Nazis requisitioned several hotels to lodge their soldiers in convalescence. Soldiers who were well on their way to recovery went out to restaurants or walked along the village streets in groups.

  Over the past few weeks, the refugees had hidden more and more in their places of residence and were biding their time until they could escape to Switzerland after the difficult winter ahead.

  Yet not everything was fear and worry that Christmas. Church members had hewn an enormous fir tree for the sanctuary, the women had decorated the walls and pews, and presents galore were piled at the base of the huge tree. The children were preparing a pageant for Christmas Day, and there was a joy in the air that, in such a difficult year, felt like a breath of hope in the midst of war.

  Jacob walked into the church and marveled at the decorations. Moses’s eyes darted back and forth every which way, taking it all in. The rather cold, austere building had become for a few weeks a veritable toy store. Moses was dressed as a shepherd, and Jacob, one of the members of the chorus, wore a suit and tie. Though they were Jewish, they did not want to miss out on a party that for them symbolized a time to share and show love to others.

  Jacob spied Anna across the sanctuary and was starstruck. She wore a lovely white dress with pink ribbons, and her hair was pulled back be
neath a wreath of flowers. Since her mother was taken, she and Jacob had become even closer. They would often spend the afternoons playing, and they sat together in church on Sundays. Anna was quieter and more melancholy than before, but when she was with Jacob, she was happy.

  “Jacob!” the girl cried, waving at him from the other end of the room. Moses rolled his eyes and grabbed Jacob’s hand. He was not as thrilled with this new arrangement. Since he had started seeing Anna more, Jacob played less with Moses.

  “Hi!” Jacob hoped his greeting did not sound as nervous as he felt. Though they had known each other quite some time now and knew a great deal about each other, he still felt dazed every time the girl approached.

  “Do you like my dress?” she asked, twirling so that the skirt billowed out like a bell around her.

  “You look beautiful,” Jacob answered honestly.

  Anna leaned forward and kissed Jacob’s cheek. Moses grumbled, so she bent down and kissed him too. “Don’t be jealous, little one.”

  “I’m not little,” Moses complained, looking altogether too adorable in his shepherd costume.

  Magda called the chorus children while other teachers helped get the rest ready for the pageant rehearsal. The place was abuzz, everyone busy tending to this or that, and no one noticed a woman who came into the church and set two small suitcases on the floor. She was covered in snow and her shoes were soaked, but her face was kind and sweet.

  Magda reviewed the songs for the evening with the chorus. When she noticed the woman, she recalled that André was supposed to pick up a new assistant sent by their denomination to give them a hand during the winter. Magda went up to her and asked, “Might you be Alice Reynier?”

  “Yes, and you are Mrs. Trocmé?” the woman replied with a smile.