they ran for the hallways that led to the different seating tiers. They were on a mission: find Joseph’s family and try to learn what had become of Aunt Judith so they could escape the velodrome before it was too late.
Chapter 3
Paris
July 16, 1942
The day would not end. The velodrome’s detainees were hungry, thirsty, and tired. Babies and children wailed about the heat. The nurses tried to hand out the little bit of milk they had to mothers who screamed and fought over it. The suffocating air compelled most men to strip to their undershirts, and women fanned their children with hats, paper, or anything they could find. Many people wandered in search of lost loved ones, shouting out names with aggrieved monotony. Elsewhere, families huddled together nibbling their last remnants of food.
Jacob, Moses, and Joseph walked without stopping. Four hours later, they had covered the hospital tent, every stairway, and the highest tiers of the building. The French police remained stationed at the doors but did not venture into the stands or racetrack. Men bearing stretchers had removed the bodies of the suicide victims, though the bloodstains continued to dry on the wooden circuit.
“We’ve looked everywhere . . . I don’t think your family’s here, Joseph,” Jacob said. His friend’s face grew cloudy. A few silent tears fell before Joseph wiped them with his dirty hand and dropped his head.
Jacob knew exactly how he felt. His parents’ departure over a year ago had left a void within him. Loneliness and insecurity came out in night sweats when his own shouting for his mother awakened him.
“Cheer up. That might be good news.” Jacob rested his hands on Joseph’s shoulders.
“But if they aren’t here”—Joseph sniffed—“where can they be?”
An older man dressed impeccably in a double-breasted gray suit stood up and approached the boys. He had overheard their interaction. He took off his glasses and knelt down. “They’ve taken some people to the Drancy camp, just a few miles northeast of Paris. Your family might be there. You should tell one of the Red Cross volunteers or one of the workers.”
Joseph fought to hold back his tears. The lump in his throat made it hard to breathe. “Thank you, sir,” he managed.
The three boys walked away from the man, and Jacob turned to his friend. “Don’t even think about it. Your family might be at that other place, but you won’t be able to help anybody if they take you to where your family is.”
“What do you mean? What can we do to help?”
“Escape.” Jacob let the word out in a whisper.
The idea had not even occurred to Joseph. In the last few hours, they had covered nearly every inch of the velodrome. The exits were guarded, and aside from the high glass roof, they’d found no way to get out. Trying to escape would be lunacy.
“But how can we get out of here?” Moses asked.
“There’s got to be a way to do it without raising suspicion,” Jacob said firmly, convincing himself as he spoke.
Joseph shrugged. “Well, even if so, then where would we go?”
“We’ll look for Aunt Judith. She’ll know what to do,” Jacob said. He knew it was a simple answer, but he was the kind of person who faced problems one at a time.
The boy raised his eyes and beheld the stadium in a new light. He had to find its weak point—and fast.
“Jacob, I’m thirsty,” Moses complained for the hundredth time. His face was pale and his lips dry and pasty. They looked toward the Red Cross tents.
“We should get some food and water,” Jacob said, heading down the ramp.
“There are sinks in the bathroom,” Joseph said, following.
“Haven’t you noticed the bathrooms in this place? They stink like nothing else! I wouldn’t go in there for all the gold in the world!” Moses declared.
Jacob pointed to the tents. “They’ll give us water.”
When the boys reached the lowest level of the velodrome, French policemen stood at the center of the track. They surrounded the Red Cross volunteers, ensuring that no one could steal the meager amount of food that remained in the stadium.
“Where do you think you are going?” one of the officers asked when he saw the three children approach.
“We haven’t had anything to eat or drink all day,” Jacob said, adopting his most pitiful face.
The gendarme was very young. His uniform was so new and bright it must have come from the cleaner’s that day. At first he frowned—but when he saw that none of his fellow