of them, you’ll be contravening international treaties . . .” But before Daniel could finish, the officer hit him in the face.
“Take him to one of the rooms in the back to question him,” he barked.
The noise of the trucks had gotten the attention of a young Resistance worker named Suzanne Heim. When she saw what was happening at the Maison des Roches, she turned and went straight to the church. She was out of breath by the time she entered the presbytery.
“What in the world is going on?” Magda asked, taking in the girl’s nerves at a glance.
“The Gestapo are at the Maison des Roches!” she gasped out.
“Oh, dear God, no,” Magda cried. She ran to the front of the church, grabbed her bike, and pedaled as fast as she could to the boardinghouse.
She arrived, threw down her bike, and marched into the kitchen. Assuming she was a cook, the Germans did not stop her. She busied herself getting some food ready while watching the Gestapo calling the children in one at a time to Daniel’s office to document their identities. It twisted Magda’s heart to see their scared, confused faces, still half-asleep.
Magda served the Germans some food, then made her way to Daniel.
“Daniel, do you remember what happened a few weeks ago? The little Spanish boy who saved the German who was drowning in the river? That might help us here,” she whispered.
“It’s worth a shot,” he said under his breath.
Magda left her apron on a hook and went back out, hopped back on her bike, and headed into town, straight for the Hotel du Lignon, where convalescing German soldiers were housed. She hopped off her bike and marched up the stairs, but the guard at the door stopped her. In German, she explained that she needed to speak with a certain soldier. The guard knew who Magda was and allowed her in.
In the great hall of the hotel, she spotted three soldiers drinking and talking and marched right up to them.
“Have any of you been in Le Chambon-sur-Lignon for more than three weeks?”
Her question took them all by surprise. “Why do you ask?”
“Three weeks ago, a German soldier was on the verge of drowning in the river, and one of the students from the Maison des Roches saved him,” Magda said, praying the officers would remember the incident.
“Yes, I remember. I was there that day,” one of them said.
“This morning the Gestapo went to that boardinghouse and they’re aiming to arrest the school. Could you come help us?”
The Germans looked at one another. They could not understand what she was after. The oldest answered, “We’re not part of the Gestapo, ma’am. I don’t see how we can be of help.”
“I’m asking you as officers and gentlemen to testify on behalf of the children. We can’t let them be taken away.”
Two of the soldiers got up, put on their hats, and followed Magda. It was a surreal image: Magda walking down the main street of town, pushing her bicycle, escorted by two German soldiers. They had not gotten far when they ran into two girls from the church on their bikes.
“Girls, could you lend me your bikes? I need them for something important,” Magda called.
The girls looked up, surprised, but they got off and handed their bikes to the officers. The party of three set off at full speed toward the Maison des Roches.
When they arrived, they were stopped at the door.
“We’d like to speak with the officer in charge,” one of the soldiers said, unintimidated by the Gestapo. When the guard hesitated, the soldier repeated his intention, and the guard finally went inside and alerted his supervisor.
“What’s going on?” the Gestapo officer said as soon as he walked outside. “This is none of your business.”
The soldier answered coolly, “We wanted to make it known that a student from this house saved one of our men from drowning a few days ago. We do not believe they are members of the Resistance.”
“Thank you, but we have information about this house, including the criminal activities of some of its members and the teacher Daniel Trocmé.”
The soldiers shrugged, left the bicycles beside the house, and returned to the hotel. There was nothing more they could do for the children, but at least they had tried.
Magda stared at the Gestapo official and said, “I want to speak with Daniel Trocmé.”
“You can’t right now, but come back this afternoon.” He turned to go.
Magda stood on the stoop for a moment, gathering her