After the Roundup

Joseph Weismann, Richard Kutner

Description

On the nights of July 16 and 17, 1942, French police rounded up eleven-year-old Joseph Weismann, his family, and 13,000 other Jews. After being held for five days in appalling conditions in the Vélodrome d'Hiver stadium, Joseph and his family were transported by cattle car to the Beaune-la-Rolande internment camp and brutally separated: all the adults and most of the children were transported on to Auschwitz and certain death, but 1,000 children were left behind to wait for a later train. The French guards told the children left behind that they would soon be reunited with their parents, but Joseph and his new friend, Joe Kogan, chose to risk everything in a daring escape attempt. After eluding the guards and crawling under razor-sharp barbed wire, Joseph found freedom. But how would he survive the rest of the war in Nazi-occupied France and build a life for himself? His problems had just begun.

Until he was 80, Joseph Weismann kept his story to himself, giving only the slightest hints of it to his wife and three children. Simone Veil, lawyer, politician, President of the European Parliament, and member of the Constitutional Council of France—herself a survivor of Auschwitz—urged him to tell his story. In the original French version of this book and in Roselyne Bosch's 2010 film La Rafle, Joseph shares his compelling and terrifying story of the Roundup of the Vél' d'Hiv and his escape. Now, for the first time in English, Joseph tells the rest of his dramatic story in After the Roundup.

Translator's Foreword
1. Fall 1940
2. The Star
3. July 16, 1942
4. Beaune-la-Rolande
5. Escape
6. Parisian Wanderings
7. Three "Misérables"
8. The Americans
9. The Castle of Méhoncourt
10. Becoming French
11. Return to the Past
Epilogue: Bearing Witness

Sujets

• Personal Memoirs
• 20th Century
• Modern
• Holocaust
• HISTORY
• Histoire
• The Holocaust
• List of Holocaust survivors
• Modern history
• Memoir
• History of Europe
• French Revolution
• Obermodern-Zutzendorf
• Holocauste
• France
• Europe

Informations

• Publié par: Indiana University Press
• Date de parution: 24 avril 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9780253027047
• Langue: English

Extrait

After
the
Roundup
After
the
Roundup
JOSEPH WEISMANN
Translated by
RICHARD KUTNER
This book is a publication of
Indiana University Press
Office of Scholarly Publishing
Herman B Wells Library 350
1320 East 10th Street
Bloomington, Indiana 47405 USA
iupress.indiana.edu
Original publication in French
2011 Michel Lafon
English translation 2017 by Indiana University Press
No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The Association of American University Presses Resolution on Permissions constitutes the only exception to this prohibition.
The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences-Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1992.
Manufactured in the United States of America
Cataloging information is available from the Library of Congress.
ISBN 978-0-253-02680-4 (cloth)
ISBN 978-0-253-02691-0 (paperback)
ISBN 978-0-253-02704-7 (ebook)
1 2 3 4 5 22 21 20 19 18 17
To Joe Kogan, my fellow escapee, who helped me to achieve the impossible
Contents
Translator s Foreword
1. Fall 1940
2. The Star
3. July 16, 1942
4. Beaune-la-Rolande
5. Escape
6. Parisian Wanderings
7. Three Mis rables
8. The Americans
9. The Castle of M honcourt
10. Becoming French
11. Return to the Past
Epilogue: Bearing Witness
Translator s Foreword
During the night of July 16-17, 1942, twelve thousand eight hundred forty-four Jewish men, women, and children were rounded up by the French police and taken to the V lodrome d Hiver, a cycling stadium in Paris, where they were kept for days in unspeakable conditions before being transported in cattle cars to internment camps throughout France. Joseph Weismann, barely eleven years old, was one of them.
While my son was interviewing Joseph for an AP French class he was teaching on the Holocaust, Joseph asked him if he knew anyone who could translate his memoir, Apr s la rafle , into English. Joseph and I spoke on the phone, and I set to work. It was a moving and inspiring four months. My biggest challenges were keeping the exuberant, authentic voice of an eleven-year-old boy, adapting the 1940s Parisian street slang, and finding names for things (such as architectural features or pieces of furniture) that don t have an equivalent in English. I hope I have been successful.
The details of young Joseph s escape from the camp of Beaune-la-Rolande, after his parents and sisters were torn away from him and sent to Auschwitz, are riveting. But how would he get through the war and reconstruct his life afterward? It wasn t going to be easy or pleasant, and this memoir, written by a man of eighty through the eyes of a boy, is a testament to its author s courage, clearheadedness, positive spirit, and out-of-the-box thinking. After visiting Israel twice, the second time for two years, he decided that France, the country that had cruelly taken everything away from him and presented him with obstacles at every turn, was the only place he could make his home. How could this be?
Joseph joined the French army, married, and ran a highly successful furniture company. He had three children whom he showered with love. But until he was eighty, he kept his story bottled up inside him, giving his wife and children only the slightest hints of what had happened. It was Simone Veil, lawyer, politician, president of the European Parliament, and member of the Constitutional Council of France-herself a survivor of Auschwitz-who urged Joseph to bear witness to his experiences. That is how the original French version of this book came to be.
Roselyne Bosch s 2010 film, La Rafle , vividly evokes the Roundup of the V l d Hiv, with Joseph as the central character. It ends with his escape. This poignant memoir, written a year later, tells the rest of the dramatic story.
It was Joseph s fervent desire to write After the Roundup in the hope that history wouldn t repeat itself. Let s hope that his wish is fulfilled.
Richard Kutner
After
the
Roundup
1 Fall 1940
Time to go. I slip on my jacket, plant a kiss on Mama s cheek-just a quick peck-and zoom down the stairs full speed ahead. I ve made it about two flights when I hear a shout of exasperation behind me: Joseph! Every morning. . . . The door!
But I forget Papa s reproach right away. I cross the dark, narrow courtyard, fly across the tile floor of the front building, and push open the heavy wooden door. I m outside at last, a smile on my face. My hair, light as a feather, flies in the wind, and I hop like a bird from one corner to the next. An early morning shower has left the paving stones shiny and slippery. The shopkeepers are raising their heavy metal gates, even if they have nothing to sell, and an old man in filthy blue work clothes is pushing his cart to the top of the hill. Montmartre is my garden. All the way to the left, Rue Lepic snakes its way uphill. I ll arrive at my destination right after the bend in the road. On my way to school, I meet up with my friend Gu chou.
Hey! I need to talk business with you . . . something I thought of to earn a little money!
He stares at me with wide-open eyes but not much enthusiasm. He doesn t even seem skeptical, no less worried-I ve barely aroused his curiosity.
What kind of business? And what do you need money for, anyway?
To buy candy, of course. Have you eaten a lot of candy lately? It s been ages since I tasted a berlingot !
That s for sure, but in these times. . . . And how do you think you re going to go about this?
We arrive at school. I schedule a meeting at playtime to put the finishing touches on my plan.
My schoolbag has been feeling heavier and heavier. Now, in the fall of 1940, it doesn t contain any more books or notebooks than it did last year. It s my back that s having trouble bearing the load. I m nine and a half and as fragile as a sparrow. For more than a year now I haven t had enough to eat every day. The past few weeks have been even worse, with the rationing tickets. I m in the J2 category, kids ages six to twelve. In theory, we have the right to seven ounces of bread a day, a little sugar (or rather saccharine), one or two potatoes, and a half a steak per week. I say in theory because even with your ticket in your hand, it isn t easy to exchange it for food. The shopkeepers keep their provisions for themselves or sell them on the black market. My family doesn t have enough money to buy things that way. And I think that even if we did, we wouldn t. It s a matter of principle. My family respects the rules, whatever they may be. We obey the laws of the country that has welcomed us-I d even say that we submit to them completely. We want to walk with our heads held high and not be ashamed of anything. We don t fool around-except for me.
So listen, Gu chou. We re going to earn some money. I m not asking you to steal, don t worry. We re going to earn it by starting a small business. What do you say?
He makes a face, thrusting his hands in his pockets. I say that we don t have much to sell.
There must be something to sell in your house. Something pretty that people would like but that your parents don t really want to keep, no?
I can t think of anything.
Wait a minute, Gu chou! I ve got an idea! You must have some postcards. . . .
Postcards? Uh . . . yeah, I have some, but there s stuff written on the back.
Of course there s stuff written on the back, but who cares? What counts is the picture. Do you have some nice ones? Landscapes, mountains, rivers, churches?
Uh, yeah, sure, but they re all in the drawer of the kitchen hutch. I don t really think I can have them.
Don t ask!
Don t ask? And what if I get caught?
OK, ask. Will you be able to convince your mother to give them to you?
It depends. To do what?
He doesn t see what I m getting at, this pal of mine. Suddenly I wonder why I chose him of all people to go into business with me. The little voice in my head stops me right away: Don t wonder why, Joseph. He s your best friend, that s all .
Listen, Gu chou, I explain, you know, lots of people collect postcards. They remind them of somewhere they went on vacation before the war. Some people tape them to their bedroom walls. They think they re traveling when they fall asleep at night. . . .
Finally, my friend s face lights up.
And some people want their buddies to think that they have rich friends who wrote to them!
Right, Gu chou. You finally understood. For one reason or another, everyone likes postcards. So tonight you go home, you gather what you have, I do the same, and Thursday we go into business!
We choose the central island in the Boulevard Clichy, between the Blanche and Anvers subway stations. The Place Clichy is too close to my house, and Sacr -Coeur is even worse. Here, at least, we won t be spotted. Because, of course, we know we re doing something illegal, especially Gu chou. He leans against a tree as if he wants to disappear inside its trunk.
No, Joe, I can t. You start. I swear, I can t do it.
Gu chou, you re just chicken.
I take a deep breath and address the passersby. Excuse me, sir, wouldn t you like a postcard? Look at this one-it s Givors. Givors is beautiful! Madam, a nice postcard? No? Have a nice day, madam. Sir, have you ever been to Givors?
The black-and-white photo shows a fa