Isaac lay awake that night. Curled in the dark beneath a thin, scratchy blanket on a meager cot, his eyes remained wide open while dozens of other children snored softly all around him, arranged in cots of their own in two rows that lined the barracks walls. He kept absolutely still, afraid the slightest noise from his bedding might wake them if he moved, and fought to keep down the lump in his throat. John . . . well, he didn’t look like anything special.