Fast Girls

by Elise Hooper

  It was as if a thunderstorm had passed through. The air cleared and lightened. The athletes looked at each other with tight but relieved faces. A low hum of chatter filled the railcar.

  As the Nazis reconvened on the platform, gathering the crates of stolen goblets, Helen whistled. “Close call. These people don’t fool around.”

  “That was terrifying,” Olive said.

  Helen held out a newspaper. “Someone gave this to me before we landed. It’s a few days old, but there’s a story about how Germany has dropped one of its only Jewish athletes from its team. She’s a high jumper and has set records, but suddenly she’s being told she’s not good enough. Sounds pretty fishy, don’t you think?”

  Betty took the newspaper and started reading about Gretel Bergmann. What exactly were they getting into?

  48.

  July 24, 1936

  Berlin

  THE WEATHER REMAINED UNUSUALLY COLD AND dreary upon the Americans’ arrival in Berlin. The men would be staying at the Olympic Village constructed on the western fringe of Berlin about a half hour by bus to the Olympic Stadium, almost twenty miles from the center of Berlin, but the women’s housing lay inside the Reichssportfeld, adjacent to the Olympic Stadium, in a large building named Friesenhaus. Helen’s first impression of the bedroom she would share with Betty was its unwelcoming temperature. She shivered in the chilly, damp air. “It’s das Freezing Haus, huh?”

  Betty dropped her bag on the concrete floor. “At least it’s clean.”

  “I’m starving. Can we go find something to eat?”

  “Of course, let’s put down our luggage and . . .” At the sound of Betty’s voice trailing off, Helen turned to see what had distracted her. A sheet of white paper appeared to be tucked under the thin pillow at the other end of her bed, and Helen pulled out the typewritten note and began reading:

  Adolf Hitler’s Germany has treated many of her best sons in a manner that’s unworthy of a civilized state.

  The temperature in the already cold room seemed to plummet by thirty more degrees as Helen continued to read another appeal to boycott the Games.

  German authorities will start by being very displeased, but they cannot punish anybody. The worst thing they can do is send home those athletes . . .

  Displeased? After witnessing how Nazi officials had not displayed the slightest hesitation in threatening the athletes over a few missing goblets on the train ride from Hamburg, Helen doubted the German authorities would limit themselves to only being displeased.

  “Is it another boycott letter?” asked Betty.

  Helen handed it to her. Betty’s eyes darted down the note and then she lowered it to her side.

  “Are you going to show it to Dee?”

  “No. I saved the boycott manifesto that met us aboard the Manhattan. I’ll add this one to my growing collection. These resistance groups mean business, but at this point, it’s not really as simple as just backing out, is it? We’ve come all this way. Now we need to show the world that we can win over these Fascists.”

  “Of course I want to beat them, but that’s a tall order. When I went to Amsterdam, nothing went as the coaches planned. People got sick, the facilities were unfamiliar, weird things happened. I wasn’t a favorite at all, but got lucky and won. You can’t take anything for granted here. There’s a lot of pressure.”

  Helen lay down on the bed, massaging her temples. Because of the pain in her legs, she had scarcely run in the last week. What if she didn’t do well when it was time to race? She’d return home a nobody. After all the fanfare Fulton had showered upon her, the idea of going back to William Woods College as a failure was enough to make her feel ill. She’d told everyone she was the fastest woman in the world and she fully intended to live up to that promise. She simply couldn’t go home without a victory.

  “What’s wrong? Are your legs hurting?”

  “No, I mean, yes, they are, but that’s not what’s worrying me at the moment. Do you think I can’t win here?”

  “Of course you can. I didn’t mean to doubt you. All I’m saying is that we need to be careful. I wish I’d been paying more attention to the news.”

  “Do you feel guilty about participating?” Helen asked quietly.

  Betty placed a sweater on her bed. “Yes. I keep telling myself that I shouldn’t, that I’m an athlete whose job is to race, but I can’t help it. I don’t know what the right thing is anymore. And then I wonder if I’m crazy because there’s a good chance that I may not even be selected for the relay.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be selected.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “You and Dee go way back. You’ve already won a silver medal in it. There’s a good group of you who could run it and do well.”

  Betty sat on the edge of her bed. “Do you not want to run it?”

  Helen batted at the air. “At this point, I’m just trying to get my shins better.”

  “So you’re not going to try it?”

  Something brittle in Betty’s tone made Helen roll herself onto her elbow. “I really need to win individual gold. That’s what I’ve been training for. That’s what everyone back in Fulton is gunning for.”

  “But if we’re going to win the relay, we need you. I’ll need you.”

  Helen pursed her lips and chose her words carefully. “Dee and I have both agreed that we will see how my legs are doing and assess the relay after I’ve raced in the individual.” All relay talk brought about a dull ache behind Helen’s eyes. The precision of the transitions, the worrying about the other girls, the pressure not to let anyone down—it was more than she wanted to think about. The expectations seemed stifling.

  At that moment, a woman appeared in their doorway. “Ladies, I welcome you to Berlin and am honored to serve such esteemed guests of the Reich. My name is Ruth Haslie. I’ve been assigned to serve as your translator and guide and am here to help you discover the best experiences and most helpful services that our fine city has to offer.”

  “Hello,” Betty said.

  Helen opened her mouth but was unable to form words. The sparkle of the woman’s cobalt-blue eyes, the pink glow on the apples of her cheeks, and the pale yellow of her hair, the color of January sunshine—Helen was mesmerized. Even the most rudimentary greeting failed her.

  Betty took one look at Helen and shook her head, giggling. “Please forgive our friend Helen. She’s hungry and a bit out of sorts. We were on our way to go find something to eat. Perhaps you could help us with that?”

  “I’d be honored to join you,” Ruth said. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

  Helen coughed, clearing her throat. “Whatever you recommend.”

  “In that case, there is a delicious café nearby. Please, come with me.”

  “Is it a long walk?” asked Betty with an almost imperceptible glance toward Helen’s legs.

  “No, no, it is just this way.” Ruth held out a pale hand and directed them out of the dormitory. When they reached the dormitory’s courtyard, Ruth began a running commentary explaining all the features of the Reichssportfeld. Helen marveled at the well-tended green lawns as Ruth pointed to the tennis courts and the distant hockey field while talking the whole time. “During the Opening Ceremonies, you will be treated to a view of the Hindenburg, the largest commercial passenger-carrying airship in the world. Created by the Zeppelin Company, it is a miraculous feat of German engineering and is named for Paul von Hindenburg, former president of Germany. It has already traveled to Rio de Janeiro and made several trips to North America. Also, you will have the pleasure of viewing the final leg of the torch relay that began in Greece. This is the first time in modern history such a journey has been made, and it symbolizes—”

  By this point, Ruth had led them out a gate onto a street thrumming with activity. Busy cafés filled the sidewalks and Ruth selected one with a cheerful yellow awning. A fair-haired waiter ushered the women to a table.

  Helen took a seat, eyeing the distan
ce between herself and Ruth. She lifted her chair and moved it closer so their forearms were practically touching. “Fräulein, what do you recommend on the menu?” she asked.

  “Eat a large meal now, for you will find that our evening meals are much lighter than the customary American dinner.” Ruth’s brow furrowed. “I do not think I answered your question properly.”

  “Sounds like you’re reading from a manual, How to Impress Your American Athletes,” Helen said.

  “I enjoy the schnitzel.” The German woman’s smile revealed perfectly straight white teeth and her eyes darted around the café before she leaned in toward Helen and spoke quietly. “We were trained on our duties and I received a great deal of written instruction. Am I doing anything wrong?”

  “Not at all,” Helen said, holding her gaze. “You’re perfect. I can’t get over how much I’ve learned about these Olympic Games since meeting you.”

  Ruth nodded shyly before swiveling to the waiter at her side.

  “I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Helen said.

  Ruth ordered in German for the three of them. Though Helen had always believed German to be an unattractive language, it sounded much better when spoken by Ruth.

  “So how did you end up with this job?” Helen asked. “Are you from Berlin?”

  “My father works as an administrator for the city. He’s an engineer by training. I’ve been studying English for many years and passed an exam that allowed me to apply for this job.”

  “I’m impressed. You speak English beautifully,” Helen marveled. “How lucky we are to have you as our guide.”

  Their waiter reappeared to place three tall glasses in the center of the table.

  “Ah, our beers. You will enjoy these. Prost! I hope your upcoming races are a success, but more importantly, may I be so bold as to wish for the blossoming of new friendships?” Ruth smiled, lifting her glass in a toast.

  “Meeting you offers promising possibilities, that’s for sure.” Helen lifted the beer closest to her and took a long swig, savoring the cool nip and fizz of the lager. Over the rim of her glass, she and Ruth locked gazes, and it felt as if everything and everyone else dropped away and they were sitting at the café by themselves.

  Betty cleared her throat. “So, Ruth, where do you live?”

  Ruth turned to Betty, and as she pushed one of her blond braids over her shoulder, Helen felt a sudden desire to reach out and gently wrap one of the silky long plaits around her wrist.

  “Charlottenburg, not far from the zoo. Are you familiar with Berlin?” Ruth asked.

  “No, not at all,” Betty admitted.

  “Over the next few days, when your presence isn’t required at training, I can take you on excursions and show you the best of Berlin. Of course, I mean both of you.” She glanced back at Helen shyly. “Do you have any special requests?”

  Helen blinked. As long as they spent time together, she didn’t care where Ruth took them. “I just need to be careful not to do a lot of walking.”

  On the final evening aboard the Manhattan, Helen had finally gone to Dee to tell her about her shin splints. Dee had surprised her by taking the news without making a fuss. “Go to the infirmary each day for massage, use ice, and don’t let any of the press catch wind of this. Keep it a secret from everyone. We don’t want anyone detecting any weakness in you,” Dee had said.

  At the reference to her leg pain, Helen felt Betty’s gaze land on her. She knew she was supposed to stay quiet on the subject, but what was wrong with saying something to Ruth? After all, she was their guide. Helen looked from side to side to see if any of the surrounding café patrons appeared to be paying them any attention, but everyone seemed consumed in their drinks and conversation. “I’m having some trouble with shin splints,” she confessed.

  Ruth’s expression grew serious. “I see. Have you booked appointments for every morning at your team’s infirmary? I can save you the trip and do it for you.”

  “Helen—” Betty’s voice held a note of caution, but Helen cut Betty off by raising her hand slightly.

  “That would be wonderful, Ruth, thank you.” And she lowered her hand onto the back of Ruth’s chair.

  Ruth didn’t miss a beat. “I will do everything to help you perform at your finest.”

  For the rest of the meal, Helen set out to charm Ruth with stories of shenanigans aboard the Manhattan. Betty remained quiet.

  It wasn’t until the two of them were back in their room alone that Betty said, “I know you were quite taken with Ruth, but Dee told you not to mention your shin splints to anyone. Aside from Stella Walsh, the Germans are our biggest competitors.”

  “What? Do you think she’s a spy or something?”

  “I don’t know what to think, but don’t tell me that everything seems normal here.”

  “Ruth’s fine,” Helen snapped, turning away from Betty to busy herself with setting out her practice clothes for the following morning. She couldn’t believe her good luck in discovering Ruth, but was it too good to be true?

  49.

  July 26, 1936

  Berlin

  LOUISE AND HER TEAMMATES SAT AT A SMALL TABLE amid the whirling and twirling masses filling the dance floor of the Resi, one of Berlin’s most talked-about nightclubs.

  Annette giggled. “Send one to Jesse.”

  “He probably gets the most messages of anyone in here. I’ll send it to Mack instead.” A mischievous grin spread across Tidye’s features as she grabbed a pencil and bent over the small piece of paper before sealing it into the capsule, dropping it into the pneumatic tube, and yanking the handle. The women all watched as the paper disappeared, whisked off through the hidden network of tubes running throughout the grand dance hall. The place’s glitz and excitement were beyond any the women had ever seen. The dance floor alone was rumored to hold one thousand dancers. And the ingenious method for sending messages between tables? Unbelievable. The women could have spent hours sending messages around the room to the numbered tables.

  “I heard that the switchboard operators censor them for anything indecent,” Louise said. “What did you write?”

  “My little secret.” Tidye tilted her head flirtatiously. “But I may have signed your name, not mine.”

  Louise laughed and took a sip of her champagne, twisting in her seat to face the water-jet ballet, where plumes of water shooting higher and higher into the air synchronized to the beat of automated orchestral music. Beside her, Betty bobbed her chin along to the tune while occasionally glancing at Helen and their guide, Ruth. The two women sat in the corner, deep in conversation, their heads so close that Helen’s curls spilled over Ruth’s smooth fair hair.

  Betty, Louise, Tidye, and Annette turned their attention to the dance floor as Harriet stumbled toward them. Upon her arrival, the phone at the center of the table rang and Harriet grabbed it. “Hallo?” she trilled into the receiver. She squinted, trying to make sense of whatever the speaker at the other end of the line was saying. “Ja, ja,” she answered before hanging up.

  “Another invitation to dance?” asked Annette.

  “Yes. This time from table thirty-two,” Harriet answered, heading back toward the dance floor.

  “Be careful,” Betty said, plucking a cigarette from her pocketbook.

  Harriet turned to look back at Betty over her shoulder. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud. I’m fine. Wouldn’t kill you to have a little fun too.”

  “Just don’t forget what we’re here for.”

  Harriet pouted. “Like I could forget.”

  No one else filled her dance card the way Harriet did. One German man after another lined up to keep her occupied, most of them in military uniform.

  Louise glanced away from Harriet’s retreating figure as a note arrived in their table’s pneumatic mail tube and the women shrieked in delight. Tidye whisked it from the tube’s opening. “I think this will be for you,” she said, handing it to Louise.

  Louise felt her face heat as she opened t
he folded note.

  I’ll walk you to your dorm whenever you’re ready. —M

  She looked up at them. “I think it’s time for me to head back.”

  The women all hooted. “With Mack?”

  Louise smiled and gathered her bag and evening wrap. Across the ballroom, she saw Mack rise and say goodbye to his friends.

  “We’ll be along soon,” Tidye said. “But don’t worry, we’ll stroll back slowly and give you two plenty of time to talk.” With her emphasis on talk, all the women burst into laughter and Louise looked down, hiding her delight.

  Mack was waiting for her outside the dance hall’s entrance, his usual wide grin stretching across his handsome face. He offered his arm to her and the two drifted along the boulevard. As soon as Louise had found her sea legs aboard the Manhattan, they had made taking a stroll about the deck each evening a habit. Since landing in Germany, they continued to meet for meals and walks together.

  Louise pointed at the window of an art gallery, and from outside, they stopped to admire the paintings.

  A German woman approached Louise holding a small book. “Good evening, Fräulein Stokes, may I please have your autograph?”

  Louise signed her name and exchanged an auf wiedersehen with the Berliner.

  “Did you ever imagine it would be like this here?” she asked Mack as they continued along the street.

  “It’s confusing, isn’t it? We were told how much Hitler hated us, but no one said how much Berliners would love us. You should see it; whenever we’re out on the streets with Jesse, he’s swarmed by German girls, screaming his name and pushing their way toward him.” He shook his head. “Did I tell you that a couple invited Dave and Jesse to have coffee in their apartment yesterday?”

  “Really?”

  “And they went,” Mack added. “Said the people couldn’t have been friendlier.”