towards the narrow entrances to the stands. The officials seemed concerned, overwrought, chivvying people along as if there was no time to lose. A military band marched impressively into the enclosure, took up position and launched into a medley of cheerful tunes with a bouncing beat. The crowd greatly appreciated this. I sat down on the grass again, watching the band and enjoying the music.
I saw Joe walking along the river bank, looking from side to side. I waved, beckoning him anxiously towards me. We were running out of time. After a moment he saw me and came straight over. He squatted down beside me.
‘Look, JL, we have to change our plans,’ he said directly, raising his voice over the noise of the music.
‘Something’s come up. We’re going to leave Berlin tonight.’
‘You want to go home already?’
‘I want to get out of Germany. Whatever it takes.’
‘Joe, we’re here to compete. Where the devil have you been? Have you forgotten the race? This is the most important afternoon of our lives!’
‘Yes, and I feel the same as you. But there are other things we have to worry about.’
‘Not now, not just before the race!’
‘An hour from now the race will be over as far as we’re concerned. There’s no point hanging around in Berlin afterwards.’
‘But it’s in the agreement we signed. We have to stay on for the closing ceremony’
‘It’s not safe for us to be here.’
‘What could possibly go wrong?’ I said, indicating the huge and good-natured crowds, the warm afternoon and the calm river, the oompah band, the squads of officials and adjudicators. I glanced at my watch. ‘We should be warming up.’
Joe turned away from me, his attention grabbed by something that was going on. I looked over to where he was staring. Many of the people in the grandstands were getting up out of their seats, stretching up on their toes to see better. The band continued to play, but we were close enough to the musicians to notice that several of them were rolling their eyes while they blew into their trumpets and tubas, trying to see what was happening. I stood up and after another moment so too did Joe. A group of men in German military uniforms was coming along the pathway that led down to the enclosure between the two main stands. They weren’t marching but were walking briskly, staring straight ahead. The way for them had already been cleared, with lines of SS men standing to attention on each side.
Many of the people in the crowd raised their right arms at an angle and a huge racket of shouting, cheering and some screaming was going on. Ripples of excitement were fanning through the crowds in both grandstands. The mood was electric.
‘My God!’Joe shouted over the row. ‘It’s him!’
I stared in amazement. In the centre of the group of men, the instantly recognizable figure of Chancellor Hitler was striding along, acknowledging the excited crowd by holding his right hand slightly aloft, the palm turned upwards. He looked to neither right nor left. He was no taller than any of the other men, dressed in a nondescript pale-green military jacket and a peaked cap, yet somehow his presence had instantly become the focus of interest of everyone.
I was astonished by the effect of the man’s appearance on me. Simply by being there, by arriving, by striding into the arena where the regatta was taking place, he commanded our immediate attention. Like everyone else, Joe and I were craning our necks to keep him in sight. The group of men reached the base of the raised podium. On that hot day in early August 1936, Joe and I recognized none of them apart from Hitler; even though we understood from the way they behaved that they were hugely important men. Without ceremony they climbed the steps to take up their positions on the viewing platform. A few years later, those men on the podium with Hitler would be amongst the most widely known, and feared, men in the world.
The Nazi leaders disappeared
I saw Joe walking along the river bank, looking from side to side. I waved, beckoning him anxiously towards me. We were running out of time. After a moment he saw me and came straight over. He squatted down beside me.
‘Look, JL, we have to change our plans,’ he said directly, raising his voice over the noise of the music.
‘Something’s come up. We’re going to leave Berlin tonight.’
‘You want to go home already?’
‘I want to get out of Germany. Whatever it takes.’
‘Joe, we’re here to compete. Where the devil have you been? Have you forgotten the race? This is the most important afternoon of our lives!’
‘Yes, and I feel the same as you. But there are other things we have to worry about.’
‘Not now, not just before the race!’
‘An hour from now the race will be over as far as we’re concerned. There’s no point hanging around in Berlin afterwards.’
‘But it’s in the agreement we signed. We have to stay on for the closing ceremony’
‘It’s not safe for us to be here.’
‘What could possibly go wrong?’ I said, indicating the huge and good-natured crowds, the warm afternoon and the calm river, the oompah band, the squads of officials and adjudicators. I glanced at my watch. ‘We should be warming up.’
Joe turned away from me, his attention grabbed by something that was going on. I looked over to where he was staring. Many of the people in the grandstands were getting up out of their seats, stretching up on their toes to see better. The band continued to play, but we were close enough to the musicians to notice that several of them were rolling their eyes while they blew into their trumpets and tubas, trying to see what was happening. I stood up and after another moment so too did Joe. A group of men in German military uniforms was coming along the pathway that led down to the enclosure between the two main stands. They weren’t marching but were walking briskly, staring straight ahead. The way for them had already been cleared, with lines of SS men standing to attention on each side.
Many of the people in the crowd raised their right arms at an angle and a huge racket of shouting, cheering and some screaming was going on. Ripples of excitement were fanning through the crowds in both grandstands. The mood was electric.
‘My God!’Joe shouted over the row. ‘It’s him!’
I stared in amazement. In the centre of the group of men, the instantly recognizable figure of Chancellor Hitler was striding along, acknowledging the excited crowd by holding his right hand slightly aloft, the palm turned upwards. He looked to neither right nor left. He was no taller than any of the other men, dressed in a nondescript pale-green military jacket and a peaked cap, yet somehow his presence had instantly become the focus of interest of everyone.
I was astonished by the effect of the man’s appearance on me. Simply by being there, by arriving, by striding into the arena where the regatta was taking place, he commanded our immediate attention. Like everyone else, Joe and I were craning our necks to keep him in sight. The group of men reached the base of the raised podium. On that hot day in early August 1936, Joe and I recognized none of them apart from Hitler; even though we understood from the way they behaved that they were hugely important men. Without ceremony they climbed the steps to take up their positions on the viewing platform. A few years later, those men on the podium with Hitler would be amongst the most widely known, and feared, men in the world.
The Nazi leaders disappeared
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