Berlin Games (42 page)

Stephens was in a unique position to see what happened next. While she accelerated forward, waiting for Elizabeth Robinson to thrust the baton into her right hand, she saw Doerffeldt pull the baton across her chest to place it into her left hand. Such a move was completely unnecessary, as Doerffeldt–who was used to running in one of the middle legs–had no one to pass the baton to. The move was disastrous for the German team, as Doerffeldt did the unthinkable–she dropped the baton. Her mouth wide open in shock, Doerffeldt held up her arms in the position of someone who was surrendering. Her strides grew shorter, and her hands clutched the top of her head. As she turned round to look, the other runners, led by Helen Stephens, stormed past her. For a moment, Doerffeldt looked like a little girl stuck in the middle of a busy street, cars and lorries mercilessly shooting past her. The groan from the crowd must have been heard 10 miles away in the centre of Berlin. Stephens crossed the line with the stopwatch registering 46.9, which cruelly beat the world record set by the Germans twenty-fours before. The British came second on 47.6, just beating the Canadians, who finished on 47.8. Hitler sat back down, banging his right thigh with his fist. Goebbels sat too, and reached for his binoculars to study Doerffeldt, who was in tears, being consoled by her teammates. ‘The girls are gutted,' Goebbels wrote in his diary. ‘The Fuehrer consoles them.' Indeed he did. Hitler saw the women later, and sent a car stuffed with flowers round to the Friesian House. ‘I don't think it helped much,' said Stephens.

Even if Doerffeldt had not dropped the baton, however, it is possible that Stephens might have beaten her. ‘Even if we were twelve
years behind,' said Annette Rogers, ‘Helen would have closed that gap.' She was probably right. Stephens was capable of running the distance in 11½ seconds. The best German runner, Krauss, was at least half a second slower, as was Dollinger. Emmy Albus was seven-tenths of a second slower than Stephens. It has to be assumed that Ilse Doerffeldt was slower than the others, as she had not even been entered for the 100 metres. It is likely that she was a full second slower than Stephens, the equivalent of just under 10 metres, which was twice the gap that Stephens had to close up when she received the baton. Even allowing for Doerffeldt's head start, Stephens would have passed her a few metres before the finishing line. Had the Germans been in the same position with Krauss as the anchor, then they would have won, but only just. If either Albus or Dollinger had anchored, then the result would have been too close to anticipate. But Doerffeldt was the slowest of the German girls, and she lacked the experience to take on Stephens, which was probably why she was nervous enough to unnecessarily change her baton-carrying hand. It looked as if the American tactic of changing positions had paid off.

 

While Annette Rogers stood on the podium receiving her gold medal, the stadium announced her third and final call for the high jump. ‘I jumped off the podium and ran off to compete,' she recalled. ‘The crowd was cheering me on because they knew what was happening. It was my third try at one metre fifty-five, but my legs gave out because I was tired.' At least Rogers had more chance that Gretel Bergmann, who was sitting at home, waiting for a letter from her father's rich friend in the United States, who had promised to sponsor her. It came a few weeks later, although the news was not good. The friend moaned at how bad the economic situation was in the United States, and said that Bergmann would have trouble finding a job. He advised her to change her plans. ‘Maybe the situation in Germany will soon change for the better,' he wrote. When Bergmann's father read this, he lost his temper and swore copiously. ‘We could only surmise that I now seemed a much less valued commodity,' Bergmann wrote. ‘No longer could this sterling character brag of having helped an Olympic track star get to the United States.' Bergmann's father dispatched a letter to his friend, reminding him
that a ‘promise was a promise'. All Bergmann could do, once more, was to sit and wait.

The high jump was a gruelling event. ‘We jumped for three hours,' Dorothy Odam recalled. ‘They brought the German girls water and things like that, but they wouldn't let anybody bring something through for the rest of us. We thought, ‘Can we have some,' but we weren't allowed. It was very unfair.' What made matters even more unfair was that one of the German girls was in fact a man. He was none other than the seventeen-year-old Dora, who had shared a room with Bergmann at Ettlingen the previous autumn, the Dora who never shared the shower room with the other girls, the Dora who always took a bath behind a locked door. Dora–whose full name was Dora Ratjen–was displaying some of the same eccentricities at the Friesian House, where she shared a bedroom with her fellow German high jumper, Elfriede Kaun. ‘I thought something was a bit funny,' Kaun recalled, ‘because she had a deep voice and she snored in her sleep.' But that was not all. ‘She also had to shave,' said Kaun, ‘not just her legs and under her arms, but also her face. In the shower, you could hear the voice of Dora, and everybody said, “What's a man doing in here?” '

It was not an unreasonable question. According to Ratjen–whose real Christian name was Hermann, thus giving rise to the inevitable nickname of ‘Hermann the German'–he had been forced into competing as a woman by Hitler Youth leaders. Perhaps the Nazis were using Ratjen as a means of defeating Gretel Bergmann, if they were unable to deselect her. The rationale was, presumably, that it was far better to have a transvestite winning for Germany than a Jew. Ratjen may not have been completely male, however, and may have had ambiguous genitalia. Nevertheless, by all counts Ratjen was a lot more male than female, and as such should have been competing against David Albritton and Cornelius Johnson a week earlier.

Hermann would not have done terribly well against his fellow men. In the finals of the women's high jump, he failed to jump over 1.60 metres, which was 10 centimetres shorter than the worst-performing men in the elimination trials. Nevertheless, Ratjen's performance earned him fourth place. The contest for the top three places was decided by a jump-off between Odam, Kaun and Ibolya Csák of Hungary, all of whom had cleared 1.60, but had failed at 1.62. They
were then given a fourth attempt at the height. Whoever cleared it would be judged the winner. Both Kaun and Odam failed, but Csák made it–just–and took the gold. The bar was then lowered to 1.60 for Kaun and Odam. The British girl cleared it, but Kaun, her legs worn out after three hours of jumping, was now unable to manage it. Odam won silver, and Kaun took bronze, although under the present high jump rules, Odam would have won gold, as she had been the first to clear 1.60. When she got back to the Friesian House, she found her chaperones' reaction somewhat underwhelming. ‘We were having a meal,' she recalled, ‘and when it came up that I had won a medal, one of the chaperones said, “Don't forget that the girls won a silver medal in the relay.” I was made to feel as if I was nobody. I was just a little sixteen-year-old.' The one woman who felt even more of a nobody was Gretel Bergmann. She could jump 1.60 with ease.

 

That Sunday was a good day for the British. As well as the high jump and the women's relay, there was one other event in which they hoped to do well–the 4 x 400 men's relay. As the British Olympic Association's official report said, ‘it was generally considered that Great Britain's chances of winning the 1600 metres relay event were extremely high'. The BOA was right, but then, as was so often the way, America's chances were also good. The final of the individual 400 metres could not have had a closer finish, with only three-tenths of a second between Archie Williams of the United States in first and Bill Roberts in fourth. Godfrey Brown was just two-tenths of a second behind Williams, with James Lu Valle, who took bronze, a mere one tenth of a second behind Brown. ‘A finer final it is impossible to imagine,' wrote Harold Abrahams. Despite the lack of a medal, Roberts could at least congratulate himself that he had beaten his personal best by two seconds.

Although the race was close, Roberts and Brown earned some censure from the newspapers for not starting more quickly. W. Capel Kirby, in the
Sporting Chronicle
, observed that ‘our men generally have taken too much for granted and overlooked the fact that in present-day Olympic competition it is courting trouble not to go out hard all the way from “go” '. Kirby indicated that the Americans were great believers in getting to the front as soon as they could, and then staying
there. This was certainly correct. Archie Williams recalled the aggressive advice his coach had given him.

The final took place at 3.45 that afternoon. With the women having just won silver in the 4 x 100, the pressure was on to equal or better their performance. Britain was drawn on the outside lane, with Canada in lane five. In lane four was the United States, with Hungary in lane three, Germany in lane two and Sweden in lane one. Although all six teams were strong, the stadium knew that the race would be between the United States and Great Britain, who had both won their heats. The Americans had recorded a time of 3:13 and the British 3:14.4. In the third heat, Germany and Canada had both finished on 3:15.0, although the Germans were judged to have come first. The running order for the British team was Freddy Woolf, Godfrey Rampling and Bill Roberts, with Godfrey Brown as the anchor. Woolf would have a difficult job at the start. Not only was he the slowest runner, but being drawn in lane six meant that he would have no idea where his opponents were. What made matters worse for Woolf was that he was recovering from some dental treatment, yet he was deemed fit enough to race.

Woolf made a good start, but Limon of Canada was soon right behind him. After 200 yards, the prospects for the British team were already starting to look bleak, as Woolf was labouring. On the final bend, Limon passed him, and all Woolf could do in response was to turn his head to watch him overtake. Woolf slowed down even more as he approached the baton change, and by the time he handed it over to Rampling, the British were in fourth, some 1½ seconds–or 10 metres–behind the Canadians, with the United States and Germany in second and third. Edwards of Canada powered away, but Young of the United States was soon chipping away at his lead. At this stage, it looked as if the North Americans were going to take both gold and silver.

Just as Young was going to pass Edwards, a tall and lanky figure suddenly appeared from behind them, running at a rate that was demonstrably quicker than that of the American or the Canadian. It was Godfrey Rampling, and in the final 50 metres of that leg he passed the North Americans so confidently it made their own efforts look insignificant. ‘I just seemed to float around the track,' Rampling recalled, ‘passing people without effort.' It was an incredible run, and it had given the British the lead, a lead that Bill Roberts would do his best to increase. As he waited for the baton, Roberts repeated to himself, ‘Don't twist round, don't turn, just put your arm out.' It was all he had been taught about baton technique, and it was enough. He took it cleanly from Rampling and began his leg of what was now a two-horse race between Britain and the United States, the opposition taking the form of O'Brien, who was at least half-a-foot taller than the small, wiry Salford lad. As they rounded the bend after the back straight, the thrusting O'Brien drew up and even got slightly ahead of Roberts, but the Englishman was having none of it. ‘The iron entered my soul,' Roberts recalled, ‘and I dashed off as if I was a sprinter.' He maintained the racing line, and O'Brien found it impossible to get past. It was now Roberts' turn to put on the pressure, and he humiliated the American by drawing away on the final bend, handing over to Godfrey Brown a lead of some 5 metres.

Brown rocketed off, but Fitch of the United States was determined not to let the British run away with the gold quite so easily. As early as the first bend, the American launched his first assault on the bespectacled figure of Brown. Brown was simply too quick, however, and on the back straight the Englishman maintained a comfortable lead of some 5 metres. On the last bend, Fitch mounted another attack, but his energy was beginning to dwindle, while Brown was beginning to look stronger with each stride. This was confirmed on the final straight, as Brown dramatically increased his pace, and belted to the tape to win by two seconds and some fifteen yards. Brown lifted his arms up in a brief display of joy, jumped a little in the air, but then evidently decided that such goings-on were most un-British and looked down at the ground, somewhat embarrassed with himself. The British time was 3:09, eighttenths of a second slower than the world record set by the Americans four years earlier. Once again, the Germans and the Canadians finished
in exactly the same time–3:11.8–and again the Germans were judged to have beaten the Canadians. Although Rampling's leg was clearly decisive, Roberts' successful tussle with O'Brien was also seen as essential. ‘It really ought to be studied,' said Brown later. ‘So relaxed. So powerful. It just broke the American up.'

The men got into their white tracksuits and mounted the podium, their expressions as inscrutable as their ambassador's. Indeed, it was impossible to tell that they had just won the most important race of their lives. ‘Of course it was a moving movement,' said Roberts, ‘but whether it was the peak of our careers was another matter. We had never run together as a team before, and we never did again.' After the ceremony, there were no victory laps or playing to the crowd. Instead, the foursome posed awkwardly for some photographs and then called it a day. ‘After all,' said Roberts, ‘it was our view that winning wasn't everything. It was the way that you did it that mattered.' Of this at least, Coubertin would have approved.