After a piece of dry toast and some hair of the dog, Martha felt much better, so they decided to join the opening ceremonies in progress. They had slept through numerous official events—religious services, a wreath laying at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, synchronized athletic displays by thousands of German schoolchildren, Goebbels’s speech at the Old Museum for International Olympic Committee guests and thirty thousand members of the Hitler Youth—but Martha and Thomas agreed they were quite happy to have avoided those. The more compelling events were yet to come.
Thomas had arranged for a driver, but they made it only a few miles down the Via Triumphalis before they were forced to divert to a side street to clear the way for the official procession. From what Martha had seen, it appeared that the entire route was guarded by vast numbers of SS, SA, officers of the Berlin police force, and members of the National Socialist Motor Corps. Filling the sidewalks behind them, tens of thousands of citizens awaited the parade of dignitaries, shifting about and craning their necks in hope of finding an unimpeded view.
At the Reichssportfeld,guards were posted at every stadium entrance, vending booths were shuttered, and nearby restaurants and bars were closed. “I hear they put the international press corps near the Honor Loge to discourage protestors from planting a bomb beneath Hitler’s chair,” Martha remarked as they made their way to their seats in the embassy box a few rows behind the Führer’s.
Hitler’s state box was empty, she noted as she exchanged greetings with friends and embassy officials, some of whom had been there since one o’clock, when the gates had opened so that spectators could be seated well before the Führer made his grand entrance. To keep the crowd entertained in the meantime, the Berlin Philharmonic, the National Orchestra, and the Bayreuth Wagner Festival choir were presenting a joint concert. “Wagner, of course,” said Thomas, cocking an ear, giving Martha a little nudge as they settled into their seats.
“What’s a Nazi spectacle without a bit of Wagner?” Shading her eyes with her hand, Martha turned her gaze skyward, marveling at the giant zeppelinHindenburgas it cruised back and forth, an Olympic banner trailing from the gondola. The airship was a symbol of German engineering genius and a source of considerable national pride, and she was not at all surprised to see it on display, impressing the international audience with every graceful pass over the stadium.
A few minutes before four o’clock, a trumpet fanfare and the raising of theFührerstandarte, a red swastika on a purple field, announced Hitler’s arrival. Upon spotting their Führer entering the stadium through the Marathon Gate with a few IOC executives, the vast majority of the hundred thousand spectators leapt to their feet, thrust out their right arms, and roared thunderous approval. Instinctively Martha covered her ears, but she still felt the prolonged wave of frenzied cheering as a rattle in her spine.
As the roar subsided from its peak, the combined Olympic Symphony Orchestra struck up Wagner’s “March of Honor” as Hitler and his entourage strode across the field. They paused halfway across so that Hitler could accept aHitlergruss, a bouquet of flowers, and a pretty curtsey from an adorable young girl, blond-haired and probably blue-eyed. Martha rolled her eyes when Hitler took the child’s hand and briefly knelt to speak with her, all paternal warmth and kindness, melting the heart of every Aryan mother present.
Thomas leaned close so she could hear him beneath the din. “Aren’t you sorry now that your first date didn’t lead to more?”
“Not one bit,” she retorted.
When Hitler and the other dignitaries finally took their places, Martha was pleased by Thomas’s sardonic delight that for the rest of the Games they would enjoy an excellent view of the back of the Führer’s head. Immediately thereafter, the orchestra struck up the German national anthem and the flags of the participating nations were slowly raised up fifty-two flagpoles. Next the solemn, deep tolling of the Olympic bell heralded the traditional march of the national teams into the stadium. Leading the procession was Greece, the birthplace of the Olympiad, followed by the other nations in alphabetical order, except for the host nation, which customarily entered last. Hitler and the dignitaries stood throughout to receive the salute of each nation as its athletes passed before the Honor Loge.
It quickly became apparent to Martha that the predominantly German audience applauded each country not only according to long-standing sentimental ties, but also commensurate with the degree of deference they appeared to show the Führer. The Austrians received resounding cheers for offering theHitlergrussas their flag bearer dipped their standard to Hitler when they passed in review. So too did the Italians, whoseHitlergrussmay also have come in tribute to Hitler’s burgeoning friendship with Mussolini. The Turks, who held the Nazi salute for the entire procession, received a roar of approval, as did the Bulgarians, who added a goose-step to their fascist salute for good measure.
To Martha’s surprise, the French also received hearty applause, even though they acknowledged the Honor Loge not with theHitlergruss, with the arm raised to the front, but with the traditional Olympic salute, with the right arm lifted to the side.
“It’s unfortunate the two salutes look so much alike,” Martha said to Thomas. “The Nazis will interpret it as they please.”
The United Kingdom avoided any misunderstanding. Their athletes kept their arms at their sides, swinging in time with the march, and when they passed before the Führer, in union they acknowledged him with a crisp “eyes right.” A faint smattering of applause was nearly drowned out by jeers, but as far as Mildred could tell Hitler betrayed no reaction.
Then came the United States, the penultimate team before the host country. The Americans eschewed the traditional salute and did not dip their flag to Hitler in passing, but rather removed their boater hats, held them over their hearts, and kept their eyes fixed on the Stars and Stripes. A harsh roar of protests and catcalls rained down from the stands, but the American athletes strode on without flinching, proud and purposeful.
Martha clapped until her hands stung, as did everyone else in the embassy box, ignoring the grumbles and sidelong looks of those seated around them.
“What did the Nazis expect?” said Thomas. “If the Yanks didn’t dip the flag to the British king at the London Games in 1908, they certainly weren’t going to do it for Herr Hitler today.”
The crowd’s disgruntlement quickly gave way to exultation as the German team marched in behind a large swastika banner. The orchestra played the German national anthem again, followed immediately by the “Horst Wessel Lied,” to thunderous applause and ecstatic cheers from the home crowd.
“Sport as political theater,” Thomas drawled as the ceremonies continued, through a lengthy speech by the president of the German Olympic Committee to the swift and triumphant entrance of the last Olympic torchbearer. “When the Games are through, everyone will carry home the impression that Germany is the most hospitable, peace-loving nation on earth, if you can overlook all the martial flourishes.”
Martha shared his wary disgust, but in the days that followed, that was not enough to keep either of them away from the competitions. She invited several other friends to join them in the embassy box, and Mildred often accepted. The recent publication of her translation of Irving Stone’sLust for Lifehad taken some of the sting out of the closing of the Abendgymnasium, but Martha knew she worried about finding a new job. Martha hoped the Olympics would provide a restorative distraction.
Mildred was very glad to see Thomas again, and he seemed even more delighted to reunite with her—as he should be, Martha thought, given the glowing articles Mildred had written about him. As the days passed, the three friends observed and quietly discussed Hitler at least as much as the sporting events. Hitler evidently enjoyed track and field, for he attended nearly every day. Whenever a German athlete won, he beamed, slapped his thighs, and applauded with great enthusiasm. When the gold medalists approached his box to be congratulated, as was the custom, he sprang to his feet and received them with warmth and good humor.
Not so when athletes from other nations took the gold.
On one particularly successful day for the United States, the Stars and Stripes were raised at least five times, almost in succession, and everyone in the stadium was obliged to stand for “The Star-Spangled Banner”—including the Führer, who saluted with his arm outstretched and a surly expression that worsened with each repetition, even more so if the victor was colored. Day after day Hitler was subjected to marvelous performances by American athletes, including thrilling races won by Jesse Owens, the Alabama native who had broken three world records and tied a fourth as a student at Ohio State. His astonishing speed and physical prowess quickly won over the crowd, but whenever Owens or another colored American athlete won, the Führer conveniently managed to be away from his box when they came to receive his congratulations.
This had not escaped the notice of Martha and her friends, and they fixed the Führer with hard, indignant looks as he left his box soon after Owens won the gold medal in the 100 meters. “The Americans should be ashamed of themselves, letting Negroes win their medals for them,” Hitler remarked to hisGruppenführerBaldur von Schirach, leader of the Hitler Youth, as they strode past the embassy box, or so Mildred translated for her friends. “I shall not shake hands with this Negro. Do you really think that I will allow myself to be photographed shaking hands with a Negro?”
Later, after Jesse Owens took his third gold medal, Hitler suddenly hastened away on what Martha acidly assumed was another invented errand. Along the way, he spoke earnestly to his companion, whom Martha recognized from an embassy dinner as Albert Speer, the architect.
As Hitler passed their box, Mildred drew in a breath sharply.
“What’s wrong?” Martha asked.
Mildred hesitated. “Hitler is... very annoyed by Owens’s victories.”
“Obviously, but what did he say?”
“I’d rather not repeat it.”
