Read Online Devil at My Heels: The Story of Louis Zamperini by Louis Zamperini - Free Book Online

another. The Germans picked their most beautiful girls to wait on us; young, comely Fraüleins all. They treated us like kings. The night before the train ride to Hamburg our hosts threw a banquet at a luxurious country club. In the great dining room were long tables covered with delicacies. Again, the girls conscripted by Hitler to wait on our team were absolutely gorgeous, and apparently thrilled to serve us.
    My friend from the flag-stealing incident and I told the two cutest gals that we wanted to see them after the banquet. Soon we were outside, hidden under the orange trees, necking. That’s all we did—honest. When it was time to go, our bus driver kept honking the horn but we couldn’t leave our beautiful companions. Then our teammates hollered and we had to break the clinch. The girls ran after us, crying, “Please take us to America!” I got a lot of good-natured grief from the team about that incident.
    Next we had an exhibition track meet in Hamburg. To welcome the team they set up another huge dining room full of food. The bar had a big groove down the middle so they could slide glasses of beer right to you. Naturally, I gorged myself, until they announced it was time to get ready for the meet. The team thought the meet was the next day. What a dirty trick. Our distance runners refused to compete because they knew racing on a full stomach would kill them. Only the field-event guys went.
    That was our farewell to Germany. The next day everyone boarded the SS Roosevelt for home, with a stop in England to compete in the British Empire Games.
     
    THE ACCOMMODATIONS IN London were atrocious. While the Olympic Committee stayed at the Grosvenor Hotel, we were bused out of town and billeted at some dreary-looking slum in the boondocks, with no opportunity to see London or have a social life. The stairs of these tall tenements were so narrow I had to carry my bag in front of me, up six flights. My room made me want to sleep on the street. I guess the others felt the same because when I went down again, everyone was outside and unhappy.
    We took a quick vote and decided not to work out that day and toboycott the Empire Games altogether. We’d simply sit on the curb and wait until the Olympic Committee came out to hear our grievances.
    When Brundage arrived he stormed into the group and demanded we accept the accommodations we had. “We want to stay at the same hotel you’re at, the Grosvenor,” countered the older Olympians, speaking for the group. They argued, Brundage left, came back. We didn’t waver. Finally he agreed. He had to.
    Later, just to spite the Committee, we ordered the most expensive French Champagne for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and charged it to our rooms.
     
    MY TRAIN TRIP from New York back to Torrance took about five days. I arrived in the evening. The new Torrance police chief, John Strohe, met me at the Los Angeles depot and drove me through the city, sirens screaming and red lights flashing. When we reached the outskirts of town I noticed a crowd in the street. I jumped out, thinking there’d been an accident.
    The people lifted me onto a ton-and-a-half truck and put me on a sparkling white throne surrounded by several athletes in tracksuits. I sat there embarrassed, my face burning. I’d planned a quiet homecoming and had not even wired my parents until I’d reached Chicago.
    Torrance Square was full when we arrived. The town’s fire engine drove around trailing streamers that read, ZAMPERINI COMING HOME TONIGHT . Loudspeakers blared, “Welcome home, Louie.” It was simply overwhelming.
    I had always shied away from public displays of affection, but the townspeople had me cornered. I said a few words and sat down, waiting for my chance to sneak away. Then I spotted a crippled woman in her wheelchair, the stepmother of my best friend. She liked argyle socks and I’d remembered to buy her a pair in New York. I jumped off of the platform and gave her the gift and a big hug.
    That