unbroken-laura-hillenbrand

stadium, eyeing the fans. A German woman sitting with
Cummings refused to salute. She shrank between Iris and
her mother, whispering, “Don’t let them see me! Don’t let
them see me!”
——
On August 4, three 5,000-meter qualifying heats were run.
Louie drew the third, deepest heat, facing Lehtinen. The top
five in each heat would make the final. In the first, Lash ran
third. In the second, Tom Deckard, the other American,
failed to qualify. Louie slogged through heat three, feeling fat
and leaden-legged. He barely caught fifth place at the line.
He was, he wrote in his diary, “tired as hell.” He had three
days to prepare for the final.
While he was waiting, an envelope arrived from Pete. Inside
were two playing cards, an ace and a joker. On the joker
Pete had written, “Which are you going to be, the joker,
which is another word for horse’s ass, or the TOPS: Ace of
spades. The best in the bunch. The highest in the deck.
Take your choice!” On the ace he had written, “Let’s see you
storm through as the best in the deck. If the joker does not
appeal to you, throw it away and keep this for good luck.
Pete.”
On August 7, Louie lay facedown in the infield of the
Olympic stadium, readying himself for the 5,000-meter final.
One hundred thousand spectators ringed the track. Louie
was terrified. He pressed his face to the grass, inhaling
deeply, trying to settle his quivering nerves. When the time
came, he rose, walked to the starting line, bowed forward,
and waited. His paper number, 751, flapped against his
chest.
At the sound of the gun, Louie’s body, electric with nervous
energy, wanted to bolt, but Louie made a conscious effort to