Faster by Neal Bascomb

Author:Neal Bascomb
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HMH Books

On July 25, almost half a million fans lined the Nürburgring for the German Grand Prix. Tens of thousands crammed the grandstands and the Karussell, the banked switchback turn halfway through the course. One writer noted that “the whole of sporting Germany seemed to have descended” into the Eifel Mountains to watch the race.

The “cream of the European drivers” were there, competing in the fastest of cars. There was no mistake: the German Grand Prix had usurped the French as the season’s premier event.

“Make a perfect start—a perfect start,” Rudi repeated to himself from his position in the second row of the grid. Left foot on the clutch, he watched for the signal to go. On green, he stabbed the pedals and lurched forward, bursting through the first row, past Bernd, before they headed into the first curve, then Rudi dove down into the forest.

During the practice sessions, the Auto Union driver had astonished everybody by landing his own airplane on the track, climbing into a car, and then clocking the best times. Rudi intended to impress on the only day that mattered. After his quick jump off the grid, he ran a steady, cold-blooded race over the twenty-two laps.

Bernd was slowed by tire trouble and tried recklessly to recover his lost time. Ernst von Delius and Dick Seaman sparred down a straight at 155 mph and crashed terribly. Others bowed out because of mechanical problems, and Tazio Nuvolari simply could not keep up in his Alfa Romeo.

Rudi, sticking to his plan of two pit stops and an uncompromising pace, won with a long lead over his teammate Manfred, followed by Bernd. On the victory stand, Rudi raised his arm in a Sieg Heil salute when his name was called, then received the Hitler Prize with a smile. The trophy, a huge bronze bust of “The Goddess of Speed” with windswept hair and lightning bolts affixed to her temples, was quite a weight in his hands.

Bernd stood beside him on the podium, drawing heavily on a cigarette. Seaman would recover from his injuries, but Bernd was very shaken that Delius, his teammate and best friend, had been rushed to the hospital—and would soon die. Rudi assumed that Bernd’s obvious despair was over losing to him again.

The next morning Hans Bauer, Hitler’s personal pilot, flew Rudi and Manfred to Bayreuth, the Bavarian town where the Nazi leader had his country home. Goebbels welcomed them, and then there was a round of hearty handshakes with Hitler before a photographer took their pictures.

Later that afternoon, Bauer told Rudi that some party higher-ups had heard a rumor that he had taken Swiss citizenship; after all, he was building a house for his new wife there. Was it true? Rudi dug into his pocket and presented Bauer with his German passport. He was a patriot, Rudi implied, same as anyone at Bayreuth. He lived on Lake Lugano because the dry, warm air was good for his leg. This satisfied the pilot. Emboldened by his recent win, Rudi cheekily countered, “Now, I must ask you something.

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