The Boys in the Boat: Chapter 17 Summary & Analysis

As August went on, the weather became cold in Germany. The American rowing team continued to perform badly, rowing inefficiently and weakly. In the evening, they’d go drinking and eating fattening foods. On August 6, Al Ulbrickson finally put his foot down and ordered that they wouldn’t be visiting Berlin or anywhere else until after the games were over. Ulbrickson had been paying close attention to the formidable British rowing team, especially the talented coxswain John Noel Duckworth and the stroke, William George Ranald Mundell Laurie. The British team reminded Ulbrickson of his own boys at their best—they rowed strategically, pressuring their opponents into increasing the stroke rate too much. As the preliminary heats approached, the American team was anxious about its chances of success.

At night, the crew team had a hard time sleeping—it seemed as if there was always some ruckus going on outside, whether from the military practicing its maneuvers at night, or from a drunken group of Olympians coming home late. The crew team developed a device that allowed them to empty a bucket of water on whoever was making a noise outside. One night, the boys tried out their device on a loud Yugoslavian team—they soaked the Yugoslavians, but also some German police officers. Furious the officers burst into the building and demanded to know who’d thrown the water. Looking innocent, the Americans suggested that the Canadians had done it. At lunch next day, the Yugoslavians began singing a strange version of “Yankee Doodle Dandy” to the Americans, implying that they knew the Americans were responsible. Bobby Moch became so furious that he started a fight. Soon, the entire mess hall was fighting. The fighting only ceased when the Dutch national crew separated everyone using “crisp, perfect, diplomatic English.”

In the final days before the Olympics, the American crew team realized something important. Secretly, each one of them believed that they were here due to luck, and that every other member of the team was naturally talented. As the boys opened up to each other about their secret insecurities, they began to rebuild the bond of trust and unity that had helped them win on the Hudson earlier in the year. The boys knew they had two chances to row in the finals: they could win their preliminary heat outright, or they could win in a repachage—a second preliminary heat. In the days leading up to the heats, Ulbrickson made a point of backing off and letting the boys rest. Pocock had rebuilt the Husky Clipper for the Washington team; however, he noted that the American boats being used for the other rowing events were “heavy, shoddy, old, and decrepit.” Sure enough, American teams did poorly in the other crew events at the 1936 Olympics.

On August 12, the day of the eight-oar preliminaries, Don Hume was still very sick, and he’d lost fourteen pounds. But he insisted that he was well enough to row that day. In the heat, America faced Japan, Britain, Czechoslovakia, and France. America got off to a bad start, with the Japanese taking an early lead. America passed the Czech team, then eased the stroke rate down to thirty-four. Meanwhile, the British team kept an equally low stroke rate, waiting for the perfect time to pull ahead. Gradually, America increased its rate, leading the British to do the same. But both teams were “saving something.” As the teams entered the final mile, Britain was ahead, but the Americans began to pull harder. In the last hundred yards, they passed Britain and won by twenty feet. Don Hume rowed so intensely that he passed out after crossing the finish line. America had set a new world record.

Al Ulbrickson was proud of his team, but he worried about the final race. Don Hume was still very sick, and seemed like he might have a bronchial infection. Meanwhile, the other teammates explored Berlin to celebrate their victory. Unbeknownst to any of them, Berlin was in the middle of one of the most barbaric periods in its history, during which troops captured and murdered tens of thousands of Jews, Catholics, homosexuals, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and other “undesirables” living in the city. Instead of seeing the truth about Nazi Germany, though, the boys saw only the cheerful propaganda that Joseph Goebbels had worked hard to create.

After the reperchage the following day, Ulbrickson knew that America would be racing against Italy, Germany, Britain, Hungary, and Switzerland. To his fury, Germany and Italy had been given the two best lanes in the competition, lanes one and two (the protected lanes closest to shore), while Britain and America, the two top contenders, had been given the two worst lanes (the lanes farthest from shore, in which choppy water was most likely).

The next morning, it rained heavily. At breakfast, the boys ate in silence—they’d been working for this day for the last three years. Ulbrickson had decided that Don Hume wouldn’t be rowing: Don Coy, the alternate, would take his place. After some thought, however, the boys agreed that it was inconceivable for anyone but Hume to row with them. Jim McMillin, team captain, told Ulbrickson how the team felt. McMillin and Bobby Moch insisted that Hume could still row—in fact, they needed him to set the rhythm of the boat. Ulbrickson hesitated, and then agreed.

At the water, tens of thousands of fans had turned out to watch the rowing finals. Rowing was the second most popular Olympic event at the time, after track, and many believed that Germany would win that year. Leni Riefenstahl’s cameras had been carefully mounted, and as the hour of the race approached, German spectators shouted “Sieg Heil!”, signaling that Adolf Hitler had arrived. The afternoon began with the shorter events, working up to the eight-man, four-mile race. Germany won many events, and after each victory, Hitler and his entourage cheered. At six pm, the boys, including Don Hume, prepared for their race. Ulbrickson and Pocock were nervous—the odds of taking gold with Hume in such poor shape were slim. Meanwhile, millions of Americans were listening to the radio for Olympic news.

The boys took their positions and prepared for the race to begin. With the wind howling, the official starter emerged from his tent, holding his flag. He shouted something unintelligible to the American and British teams, and then dropped the flag. Four of the boats pushed forward, but neither the British nor the American boat moved—the coxswains hadn’t seen that the race had begun.