Devil at My Heels - Louis Zamperini [135]
Panicked, the young man explained the situation as we made our way to where his girlfriend had fallen. I could see her on a rock out-cropping. “Don’t move!” I shouted. “Take a deep breath, relax. I’m coming to get you.” I also told her to protect her head from the rocks that might come her way during my descent.
I had only the ax; what I really needed was my climbing rope. Nonetheless, I clambered down to the rock, gripped her arm, and lowered her onto a narrow ledge. From there I led her along the ledge to safety. She was one grateful girl. Meanwhile, my assistant had moved the class across the mountain so they could watch. Seeing the girl saved had a profound impact on the kids. And that, of course, is what I’ve always been and always hope to be about.
I COULD GO on and tell you about other adventures, personal triumphs, difficult situations, inspirational moments, emotional struggles, and best of all the everlasting rewards of helping others. After all, this story stops when I was about forty years old. I’m eighty-six now. But that’s another book. Let’s just say that I took my place as, I hope, a respected member of the community. I stayed active as a former Olympian and serviceman. I cherished my family. That’s the way life is and is supposed to be. I’ve probably had enough excitement for one man. Smooth seas aren’t so bad. However, one day, in early 1997…
THE PHONE RANG at my house in the Hollywood Hills, and Cynthia answered. Draggan Mihailovich, an Emmy Award–winning senior producer with the Olympic Features Unit of CBS Sports, was on the line—and for some reason he wanted to speak with me.
But I’ll let Draggan tell it:
I’d followed the Olympics and read David Wallechinsky’s books, which had anecdotes about these great Olympic heroes, but I’d never heard of Louie. By sheer chance—it was the luckiest thing in the world—talk about divine intervention or whatnot—I was working on a story and I just happened to go to the news library because I wanted to research the Army’s great football team of 1945 for a piece about their fiftieth anniversary. I wanted to check out the New York Times from then on microfilm, and find out if maybe on the day Army played Navy, did MacArthur land somewhere, or whatever.
So I’m flipping through the pages, and out of the corner of my eye I see the word Olympic and wonder what it was, since 1945 wasn’t an Olympic year and they hadn’t even held an Olympics since 1936. And on the front page of the New York Times, on September 10, I read, ZAMPERINI, OLYMPIC MILER, SAFE AFTER EPIC ORDEAL. I wondered, who is this guy? I started to read the story and realized the reporter had talked to Louie just days after he’d been released. My production assistant was with me, and we were blown away. But we also thought, None of these guys can be alive, so how do you even tell this story?
To be honest—and I hate to admit it—I sat on it for about six months because the prospect of Louie being alive and being able to tell the story anyway was just so out there. Finally, I thought maybe I’ll just give it a shot. I’ll make sure he’s dead; I’ll at least sleep better knowing I gave it my best shot.
I found an address for Louie in Hollywood from 1979, then made a call. Cynthia answered the phone. I’d just had an experience where I called a widow and found out her husband was dead and she took it really badly, so I was already apprehensive. But I introduced myself and said, “Can I speak to Mr. Louis Zamperini?”
She said, “Oh, well…”
And I thought, Oh gosh. Not again.
“…he’s not home right now.”
I said, “Are you kidding? The Louie Zamperini, war hero, prisoner of war, Olympic runner?”
“That’s him. He’s down at the church. He’d love to talk to you.”
And that’s how it started. I called back, spoke to Louie, told him I’d be in California in a couple of weeks and would he mind sitting down and telling me his story.
My story? For nearly fifty years I’d lived my life the way God wanted me to. I’d been active in the church and sports and raising my family. I’d also been honored to run with the