Wimbush's Luck by John Malone

Wimbush’s Luck

Ever since leaving hospital, Wimbush has been trying to return to active duty in France, making a nuisance of himself by repeated transfer requests to the Admiralty and letters to Wing Captain C. L. Lambe at RNAS Headquarters in Dover. If only he could meet Menckhoff again, he thinks, maybe he could even the score. And what a score there is! Menckhoff continues to shoot down Allied pilots at an awful rate. Wimbush knows from Naval intelligence that his nemesis downed his 20th Allied aeroplane, a British SE5a, on February 4th near Poelcapelle in Flanders. One week later Menckhoff was promoted to Captain and put in command of Jagdstaffel 72, and the tally continues to rise. The man is like a bloody machine! Wimbush is determined to seek him out in single combat and shoot him down.

In March the Navy finally agrees to transfer him back to his old squadron, which has just come back to England on March 3rd and is awaiting orders while enjoying a well-earned month’s rest at Walmer, near Dover. Two thirds of the squadron have been granted leave.

Then, on March 21st, with forty added divisions freed by the surrender of Russia, General Erich Ludendorff suddenly launches massive surprise attacks at five different points along the Western Front, penetrating far into France. All leaves are cancelled. Naval 8 is quickly recalled to duty as part of the newly formed Royal Air Force and becomes RAF 208 Squadron, scheduled to begin operations at La Gorgue aerodrome in France on the first of April. Wimbush is ordered to join them on March 30 at Teleghem on their way to the front lines. At last, he thinks, I get my wish.

In late March, Wimbush receives a telephone call at his parents’ home from the head of Berkhampstead Grammar School, which he and Barker attended until they were twelve. They would like him to make a patriotic speech at the school’s annual Speech Day on the village green on March 27th, two days before his departure from England, to an audience of students, teachers, alumni and their families. Wimbush is embarrassed by the thought of speaking before such a large crowd. Instead, he proposes to borrow a Sopwith Triplane from Chingford and put on an exhibition of aerobatics to entertain the audience. It would be his last chance to fly a Triplane before going back to France to fly Sopwith Camels.

On the morning of the 27th, he drives to Chingford and checks out one of the Triplanes parked on the tarmac, number N5351. It has been based there at Chingford on training duty since leaving the Clayton & Shuttleworth factory in 1916. Like me, he thinks, it’s a survivor.

The crew chief warns him, "Watch out for that one, sir. She’s seen a lot of rough handling by trainees here at Chingford, so do be careful when you dive. Some of these old low numbered tripes try to shake off their wings."

"I’ll be careful, Chief. It wouldn’t do to get knocked about two days before reporting back in France, would it?" The chief salutes and gives him thumbs up for takeoff. As the old Sopwith rumbles down the runway, he thinks, Look out, Menckhoff, you bloody bastard, here I come!

He arrives over Berkhampstead on schedule, buzzes the cheering, waving crowd assembled in the bright sunshine on the village green and begins a series of aerobatics. For his grand finale he chooses the risky triple loop. It is a particularly spectacular stunt when performed in a Sopwith Triplane, as the aeroplane hangs suspended upside down almost motionless at the top of each loop before diving backward into the next loop. He completes two of the loops and dives backward into the third when suddenly the wings collapse, and the Triplane plummets to the ground like a stone in full view of the crowd of horrified onlookers.

Wimbush dies in hospital the following day, two months before his twentieth birthday, with Barbara and his parents at his side. He is buried in Islington Cemetery.

Several months later, the RAF issues a technical order for the installation of a spanwise compression strut between the inboard cabane struts of all the surviving Sopwith Triplanes.

After receiving the coveted Blue Max medal for his 39 air combat victories, surviving wounds on two occasions and escaping from a French POW camp to a new life in Switzerland, Menckhoff dies in 1948 at the age of sixty-five, a successful businessman, mourned by his wife and two children.

In 1924, a new owner purchases the Elysée Restaurant and renames it the Café de Paris. It still survives today as London’s favorite venue for the rich and famous to watch cabarets, drink champagne and dance the night away.

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Wimbush’s Luck

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