Christmas Eve, 1918: an RE8 of “A” Flight, 42 Squadron RAF crashes on take-off at Saultain. Nobody seems particularly hurt, or in fact bothered. The only casualties looks as if they were the aircraft, and the young pilot’s wounded pride. It’s an occasion for a group photograph. This was probably the most exciting event of the day, by some margin. The squadron’s Daily Routine Orders are consistent with essentially nothing happening.
Daily Routine Orders
Apart from the routine appointment of the Orderly Officer and the NCO in charge of the Guard: nothing.
‘Finis’
Here is the evocative group photograph, which is in Greg’s collection with the simple caption ‘Finis’:
Although the photograph is undated and otherwise unmarked, there is enough information in it for us to find out what happened, when, and where.
Investigating the Crash at Saultain
The aircraft is (or at least was) an RE8. The photograph’s presence in Greg’s collection is already a strong indication that it was on the strength of 42 Squadron. The large ‘A’ on the fuselage shows that it was an “A” flight machine. But the key to unlocking further information is the serial number on the tail: C2969.
The ever useful databases on Air History’s RFC pages tell us that this particular aircraft:
- came to 42 Squadron RAF from No 1. Aero Supply Depot (ASD) only on 1 November 1918;
- crashed on 24 December 1918; and
- returned (in bits) to No 1. ASD on 1 January 1919. (More on No. 1 ASD in the post for 3 June 1918.)
The casualty report for the crash, recorded in The National Archives’ file AIR 1/865 and also in Air History’s RFC pages, was as follows:
Crashed in climbing turn to avoid trees and church on t/o [take off] for test. 2Lt WY Gothorp Ok/2Lt DF Turpin Ok
And since 42 Squadron was based at Saultain at the time, that is where Lts. Gothorp and Turpin would have taken off from, and crashed.
2/Lt William Yeats Gothorp
Lt Gothorp, the pilot, was even younger than Greg – by almost a year. Perhaps he is the one in the photograph by the pilot’s compartment, in flying kit, standing on the root of the lower wing. Certainly he looks very young. He also looks mortified. From the casualty report it’s difficult to attribute the crash to anything other than pilot error. It’s not as if the church and the trees were new obstacles that had suddenly arrived. No wonder he has the expression of one who wishes that the ground would open up and swallow him.
William Yeats Gothorp was born on 10 December 1899, which meant that he celebrated his 19th birthday only two weeks before this day, which he would probably have preferred to forget. A register in Bedale, Yorkshire records his birth as having been entered in January 1900, which would tally with his pre-Christmas birth date. Sadly, another Yorkshire register, this time in Ripon, records in March 1920 the death of a William Y. Gothorp, who was born “abt 1900”. If this was the same William Gothorp, then he didn’t live long beyond his 20th birthday.
2/Lt Douglas Frederick Turpin
The observer was Lt Turpin, who was bit older. Maybe he’s the one sitting on top of the fuselage, by the observer’s compartment, with his feet dangling down the side. He looks pretty fed up.
Born on 4 March 1898 in south London, Douglas Frederick Turpin would have been 20 at the time of the crash. The London Gazette for 10 December 1918 records that he was granted a temporary commission as a Second Lieutenant (Observer Officer) on 16 November 1918. So he’d not been long in the job.
Post-war records show that a Douglas Frederick Turpin of the right age to be our man was a commercial traveller in textiles when he married Marjorie Eleanore Taylor on 8 April 1925. The death of a Douglas F. Turpin, born “abt 1899” is recorded in a March 1964 northern Surrey register.
Thanks to Margaret Sheard for sourcing the register information.
The Others in The Photograph
The identifications above of Lts. Gothorp and Turpin are tentative. But that’s better than we can do for the rest of them. Just possibly, the figure on the right in a peaked hat and a mackintosh, with one arm akimbo and a rueful grin, is Greg. He had memories from 4 June 1918 of what it was like to write-off an RE8! But I wouldn’t swear it was him.
And the rest? Well, the facial expressions and bodily attitudes still speak to us over the intervening 100 years. The sergeant standing apparently in the observer’s compartment to the left of Lt Turpin seems to be thinking “These kids…”. And to the left of him, the NCO (warrant officer, maybe?) wearing the forage cap and gloves standing in front of the fuselage almost has written on his face “What a bloody shambles”. While the young airman on the far left looks as if he knows that it would be a lot better for him if he said nothing at all.
At the front of the wrecked plane are a pair also in flying kit who seem to be relieved that it wasn’t them. To their right, there’s another very young and worried looking fellow in flying kit, apparently thinking “There but for the grace of God…” Next to him is a grinning officer who looks as if he’s going to be ribbing the unfortunate flight crew mercilessly in the mess that evening. And on the far right, there are some boys who no doubt came scuttling on to the scene as soon as they saw the plane come down: “Qu’est-ce qu’il se passe ici, M’sieurs?”
The Photograph Itself
It’s interesting that the photograph was evidently posed and taken with a ‘proper’ military camera. This wasn’t a mere snapshot taken with a VPK – a Vest Pocket Kodak – such as Greg had (as explained in About). Perhaps it was symptomatic in these post-armistice days that everyone had enough time on their hands to take part. Even if poor Lt Gothrop wished they had better things to do than memorialise his evident discomfort.
And the caption is symbolic. ‘Finis’ – the end. Not the end of the fighting. That was on 11 November 1918 on the Western Front. And not the end of 42 Squadron’s time in France. That would be in the new year. But it conveys the sense of the end of an era. This chapter is closed; time to move on.
Haec est finis.
