IIILONDON
THE flight from Brussels was comparatively simple and there was little or no strain on the plane. The pilot steered straight across the Channel, reaching England on the southeast corner.
The weather was nearly perfect; in fact Lindbergh was never privileged during his stay in England to see a real London fog.
It did not seem long before he found himself throttling his motor above the great field at Croyden on the outskirts of London. A tremendous crowd had gathered—a crowd almost as large as that which had watched him land that memorable night at Le Bourget. And again nosooner had his wheels touched the ground than this crowd, too, made a rush for his plane. Fortunately, officials of the Royal Air Club dashed up in a motor car and got the pilot aboard just in time to rescue him from the uncontrollable enthusiasm of the throng.
As in Paris, all the carefully laid plans of the reception committee were swept aside. Even Secretary for Air, Sir Samuel Hoare, and Ambassador Houghton were swallowed up by the multitude. Later another crowd, almost as large, was found waiting at the American Embassy for a glimpse of the American air traveller.
Then came welcomed rest. Lindbergh dined with some friends of the Ambassador and went to bed early. Next morning he went direct to Croyden and found that, despite his fears, very little harm had been done to his ship save for one little hole in the wing and a landing strut that had lost two bolts.
Monday was a comparatively quiet day. There was a luncheon at the Embassy attendedby many persons prominent in the government and otherwise. One war hero was perhaps especially interesting to an air man. This was Lieut.-Col. W. A. Bishop, the Canadian ace, who had brought down 72 German planes.
In the afternoon a Memorial Day service was held at St. Margaret’s Church, Westminster. This honoring in England of our Civil War dead was a strange experience for the visitor. One of the veterans present, Jabez Jrayell, aged 86, had known President McKinley as a comrade in arms. After the service and sermon a procession formed, which, headed by the Stars and Stripes, moved slowly from the church to Westminster Abbey. There, Ambassador Houghton, with Lindbergh at his side, walked to a tomb and laid a wreath on which was inscribed:
“In memory of England’s unknown warrior from the American people.”
In the evening British newspaper men gave Lindbergh a dinner in the Abraham Lincoln room of the Savoy. On the speaker’s table beforethe guest of honor were five sandwiches and a half gallon jar of water. The Chairman gravely announced: “Captain Lindbergh will now partake of his customary meal.” After a round of laughing applause the real dinner began.
Next morning was the 31st of May. On this day Lindbergh was received by the King of England. King George talked to him alone for some time about his flight, and by his conversation showed he understood a great deal about flying. Setting aside all precedent, he personally presented Lindbergh with the Royal Air Force Cross. The only other Americans who ever received this cross were the crew of the NC-4, the United States Navy plane, which crossed the Atlantic by way of the Azores.
After his conversation with the King, Lindbergh was presented to Queen Mary. From Buckingham Palace he went to York House to be received by the Prince of Wales. The Prince wanted to know what he was going to do in thefuture, to which Lindbergh promptly replied: “I am going to keep on flying.”
He visited Prime Minister Baldwin at Number 10 Downing Street, the little house from which so big a slice of this world is being run. Mr. Baldwin took him out on the balcony to watch the colorful ceremony known as the Trooping of the Colors, which epitomizes the dignity and power of the British empire.
At a luncheon given by the Air Council, Lindbergh was presented with theDaily Mail’sgold aviation cup, which was instituted many years ago by the late Lord Northcliffe. Here Sir Samuel Hoare was the principal speaker. After complimenting Lindbergh on his flight he continued:
“There are some foolish people—I am glad to think there are very few of them—who are asking you the question: ‘Of what use to the world are these efforts and sacrifices? Of what use to the world is a flight like Captain Lindbergh’s?’ If I had time I should prove to them that from a technical point of view these long distant flights are of great value. They stimulate progress; they test reliability.
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“Is it not of value to the technical progress of aviation that a single air-cooled engine of 220 H. P., consuming only 10 gallons of petrol an hour, should have travelled over 3600 miles and been fit for another lap at the end of this?
“Is not a long distance flight of this kind of great value as a test of aerial navigation? Flying through fogs and storms, Captain Lindbergh never seems to have deflected from his course. Surely this experience is not only a testimony of his great skill as a navigator but also a lesson in the study of navigation. But I set aside these technical justifications, for upon a flight of this kind the world at large rightly reaches its verdict upon broader grounds. The peoples of many countries are today applauding Captain Lindbergh’s achievement not so much because some material gain will be obtained in this or that way, but because it is a fine example of nerve andendurance, of skill, courage, enterprise and adventure.
“The more drab the world becomes the more gladly we welcome such fine achievements as his.
“Today therefore I ask you to drink to the health of Captain Lindbergh as the pilot who has broken the world’s record, and as a worthy representative of our close friends and war allies, the pilots of the United States of America. Still more, however, do I ask you to drink to his health as a young man who embodies the spirit of adventure and lights up the world with a flash of courage and daring, and, I am glad to say, of success.”
In the late afternoon, at the invitation of Lord and Lady Astor, Lindbergh had tea at the House of Commons. That evening the Royal Air Club gave him a dinner at the Savoy. From there he went to a Swedish festival and at midnight attended the famous Derby Eve Ball at Albert Hall. He arrived with the Prince of Wales and as he entered the band struck up“Yankee Doodle.” There he made his shortest speech of many short ones. It was simply: “I thank you for my reception tonight. It has been one of the greatest of my life.”
On June 1st Lindbergh saw his first Derby. Three hundred thousand people had travelled to Epsom Downs to see this great traditional spectacle of horse racing. As the visiting flier was guest of Lord Lonsdale he sat in a box surrounded by royalty.
That evening was his last in England’s capital. The combined American societies of London entertained him at a banquet. After many speeches, Sir Samuel Hoare rose once more to the occasion and expressed this parting thought:
“Perhaps before long, instead of a single flight, we can induce you to make a regular habit of it. The sooner air communications are established between the two English speaking nations, the better our relations will be. You came to us as a great aviator, but I know you leave as a real friend of England. I am not surethat the latter part of your trip has not been as important as your first.
“It was a triumph of man over machinery, of man over the brute forces of nature. The flight was a tribute to the young men of the world—of the new generation which has sprung up since the war, determined to subdue the forces of nature—determined in the near future to make the air a great highway for intercourse between your people and ours.”
The day set for departure was misty. On arrival at Kinnerly Airdrome Lindbergh found conditions too difficult to fly to Paris. So there he remained that night as the guest of the Royal Air Force. But he had little sleep; for at 3:30 a messenger awakened him with word the weather was clearing.
He hopped off at 6:20A.M.but thirty-eight minutes later, due to low visibility, he came down at Lympnel, England. At eight o’clock a big Handley Page mail and passenger plane flew over. Whereupon Lindbergh quickly wentaloft and used the big ship as a guide all the way to Le Bourget.
In the afternoon he attended a ceremony at the Swedish Church in Paris and the next morning—Saturday June 5th,—he took-off for Cherbourg at 9:22 accompanied by twenty planes.
Just as he was ready to go, Costes and Rignot, the two French aviators who were leaving on their eastward trip in an effort to beat the non-stop record he had established, came over to say good-by and he wished them Godspeed.
On the way to Cherbourg Lindbergh ran into wind, rain, hail and fog. He landed there at 11:35 amid what seemed to be the entire population of the port. He was cordially welcomed by the full staff of city officials. After lunch at the Mayor’s château he was motored into the city proper, and at the Gare Maritime a plaque was unveiled commemorating the spot where he had first flown over France on his way to Le Bourget.
To avoid pressure of the crowd he jumpedupon a Cunard tender at the dock and reached the fast launch of Admiral Burrage which carried him to theU.S.S. Memphis, ordered by President Coolidge to bring the flier home.