Prince William was named after
Prince Charles’s idol Prince William Of Gloucester. He
was the Queen’s cousin (a page boy at her wedding), a daredevil, a real life
Action Man so it was normal that Charles adored him. Sadly William died at just
30 when the plane he was flying crashed at an air show near Wolverhampton. I’ve
seen two documentaries about this man and after watching one thought to myself,
“I’m a nosy geek and going to the exact spot of the crash.” Here I am at the on
the road by some hedges where two lives ended. In recent history
members of the Royal Family live long lives but this one didn’t.
William was high born, his
granddad was King George and his grandma was Queen Mary. He was fourth in line
to the throne when he was born to Duke and Duchess of Gloucester in the Second
World War. When he was baptised at Windsor Castle in 1942 the newspapers didn’t
identify the location of the christening in case it was attacked by German
bombers. It was a traditional childhood: home was Barnwell Manor in
Northamptonshire and his education was the best on offer at Wellesley House
School, Eton College and then onto Magdalene College in Cambridge. He took a
position with Lazards merchant bank and then went
into the diplomatic service.
He was especially cherished by his family as his
mother was forty when she gave birth to him having lost others to miscarriages.
He was their last attempt to have a child. The Press cherished him too as he
got older - film-star looks, flashy cars and a heightened sense of adventure. This
modern daring dude seemed to be tune with the razzamatazz of the sixties. William
didn’t like their flashbulbs though and aged 27 transferred to Tokyo to work at
the British Embassy. Here he had a relationship with Zsuzsi
Starkloff, a former model and stewardess. Bad news: she
was twice divorced and a mother of two small children; William's family
wouldn’t accept the relationship as appropriate. It’s thought the Queen’s
sister Princess Margaret was sent to Tokyo under the varnish of a “business
trip” to scupper the relationship. William was forced to return home anyway
when his dad had a stroke and he was required to look after the family estate
and carry out royal duties as a prince. After much agonising he put the
relationship with Zsuzsi on hold.
William’s passion would kill him. His abiding
love was for aviation and he was the youngest royal member to gain a pilot’s
licence. He needed danger as an antidote to the drudgery of royal duties. He hated
prying eyes and loved getting up in a plane where he could escape from
attention. Flying was nearly everything to him. When he’d got the job in Tokyo
he flew himself there through storms in 16 hours. He was President of the
British Light Aviation Centre and owned several aircraft.
In August 1972 when he attended the Goodyear
International Air Trophy at Bobbington Airport he
considered it one of many he’d attend that year. He loved these amateur air
show races when adrenaline surged. It was a bank holiday Monday and 30,000
spectators watched as the prince arrived looking like James Bond. The press was
there and took photos of the prince polishing his Piper Cherokee. He took off
with Vyrell Mitchell, a pilot with whom he’d raced with
many times before. Almost immediately after take-off
the engine stalled. The plane banked abruptly, a wing hit a tree and they
crashed onto the road. Locals dashed out of their houses to help but the flames
were too intense. It took two hours for the fire brigade to control the flames.
The two bodies were almost cremated and were identified by dental records.
William’s dad was in such poor health that his
wife couldn’t bring herself to tell him about the news. In her memoirs she
guessed he’d learnt about the death from television coverage. Prince William
was buried with some royal pomp in the Royal Burial Ground at Frogmore (next to
his dad.) There’s some footage of it on the internet, the royal family in black
watching the coffin being manoeuvred but it can only have contained ashes.
I struggled to find the crash spot on Six Ashes
Road. It’s a long rural road populated by occasional detached houses and long hedges
(coming into Bobbington I’d passed the death spot and
driven over it - engrossed in an audio book)). I parked the motorhome in a
layby and spent probably two hours tramping around quiet narrow lanes of Bobbington. Frustrated I got in it and drove up some narrow
lanes around the airstrip itself. Normally I give up after ninety minutes but I
knew I must be near the death spot. I showed a photo of the crash to some
people sat outside a pub but had no luck. Growing despondent I was ready to
leave and head for Wales for a couple of days. Eventually I found the exactly
part of the road where the Cherokee crashed, lining up the photo I had with the
road’s bend and lines of trees.
It seemed a little odd to be there where a member
of the Royal family had died so young. I stayed for about twenty minutes unable
to take just five photos and drive off. The tree one wing had clipped is still
there. Had they missed a tree they could have attempted a crash landing in the
field behind it. I could see a dip in the height of the hedges where they’d not
grown back as strongly after the fire. I found a tiny plaque on a tree but
nothing else to mark the spot. Two lives ended here. By the time William died
he was ninth in line to the throne but the press would have loved him.
Some footage of the fateful day is here…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z_vBtWugPy0
There’s a full documentary here…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=brvn4Yet_cU
Prince William was the Queen’s cousin…
At Doddington Airfield…
How it looked in August 1972 on the day of the air
show…
Looking very cool as usual on the day of the air show…
Seconds left…
The man who took photographs on the day visits the
crash spot. I’m stood by the wall…
The plane crashed into the bushes on the left…
You’d never know a member of the Royal Family had died
here…
He was buried at Windsor Castle…
Me at Windsor…
The grave is in the private cemetery…
It’s the grave on the left (next to his dad)…