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Casualty of the Great War, Wilfred was killed on active service.

The Graves Registration Report Form states that he formerly served with the 10th Australian Field Ambulance and was attached to the RFC. The inscription on his grave states “Late A.I.F.”

He was a Lieutenant in the Royal Flying Corps (Special Reserve)

He was 22 and the son of the late Dr. H. R. Salmon and Alice Jane Salmon, of Ballarat, Victoria, Australia.

Deaths Sep 1917   Salmon Wilfred G 22 Dartford 2a 560
 

Lt. Wilfred Graham Salmon was killed in action over London during German bombing raid. Our then official war correspondent, C.E.W. Bean wrote an article which appeared in the Adelaide Advertisor in November 1917, concerning the contribution our aviators were making, “Another Australian soldier whose name ought to live in the annals of flying was 2nd-Lieutenant Wilfred Graham Salmon, who as the merest novice went by himself straight into the heart of over twenty huge German planes which raided London last June, and who when hit managed to guide his machine into within a few hundred yards of his aerodrome before the brave effort ended and he crashed.”

Salmon was based at Dartford in Kent with the 63rd Training Squadron and was flying a Sopwith Pup when he made his attack on the German Gotha bombers. He received a fatal head wound which caused him to crash near Joyce Green aerodrome. It was established that he had fired 55 rounds from his own gun. Nine English citizens, who removed his goggles, seat belt and gloves, as well as other items from his aircraft, as souvenirs, were later arrested and charged with looting.

The summary below was completed by Cathy Sedgwick – Facebook “WW1 Australian War Graves in England/UK

Died on this date - 7th July......Lieutenant Wilfred Graham Salmon was born at Ballarat East, Victoria in 1895. He enlisted in the Australian Imperial Force (A.I.F.) on 5th June, 1915 as a Station Manager from Ballarat, Victoria.

Driver Wilfred Graham Salmon embarked from Melbourne on HMAT Wiltshire (A18) on 18th November, 1915 & disembarked at Suez on 15th December, 1915 & proceeded to join M.E.F. (Mediterranean Expeditionary Force). He had contact with Meningitis & was admitted to Hospital at Tel-el Kebir from 16th February & was discharged on 19th February, 1916.

Driver Salmon arrived in France on 19th March, 1916 with the British Expeditionary Force.

Driver Wilfred Graham Salmon was transferred to the Royal Flying Corps on 8th November, 1916 & joined Royal Flying Corps Training Depot on 9th November, 1916.

Driver Wilfred Graham Salmon was officially discharged from A.I.F. (Australian Imperial Force) in London, England on 16th March, 1917 as he had been granted a Commission in the Royal Flying Corps. He had served for 1 year & 248 days with the Australian Imperial Force.
Wilfred Graham Salmon was to be 2nd Lieutenant on Probation from 17th March, 1917.

2nd Lieutenant Wilfred Graham Salmon, of No. 63 Reserve Squadron, was flying a Sopwith Pup A6230 from R.F.C. Joyce Green, on 7th July, 1917 when he engaged in attacking a daylight raid by German Gotha bombers. The 22 Gotha bombers, which arrived over the east coast, formed up over Epping Forest and proceeded to bomb the East End and the City of London. 2nd Lieutenant Wilfred Graham Salmon had apparently been able to fire off 55 rounds before he received a head wound. He attempted to return to Joyce Green Airfield but lost control and crashed. The raid resulted in 57 deaths and 193 injuries on the ground.

Lieutenant Wilfred Graham Salmon was killed in action on 7th July, 1917 near Joyce Green, England from wounds received while attacking the enemy in the air. He is listed in the UK Soldiers died in the Great War 1914-1919.

Lieutenant Wilfred Graham Salmon was buried in Watling Street Cemetery, Dartford, Kent, England & has a Private Headstone. His death is still acknowledged by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.

(The above is a summary of my research. The full research can be found by following the link below)
https://ww1austburialsuk.weebly.com/dartford.html

AN AUSTRALIAN AVIATOR,
FUNERAL AT DARTFORD.
LONDON, Wednesday. — The funeral of the late William Salmon, of Ballarat, Australia, a member of the Royal Flying Corps, who was killed in last Saturday's raid, took place at  Dartford. The coffin lay in the parish church over night, and hundreds viewed it. The local Council, members of Parliament, and officers attended the funeral. Rev. Ashley Brown, an Australian chaplain, officiated and the Australian Band headed the procession. There were many wreaths, including one from the local Council and residents. Business was suspended during the funeral, and thousands lined the streets.

From Ballarat & District in the Great War

Lieutenant Wilfred Graham Salmon, AIF and RAF
Extended 
 
One of the true terrors of the Great War occurred well away from the frontline. Long-range bombing raids by German aircraft and Zeppelins brought a new fear to civilians in England. The war became more immediate, more personal. When a young Ballarat pilot took on the enemy over the Thames valley on 7 July 1917, he was determined to exact a level of revenge. His name was Wilfred Salmon.

The Salmon name was well-known in Ballarat. Harry Salmon had built a reputation not only as a fine and caring doctor, he was also a generous supporter of his adopted community. Born in Notting Hill, London on 14 May 1861, Henry Robert Salmon was the son of banker, John Salmon, and grandson of the Reverend Alexander Salmon, a minister with the Free Church of Scotland. And they were very proud Scots – for several generations they had lived in the town of Cambuslang, which is now part of the outer suburbs of Glasgow.

For the Salmon family, education was everything. The family had ventured to the colonies in the late 1840’s, but returned to Europe due to Alexander Salmon’s poor health. Having settled permanently in Victoria in the early 1860’s, John Salmon and his wife, Marianne Sharp, seemed determined to provide the best possible schooling for their children. Harry Salmon received his early education at Brighton College; he was also a boarder at Geelong College in 1874, before continuing on to Trinity College at the University of Melbourne to study for a Bachelor of Medicine. His degree was conferred in December 1885. Harry then spent a year as surgeon on the training ship Nelson before taking up practice in Ballarat East at the end of 1886.

Harry Salmon was troubled by the high mortality rate in disadvantaged children, and he took a special interest in paediatric care. His residence in Victoria Street (later known as Warrawee) was substantial and offered the advantages of a small private hospital.

On 25 October 1888, Henry married Alice Jane Walter at the Melbourne Catholic Apostolic Church. Alice was herself born in the Melbourne suburb of Brighton on 22 December 1865. Her father, John Charles Walter, came to Victoria in 1852, where he immediately joined the civil service as a clerk in the Treasury Department. Alice’s family was predominantly English, with the Walter family coming from Newland in Worcestershire. Newland would become the name of the family home in Lambeth Avenue, Malvern.

Although Harry and Alice were married in the Catholic Church, their children were all to be raised in the Church of England. Their family church was St Paul’s Bakery Hill, which was just around the corner from home. Harry Salmon, given his position within the community, was almost expected to contribute at a high level to the congregation.

Alice Walter came from a very large family; her mother gave birth to 18 children. However, seven died early. No doubt Alice also expected many children of her own. Indeed, over the next eighteen years she was to give birth to twelve babies. However, even the careful care of her husband could not prevent the deaths of two in infancy.

Their fourth child, Wilfred Graham, was born at home on 20 September 1894. Wiff, as he was known, was eventually the middle son, with his older brothers being Jack and Bob, followed by the youngest boys, Geoff and Ron.

Wiff had not reached his fourth birthday when his paternal grandfather, John Salmon, died from pneumonia on 7 March 1898. Salmon had purchased the property Brim Brim in Lal Lal Street, Buninyong just seven years earlier and was revered as one of the colony’s earliest pioneers. His widow was to be an important figure in young Wiff’s early years.

The Salmon children could not have failed to be influenced by their remarkable father. Not only was he an excellent doctor and a skilled surgeon, Harry Salmon was a kind man. Whilst his children were probably not aware of the free medical care he provided for Ballarat’s homeless they would have felt the generosity of his spirit. And he seemed to be involved in everything, especially sport. For some years he was the president of the Ballarat Cricket Club, before becoming the foundation president of the newly formed Ballarat and District Cricket Association. He occupied similar positions with the Ballarat branch of the Victorian Amateur Athletic Association and was a judge of the Amateur Boxing and Wrestling competitions. From being honorary surgeon of the Ballarat Fire Brigade, president of the Ballarat Horticultural Society, and a committeeman with the Royal South Street Society, to a member of the vestry at St Paul’s, it seemed that Harry Salmon was everywhere. This social consciousness, combined with his own charming personality all but guaranteed his children would view the world in a similar way.

When a poster and fancy dress ball was held at the Alfred Hall to raise funds for the Orphan Asylum, on 3 October 1901, Harry Salmon was chairman of the committee. Jack, Wiff and their sister, Marjory, took part in what was ‘probably the most picturesque scene ever witnessed in the hall.’ It was ‘a perfect kaleidoscope of colour.’

Wiff began his education at Ballarat College, where he joined his older brothers, Jack and Bob. Geoff followed soon after. However, the younger boys were eventually transferred to the Ballarat Grammar School, where their father was actively involved with the committee. Harry Salmon was involved with the school committee and was a familiar figure at school events. The boys did well at Grammar and both enjoyed running in the Schools and Clubs championships held on the City Oval. The Salmon name often figured during the annual prize distributions. None of the Salmon boys, however, showed any desire to pursue an academic life.

Early in 1910, suffering ‘rather indifferent health,’ Harry Salmon went to Queensland for a well-earned break. Although he returned seemingly rejuvenated, the underlying problem, kidney disease, was beyond the treatment then available. In spite of his illness, Harry pushed himself to continue the care of his patients. However, a sudden, dramatic relapse resulted in him being admitted to Nurse Beatrice Garbutt’s Private Hospital in Lyons Street south, where he received the best possible medical care. But it was to no avail and he died there at 4:30pm on 19 October 1910. He was just 49 years old.

An In Memoriam service was held at St Paul’s on 23 October to celebrate the life of Harry Salmon, with the church ‘crowded to the doors.’ His death at such a young age deprived Ballarat of one its finest and his loss was felt across the community. It is therefore not surprising that those who felt his passing the most were Alice and the children. Wiff had only just turned 16 and was at an age when a young man most looked to his father for guidance. It was a devastating blow.

Whilst Bob was to initially pursue a career in banking (he became a clerk with the English, Scottish and Australian Bank Ltd, which later merged with the ANZ), Jack was attracted to a life on the land. His uncle, Arthur Graham Salmon, the youngest of Harry Salmon’s brothers, was a grazier in Queensland. At that time, he was working the Taabinga Station near Kingaroy and it was there that Jack worked as the station overseer.

Now, Wiff also had an interest in farming and he began his working life on the Camperdown property owned by Mr Leslie Austin. He then gained a manager’s position at Barunah Plains, west of Geelong. Barunah Plains was a highly significant property, being at one time the largest sheep station in Victoria. It was also part of the large portfolio of properties then owned by the Russell family of Carngham Station.

When war was declared Bob Salmon became the first of four of Harry and Alice Salmon’s sons to join up. He enlisted in Melbourne on 21 August 1914 and had absolutely no trouble passing the medical. Initially he was deployed as a sapper with the Engineers, but was transferred to the 4th Light Horse on 9 February 1915. He served throughout the Gallipoli Campaign with this unit.

When Wiff enlisted at the Melbourne Town Hall on 12 July 1915, he was two months short of his 21st Birthday, so required his mother’s permission to join the AIF. '…This is to certify that I give my consent to my son…to volunteer for the Australian Expeditionary Forces. I being his only parent living, his father having died on October 19th 1910…'

Wiff had faced the doctor on 25 June 1915, and he was aware that the height requirement had been lowered. At 5-feet 3½-inches, he would not have passed previously. He weighed 10-stone and could expand his chest to 37-inches, which was quite impressive for such a small lad. The Salmon boys were all fair-haired and blue-eyed – except for Bob, whose hair was dark brown. Wiff was the fairest of them all. The doctor also noted an abdominal scar, which was most likely from an earlier appendectomy.

Jack was the next to volunteer. In September 1915, he went into Kingaroy to undergo the compulsory medical. Now, whilst Bob Salmon was measured at 5-feet 9, Jack barely met the minimum height requirement. At the beginning of the war, the AIF had set very high expectations on their recruits, with a height of 5-feet 6-inches being the pass mark. As recruitment levels dropped, so, too, did the expectations. By June 1915, the mark had been lowered to 5-feet 2-inches. Jack beat this by a mere quarter of an inch. Ballarat man, Joe Ludbrook, who had been working as a stockman at Taabinga, accompanied Jack back home to Victoria to formally enlist. Jack completed his paperwork at Albert Park on 5 October.

Geoff was the last of the quartet of brothers to join the AIF – he enlisted in Melbourne on 22 March 1916. He had been working as a farm hand on Burnbrae Station at Penshurst.

Due to living and working in an area too far from an established military unit, Wiff had been exempted from compulsory training. This, of course, meant he had little experience of the life he was about to embrace. For the first two months he was assigned to Depot Battalions based at Seymour. Then, on 23 September, he was posted as a driver with the 10th Battery of the 4th Field Artillery Brigade at Albert Park. His regimental number was 6413. He had been joined his brother, Jack, whose number was 6414.

The pair sailed from Melbourne on 18 November onboard HMAT Wiltshire. It proved to be a slow trip, and they did not reach Suez until 15 December.

Settling into camp outside Cairo, Wiff and Jack were soon reunited with Bob, who had spent seven long, unrelieved months on the Gallipoli Peninsula.
Wiff’s time in Egypt was marked by one significant occurrence: after being exposed to meningitis, he was admitted to the No2 Stationary Hospital at Tel-el-Kebir on 16 February 1916 as a ‘meningitis contact.’ Fortunately, he did not contract the dreaded disease and he was discharged to duty three days later.

The artillery units were amongst the first to cross over to France; Wiff and Jack sailed from Alexandria on 14 March. Bob, who had been transferred to the 57th Infantry Battalion and commissioned as a second-lieutenant, followed in June.

Before the attack at Fromelles on 19 July, Bob Salmon made the reconnaissance of the front. Throughout the battle he patrolled No Man’s Land, guiding parties out to wounded men under withering machine gun and rifle fire. His work was described as ‘magnificent,’ and earned him the Military Cross.

Bob was almost dismissive of the reasons for his award when he wrote home to his mother.

‘…I am still amongst the living and complete ones. Am now attached to the Brigade Head Quarters as one of the officers here from a slight wound. I don't like the idea of leaving my Battalion at all. so I hope to be back there soon. I got a Military Cross the other day, and was presented with the ribbon by the General commanding our army. He shook us by the hand, and congratulated us. There was first a service, afterwards the presentation. There were representatives of all the units in the division, and quite a crowd of officers there, numbering all told about 1000. All the distinctions won since the war were presented, and there was quite a little crowd of us too. I got mine for some work done last July. There was a bit of a song made about it, although it was really nothing much, but hence my M.C. l had charge of the parties bringing in the wounded, and we got quite a crowd in. Things are going on much in the same old way. We have had quite unpleasant weather here of late. There is a rumour abroad that Jack and Wilfred's division is not far from here. They may, being in the artillery, be able to get down to see me…’

According to Jack’s son, the late Brigadier John Salmon, ‘After the Somme, the brothers considered their future and that of their younger siblings and mother.’ They realised that being together there was a distinct likelihood that they could both be killed if their gun was hit. Wiff endeavoured to join the Australian Flying Corps, but there were no vacancies. Instead, he transferred to the Royal Flying Corps on 8 November. He joined the RFC Training Depot the following day.

On 26 January 1917, Wiff entered Brasemore College School of Military Aeronautics – the No3 Royal Flying School at Oxford. When he received his commission in the RFC on 16 March, he was formally discharged from the AIF. His discharge certificate noted that his conduct and character during one year and 248 days of service was ‘very good.’

According to those assessing Wiff’s flying capabilities, he proved to be a natural pilot and was one of the best to go through that particular course. There was, however, no apparent rush to push him through. By April he was flying with the No1 Reserve Squadron at the Fort Grange aerodrome at Gosport, which was then home to the School of Special Flying under the command of Major Robert Smith-Barry. The method of flight training devised by Smith-Barry was referred to as the “Gosford System” and proved so effective it was adopted worldwide.

Bombing of England by German aircraft had steadily increased during the war and had been adopted as a strategy to undermine the confidence of the British public. According to Admiral Alfred von Tirpitz, who was a firm advocate for the attacks, ‘…The measure of the success will lie not only in the injury which will be caused to the enemy but also in the significant effect it will have in diminishing the enemy's determination to prosecute the war…’ Even the German Kaiser showed some scruples when he initially vetoed bombing of London for fear of harming some of his relatives.

Although the random nature of the bombing resulted in significant civilian casualties, the attacks proved to have the opposite effect on the British. Recruitment campaigns trumpeted loudly that,
“It is far better to face the bullets than to be killed at home by a bomb. Join the Army at once & help to stop an air raid.”

Zeppelin airships were the largely the German’s mode of attack, but as aircraft became more sophisticated, long-range bombers began to take over from the incredibly unstable airships that were filled with highly flammable hydrogen gas.

The first daylight bombing raid on 5 June 1917, targeting the London docks, resulted in the deaths of 162 people, including 18 children who were killed when a bomb hit their school in Poplar.

‘…In the middle of the day Londoners heard the drone of flying machines, and looking up presently beheld a large force of aeroplanes, which, they took to be their own coming overhead. It was not until the crash of bombs was heard in the city that most people realised that this was a powerful enemy raid. The Germans set fire to part of the GPO, and inflicted a number of casualties on men, women and children, and returned home practically undisturbed…’

Wiff Salmon had been outraged! And frustrated. He begged his squadron commander to allow him to pursue the German bombers, but permission was refused. His OC reportedly told the young pilot that ‘if ever they came over again he would be allowed to go up.’

It was only a matter of time before the Germans returned.

By this time, Wiff was stationed with the 63 Reserve Squadron flying out of the Joyce Green airfield near Dartford in Kent. When in London, he boarded with Mrs A. J. McPherson at Kensington Mansion in Earl’s Court.

At this time Jack was training as a cadet at the Royal Artillery Cadet School in St John’s Wood. When Bob hurt his knee and was evacuated to England, the three brothers were reunited. It was a remarkable moment given the difficulties in aligning such an opportunity. They marked the occasion by having a portrait taken – it shows Jack wearing the shoulder cord of an artillery officer, Bob with the ribbon of his Military Cross and Wiff with his pilot’s wings.

It was widely reported that Wiff Salmon "got his wings" just three days before the second daylight raid over London, which helps to pinpoint the date of the photograph…

Harold Walker, a former schoolmate of Wiff’s from Ballarat College, was recovering from wounds at the 3rd Australian Auxiliary Hospital at Dartford and the pair were able to catch up around this time. Walker got the distinct impression that Wiff was ‘very keen on his work’ and used to ‘amuse the Australian boys looping the loop and doing fancy tricks in the air.’

Early on 7 July, another wave of German bombers hit London. The squadron of 22 twin-engined Gotha bombers were heavily armed – each aeroplane (with a crew of three or four men) was fitted with three machine-guns (capable of firing 400 rounds per minute) and carried fourteen 60-pound bombs. Their mission was to cause as much damage and terror as possible. The raid was over in a matter of minutes and the Germans flew for home seemingly unmolested, leaving some 350 casualties behind them.

That morning, Bob Salmon had received a letter from Wiff, in which he said, “When I do have a go at them, it will be either they or me.” Bob watched from the ground as a lone aircraft took on the might of the German Luftstreitkräfte.

It was Wiff Salmon.

The Germans had followed the Thames valley to navigate their way to the coast and were midway between Greenwich and Gravesend when the lone Sopwith Pup dived into their midst. Three times, Wiff flew through, firing his single machine-gun at the enemy, and breaking up their formation. Of course, he was vastly outnumbered and it was virtually a suicide mission. His aeroplane took a direct hit through the petrol tank; another bullet severed a control wire. Two further bullets caused lacerating wounds across his forehead.

Gamely controlling his “Pup,” Wiff tried to fly for home.
He nearly made it.

Just 300-feet from the airfield, it appeared that Wiff lost consciousness and the small plane crashed to earth. As people ran towards the wreckage, many still believed he would emerge relatively unscathed. Unfortunately, the savage impact had snapped his head backwards, fracturing his skull ‘from ear to ear.’
Hubert Williams, a discharged soldier from nearby Erith, was one of the first on the scene after seeing the machine fall. He was one of the men who helped lift Wiff Salmon out of the cockpit. Although still alive, the young pilot died within minutes.

Jack was immediately called to identify the body. He then sent a personal cable straight through to their mother, who received the news on 9 July. Sadly, just a week after Wiff’s death, his grandmother, Marianne Salmon, also died. Although she had been an invalid for some time, ‘news of the death of the young officer hastened her end, as she was much attached to him.’
A post-mortem was conducted on Wiff’s body by Major Glen Knight, Royal Army Medical Corps, and he confirmed that the cause of death was a fractured skull. He was one of the expert witnesses called to testify at the inquest. The damage to the Sopwith Pup was also covered and it was revealed that the petrol tank was empty and that Wiff had fired 55-rounds of ammunition.

Major Knight believed that ‘if Salmon could have retained consciousness he could have landed safely.’
In handing down his finding, the coroner said ‘there was no doubt this was another case of a life sacrificed for the country.’ The verdict was: ‘Death from fracture of the skull received by the fall to the ground, and from lacerated wounds received in combat with German aeroplanes.’

Wiff Salmon’s funeral was a very sombre affair. His body lay in state at the Dartford Parish Church Hall on the night before the service and was viewed by hundreds of people. Members of Parliament and the local council, his comrades from the Royal Flying Corps and many patients from the nearby hospital attended the funeral, which was conducted by Captain-Chaplain William Ashley-Brown (from Gosford, New South Wales). The coffin was then placed on a gun carriage and draped with a Union Jack, to be drawn by six horses through the streets of Dartford. An Australian unit band headed the procession, filing past thousands of people who lined the way. Such was the import of the occasion, local businesses suspended trade during the funeral.

The service was completed with full military honours at the Dartford Cemetery in Watling Street.
News of Wiff Salmon’s daring and doomed exploit spread across the globe. Tributes were penned by a variety of people, the most telling coming from those who knew him best.

In September, the Mayor of the City of Ballarat, the Honourable Alexander Bell, M.L.C., received a letter from Lieutenant Thomas W. Kerr, of the RFC.
‘…On behalf of my Australian pilot comrades in this squadron, and myself, I would deem it a great kindness if you would convey to the relatives and friends of the late Lt Wilfred Salmon, R.F.C., our deepest and heartfelt sympathy in their sad bereavement. He was splendid fellow, a brave airman, and a worthy representative of our great Commonwealth. He is the first Australian aviator to give his life in the defence of London, and by his great bravery and devotion to duty has set a mighty standard to other Australian airmen in this corps. After being himself shot and his tank pierced at about 14,000 feet, he managed to bring his machine back to within 300 feet of the aerodrome, when, it is supposed, he lost consciousness and crashed to earth…’

Jack Salmon later wrote,
‘…He climbed to about 16,000 ft. and cruised about waiting for them. When they came along and started to drop bombs on London Wiff went straight through them three times. Of course, he hadn't a hope, and he must have known it perfectly well, but you can imagine, he wouldn't consider the consequences when the Huns were killing women and children in London. His petrol tank was shot through and his machine was hit in several places, and he was badly wounded in the head. Even then he got back to his aerodrome 17 miles away and within several hundred feet of the ground, when be lost consciousness and his machine crashed to the ground. He was still alive when lifted out of the machine, but died immediately afterwards. The Huns' planes were of the Gotha type and each one carried three men and four machine guns, while our grand boy was in a little Sopwith Pup (fighter) by himself with only one gun…’

Newton Wanliss (father of Ballarat’s Harold Boyd Wanliss (q.v.) who was in England at the time) also paid homage to Wiff Salmon.

‘…They considered him a very competent pilot. He must have had the heart of a lion. Most men in battle have the magnetic stimulus of companionship. He attacked the whole German aerial squadron single-handed, not only unaccompanied by any other aeroplane, but going up alone, without even an observer in his machine After charging through them and scattering their formation he was brought down. He must have been the focus of a fearful fire. It was an act of supreme self-sacrifice made in the face of fearful odds. It was an attack made single-handed upon, a victorious, triumphant, and overwhelming enemy. It might not unfairly be described as one of the most gallant actions of the war, and deserving of the distinction of the V.C. Ballarat has sent a magnificent body of heroes into the war. Few cities of its size in the whole wide-flung British Empire have established such a record. Its dead heroes are now numbered by hundreds. Some, like Alick White, have fallen leading a forlorn hope against awful odds; others have fallen in the deadly breach, delivering or repelling attacks. But among all those dead heroes this much may be said of Wilfred Graham Salmon, that though their number has been many and their valour has been great, "None fell with more glory, yet many fell and there was much glory." Let those inspiring words of Napier be his epitaph…’

Wiff Salmon was eulogised by the Venerable Archdeacon William Tucker during a speech to the Royal Society of St George, held in the Chapter House of the Christ Church Cathedral on 18 September.
‘…Let us remember one tonight, born and bred in Ballarat, inheritor of a name gently honoured here. When Flight-Lieutenant Wilfred Salmon died in the defence of London against German air raiders a new thing happened in the world. For eight centuries and a half London had been immune from foreign assault, but man's conquest of the air, upon whose wings he now goes flying over land and sea, has put at end to this long security. But God has given to London a new defence. When her citizens 850 years ago watched across their wall the march of the mail-clad knights of William the Norman, no prophet told them how a little island race of Englishmen would so expand and make itself many homes in lands of whom no man had yet dreamt; that when eight centuries and a half later their city was again attacked by a foreign foe there would come from the ends of the earth a boy of English blood and speech, yet not born in England, to defend with his life the ancient mother city of his race. It is one of the miracles of history, meaning very much for the future of the world. It will be told of in classroom and lecture hall; historians will write of it; poets will sing of it; for it is part of the romance of history…’

Indeed, in many forums Wiff Salmon was hailed as the first to die in the defence of London since the time of William the Conqueror.

There was also a rather macabre addition to the story. Whether from a sense of history or morbid fascination, several munitions workers had helped themselves to items of Wiff’s equipment and parts of his damaged machine. His safety belt, which would have been removed when he was pulled from the wreckage, was taken by Beatrice Law. William Palmer and Sidney Williams had possession of his gloves, which, disturbingly, had been removed from the pilot’s body. Dorothy Law was found to have taken his goggles. Edith Glenister, Ada Rogers, Gilbert Williams, and Sarah Christwell, were also brought up on charges of looting. Their defence was ‘they thought they were committing no offence in taking things “out of curiosity.”’

Each was fined a pound. Given the wages paid to munitions workers(£6 to £20 a week), this was little more than a slap on the wrist.

The story of Wiff Salmon continued to have relevance for those story-tellers of the Great War. In 1926, Australia’s Official War Correspondent, C. E. W. Bean, wrote his first “Vignettes of the Elder Brothers,” titled Gallantry in the Air.

'…A struggle between animals tends to result in a survival of the fittest; so does a struggle between trees, shrubs, and grasses. A struggle between them, if waged all over the world to the bitter end, would, from the point of view of the ethnologist, probably result in the survival of the fittest race — a tribe of super sewer rats. For there is not any doubt that in a modern war, even if the fittest survive, the best are killed.

By far the greatest loss sustained by Australia in the Great War was that of thousands upon thousands of her finest leaders. The material loss — possibly £500,000,000 — we could make good by doing the equivalent of an extra year's work in each of our life times; but, though this young country cries for men with the qualities of leadership — men of the type that will answer any public call, and fling themselves with chivalrous and irresistible spirit into local or national work — nothing can bring back those lost leaders. Yet there is one way of repairing it. If the memory of those men can be kept green throughout Australia there may spring from it, in the younger generation at least, the same qualities which made these men leaders in the one which went before it; and Australia may be actually the richer, and not the poorer, by reason of their loss.

It is as a slight contribution towards that end that these vignettes of a few of the Elder Brethren (who were known either personally or by repute to the writer) are painted.

The first is a very short story — that of a mere boy, and of his response to a sudden call. Wilfred Graham Salmon, son of a Ballarat doctor and educated at Ballarat College and Church of England Grammar School, joined the A.I.F. at the age of 19, and went with it to Egypt; but soon afterwards, obtaining a chance of a commission in the British Flying Corps, went to England (as did 200 other Australians) to be trained as a pilot.

It was while he was with a training squadron near London that the Germans made their two great daylight bombing raids. In the middle of the day Londoners heard the drone of flying machines, and looking up presently beheld a large force of aeroplanes, which, they took to be their own coming overhead. It was not until the crash of bombs was heard in the city that most people realised that this was a powerful enemy raid. The Germans set fire to part of the GPO, and inflicted a number of casualties on men, women and children, and returned home practically undisturbed.

A little more than a week later they made a second raid in force. A good many spectators observed on this occasion that a tiny aeroplane at one time mingled among the large machines, and then detached itself and disappeared in another direction. It was young Salmon, the Australian trainee.
On the previous occasion, when the huge German force came over, he had begged his squadron commander to allow him to go up, but permission had been refused. His O.C. told him, however, that if ever they came over again he would be allowed to go up. Wilfred wrote to his brother Bob: "When I do have a go at them, it will be either they or me.”

Bob, who happened to be in London on leave, received the letter on the day when the Germans made their second raid and saw the speck go singly. without any help for miles around, straight into the thick of the great bombers. "Wilfred had fired 55 shots when his petrol tank was shot through, and he received two wounds in the head, one of which broke his skull. He was able to turn his plane towards its aerodrome; those waiting there saw him returning and were expecting him to alight when, within hail of his home ground, he died, or probably fainted from loss of blood, and his machine crashed. He was picked up dead.

Not one of the 50 of the Londoners who saw the incident ever heard the story of it…’

Wiff’s brothers all returned home at the end of the war – Jack minus his right arm, which was severed at the shoulder by shrapnel less than six weeks before the end of the war. Bob Salmon had served out the war working as staff captain (intelligence officer) to Brigadier H. E. “Pompey” Elliott. His observations of General William Birdwood (in an anecdote retold to me by his nephew, John Salmon), where bitingly acute. As Birdwood had passed along a long line of men, shaking their hands, he turned to Bob and asked him the name of one officer who he had forgotten. On reaching the man, he warmly shook his hand and spoke to him like he was a dear old friend. It was incidents like this that earned Birdwood the nickname, “Bullshit Birdy.”

The story of Wiff Salmon has had a lasting impact on me. When I did my first trip to the European war graves in 2002, I made a special point of visiting his grave at Dartford. It was not the experience I had expected. The attitude of the staff in the cemetery office was less than welcoming, but the state of the grave was incredibly sad. Overgrown with weeds, it looked forlorn and forgotten. Even after pulling away as much as I could by hand, it still looked less than the grave of a hero. At least by leaving a small posy of red poppies it showed that someone remembered this remarkable young man.