Robert Benoist: the bravest of the brave

Benoist’s ability was complemented by that of Albert Lory, the ex-Salrnson designer whose supercharged 1.5-litre straight-eight endowed Louis Delage’s low-slung racers with 170bhp at 8000rpm. The only drawback in 1926 was that the exhaust system turned the cockpit into a fume-filled, foot-frying furnace. In 1927, after Lory modified his jewel of an engine, Benoist was proclaimed world champion after winning every race he entered, notably the Grands Prix staged at Montlhery, San Sebastian, Monza and Brooklands.

Delage’s decision to stop racing ended Benoist’s career as a fully fledged works pilot, but those were times when good men could get competitive drives on a relatively casual basis. His later outings included tackling Le Mans in a Chrysler and an Itala, winning the 1929 Spa 24-hour race in an Alfa Romeo, several Grands Prix at the wheel of a Type 59 Bugatti, record-breaking runs at Montlhery and the Le Mans victory, at record-breaking speed, which achieved a great personal ambition as well as ending his career on the highest of notes.

The quest for reliable information about his wartime adventures revealed two enthralling books, Special Operations Executive 1940-46 and SOE in France. Their author, MRD Foot, told me Benoist’s SOE file had survived in the depths of Whitehall. I would not be allowed to examine it myself, he explained, but could ask questions. Much of what follows is based on answers to those questions.

Benoist was working for Bugatti in Paris in September 1939 when Germany invaded Poland detonating the Second World War. He was recalled to the colours but, considered too old to fly, twiddled his thumbs until the eight-month lull before the storm ended. Using blitzkrieg tactics, epitomised by fast moving tanks and screaming dive bombers, Hitler’s spearhead thrust across France in a few days, driving the British Expeditionary Force home from Dunkirk.

Determined to escape, Benoist headed south in a Type 57S Bugatti, and, according to one account, was in Poitiers when his rakish car caught a German officer’s eye and was herded into a convoy. Next morning, the Frenchman decided his moment had come when the column reached a junction, out in the country. Convinced he could drive faster than the surprised Germans could shoot, Benoist floored the throttle, turned off the main road and drove as if his life was at stake. Which it was.

Two survivors were with him when their truck was stopped by a policeman in Chartres. Deciding to take them to his headquarters, he lifted his bicycle into the back of the truck and would have climbed in after had Benoist not suggested he travel in comfort alongside the driver. Benoist volunteered to ride in the back, from which he soon jumped.

SOE flew ‘Daniel Perdridge’ back to France on 2 March 1944. His brief was to destroy the electricity pylons, then listen for coded instructions about other targets. For instance, the railways were to be attacked when the BBC broadcast, in French: “It was the sergeant who smoked his pipe in open country”.

At the end of May his wireless operator, Denise Bloch, called London to say Operation Clergyman’s leader was ready to attack the objectives. Benoist also reported contacting 2000 members of the French Forces of the Interior near Rambouillet, while a further 10,000 were awaiting orders to the north of Paris.

With D-Day making the Germans more resolved than ever to crush French opposition, many of Benoist’s comrades were arrested on 15 June. Three days later, Benoist was caught after travelling to Paris to visit his dying mother. We do not know who betrayed him, but suspects include his brother, Marcel. The Gestapo tried to arrest Jean-Pierre Wimille, who jumped from a window and hid in a stream. Denise Bloch was sent to Ravensbruck and shot. About 75,000 of the French who died in death camps “belonged to one resistance movement or another”, according to SOE in France.

Benoist was tortured at Gestapo headquarters in the Avenue Foch, then taken to the concentration camp at Buchenwald. Almost 60,000 people were found alive in this nightmarish place when it was liberated in April 1945, but Captain Robert Marcel Benoist was not among them. He had been hung by the neck from a piano wire on 14 September 1944.

My favourite Benoist anecdote epitomises the man’s coolness and courage, and may be true because his SOE file makes reference to the incident. He had reached the last of those Parisian rooftops when he noticed an open door and a stairway; at the foot of the stairs he saw the concierge, club in hand. “I am not a housebreaker,” he said quickly. “No,” said the concierge, “but I believe you are a Robert Benoist. Come to my room and have a drink.” They had their drink, exchanged memories, then the concierge explored the streets, found them to be safe and Benoist was sent on his way.

He was the bravest of the brave.