The cathedral city of Le Mans in north-west France had been to the forefront of European motor racing since staging the inaugural French Grand Prix in 1906, on a circuit to the east of the city. Between 1911 and 1913 the Grand Prix de France (an event not to be confused with the French Grand Prix) was held on a long, triangular circuit to the south of Le Mans and after the war sections of this route were incorporated in a new 10¾ mile (17.3km) layout. This track, which consisted of public roads including part of Route Nationale 158 (the main Le Mans-Tours highway), provided a splendid setting for the 1921 French Grand Prix and encouraged thoughts of a long-distance race to demonstrate the reliability of touring cars. The Bol d’Or 24-hour race for light cars had been held at St Germain, near Paris, in 1922, proving that it was possible to stage night races other than in floodlit stadiums. And so in 1923 the Le Mans 24-Hour Race was born.
For the 1927 event, the British challenge was spearheaded by three big green Bentleys whose noisy exhausts shook the surrounding French countryside. Bentley had won in 1924 and had come so close two years later, only for S.C.H. (Sammy) Davis to drive the car into a sandbank when trying to regain second spot with just half an hour remaining. Given a lift back to the pits, he was faced with the unwelcome task of reporting the mishap to W.O. Bentley. Davis later wrote: ‘I went for a long walk alone, and wished I was dead.’ But Davis was back in the same 3-litre car – the famous ‘Old No. 7’ – and was joined in the team by Leslie Callingham (in a powerful 4.5-litre model) and George Duller. Only 22 cars lined up for the start, partly because tougher regulations regarding refuelling had deterred the leading French teams of La Lorraine and Chenard-Walcker from taking part, and also because the entire Tracta team had gone joy-riding the night before, resulting in a crash which put most of them in hospital. One of the team who was passed fit, Grégoire, was conspicuous for two reasons: his Tracta was the first front-drive car ever to appear in a competition, and he drove with a huge bandage around his head, a legacy of the inadvisable night out.
Four o’clock sharp saw the traditional Le Mans start (introduced in 1925) whereby the drivers ran across the track to their cars. Those whose vehicles possessed convertible tops had the added chore of having to raise the hood before driving off. As expected, Callingham’s monster Bentley set the pace and was comfortably ahead of his two team-mates when, an hour after dusk, a single crash at White House took out the entire Bentley team.
Callingham came roaring into the corner at over 70mph (112.6km/h) to find a Schneider broadside across the track. Unable to avoid it, he crashed into it, spun and rolled across the road into a ditch on the far side. Seconds later, Duller, who was two laps behind, appeared on the scene. A noted amateur steeplechase jockey, he chose to jump for his life when he saw what was about to happen. He managed to avoid the Schneider but smashed into Callingham’s car. Davis, in the third Bentley, had deliberately dropped back a little as darkness fell to avoid dazzling Duller with his headlights. He saw Duller’s car ahead rush down the hill, jump the bridge and disappear round the bend. Davis wrote: ‘As I swung around that right hand turn, on the road was a scatter of earth, a piece or two of splintered wood. The thing flashed an immediate warning … but even then it did not occur to me to do more than slow down a little and be ready. The car swung round White House Corner almost at full speed. I jammed down the brake pedal, tried to spin the wheel and skidded broadside on, for, white and horrible in the headlights’ beam, an appalling tangle of smashed cars appeared right across the road in front! With the rending crash of riven metal, we slid right into the mess, with a shock that threw me hard against the wheel. All the lights went out.’ As Davis clambered out, he saw that the ‘mess’ was one Bentley on its side with the other on top of it. The three Bentley drivers, dazed but otherwise unhurt, stood there momentarily in the finest British stiff upper-lip tradition discussing the best course of action. The cars of Callingham and Duller were beyond redemption but Davis managed to extricate his machine from the tangled heap of metal and limp back to the pits. Moments after he had left White House, another car ploughed into the wreckage.
The damage to Davis’s car included a bent front axle and frame, a smashed mudguard and running board, and a broken headlight. By the time a wheel had been replaced, a new headlamp had been fitted, the battery box had been secured firmly and the running board had been strapped up, half an hour had elapsed. With co-driver Dr Dudley Benjafield at the wheel, the patched-up Bentley set off in pursuit of the new leading car, the 3-litre Aries of Jean Chassagne and Laly. In pouring rain, Benjafield made considerable inroads, gaining a whole lap. But at 2.30 on the Sunday afternoon – with just 90 minutes to go – the Bentley was still a lap behind when ‘Doc’ Benjafield spotted the Aries stopped at the side of the road near Mulsanne. The following lap it was still there. The Aries was out of the race with fuel pump failure. Incredibly, magically, the battered Bentley was in the lead. And there it stayed, Davis bringing it home – mudguards flapping in the wind – to a memorable triumph by 217 miles (349.2km). Only seven cars finished. After the winners had been deluged with flowers and soaked in champagne, Davis discovered that the link arm to the steering had all but sheared through and that a mere ¼in (0.6cm) of damaged metal had stood between victory and tragedy. For had the link arm parted at 90mph (144.8km/h), the driver would almost certainly have been killed.
The Bentley legend was confirmed at the celebration dinner at London’s Savoy Hotel. With a straight face, chairman Sir Edward Iliffe rose to announce that a lady who was entitled to be at the dinner was waiting outside, and invited her to enter. The folding doors were swung back and, with her one headlamp blazing, No. 7 roared into the room for the grandest of entrances. The only people not amused were the Savoy management who had reacted in horror to the sight of the famous Bentley Boys manhandling the old lady up the hotel stairs!