Obituaries

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Squadron Leader Bill Humphrey :salute:

Squadron Leader Bill Humphrey, who has died aged 86, was a wartime Pathfinder and led the first air attack on the German defences in Normandy on D-Day; in all he completed three operational tours, flying 103 missions and twice winning the DFC.
In the early hours of D-Day Humphrey's target was the coastal battery at Crisbeq, one of many such batteries on the Cherbourg peninsula posing a major threat to the invasion forces at sea. He was followed by waves of heavy bombers, and all but one of the guns was put out of action. He recorded laconically in his logbook: "Ops. Crisbeq – Dropped first TI [target indicator] on night the second front started."

Humphrey's first operation with No 105 Squadron had been on February 18 1943, in a daring 20-aircraft low-level daylight raid. The target on that occasion had been the locomotive repair workshops in Tours.
The group crossed the Channel at 50ft, flying blind for 10 minutes through sea mist before emerging into bright sunshine at the French coast. They streamed over three flak towers, catching the German gunners napping.

The Mosquitoes then attacked in three formations, destroying the workshops. Humphrey later recalled: "All three formations hit their respective targets well and truly, and we shook up Tours thoroughly."

Humphrey and his navigator attacked trains and rail depots throughout the spring of 1943, sometimes dropping 30-minute delayed-action bombs on their targets from low-level.

In July, following the invention of Oboe at the Telecommunications Research Establishment at Great Malvern, No 105 Squadron took on a new role.

The Oboe system identified a target by the transmission of a radio beam from ground emitters located on the east coast; specially-equipped Mosquitoes flew along the beam to the target before dropping markers and flares for the main bomber force. As Humphrey put it: "Low-level had been extremely dangerous, but not very frightening as one was working so hard. Oboe was terrifying, flying dead straight and level along a beam and letting them shoot at you."

For defence, the Mosquito relied on speed and manoeuvrability, and Humphrey's method of escape after marking the target was to climb above the flak and the enemy fighters. But this was not foolproof. His aircraft was hit on a number of occasions, and once – after his hydraulics and undercarriage had been damaged – he had to make a belly landing on reaching home.

On another raid he was hit by flak, which left shrapnel lodged in his foot but still succeeded in recovering from a spin and pressed on to his target, marking it accurately. He was awarded a DFC for his "courage and determination".

On a later mission his navigator was killed by shrapnel; one of the aircraft's engines was put out of action, and Humphrey had to nurse his Mosquito home on the remaining engine to make an emergency landing at an American base.

William Ernest Gifford Humphrey was born on February 13 1923 in Karachi, where his father was a shipping broker. He was educated at Bradfield College, Berkshire, where he became head boy.

Aged 17 he tried to follow his elder brother into the RAF, but was told to return later, which he did after six months' studying at St Catharine's College, Cambridge. He was sent for training in Texas and in early 1943 was posted to No 105 Squadron at Marham, Norfolk.

After completing his second tour, Humphrey was awarded a Bar to his DFC and spent six months helping with the development of Oboe and flying test runs. He returned to operational flying in January 1945, joining No 128 Squadron at Wyton. He flew 11 operations to Berlin, as well as others to Magdeburg, Erfurt, Wesel and Kiel. He then declined offers of a postwar career in the RAF – unlike his brother Andrew, who became a Marshal of the RAF and was to die in 1977 whilst serving as Chief of the Defence Staff.

Bill did not expect to survive the war, and never ceased to marvel at his luck. Decades later, thinking of his comrades who had been lost, he would privately confess to being almost embarrassed by his survival. "One was robbed of one's youth and one's friends," he said once. "Living through a period like that affects the rest of your life. It makes you question what many people automatically accept as fact. I suppose it makes you a bit of a rebel."

It certainly made him something of a misfit in an increasingly bureaucratic postwar world, and he developed a "can-do", "why not?" approach to obstacles he encountered during his management career with Burmah-Shell in India, where he witnessed the bloody consequences of Partition.

When he was struck by amoebic dysentery in the subcontinent, Shell moved him to Syria, then to Bermuda. In 1966 he joined the glass-makers Pilkington to run its fibreglass operations in India, but illness forced him to return to Britain.

He left the commercial world to "put something back". In particular, he wanted to try to alleviate unemployment, and for a time he ran the Elephant Jobs training workshop for young offenders in London.

In 1978, with the help of his former employers Pilkington, he set up the Community of St Helens Trust in Lancashire.

Humphrey's philosophy was not to provide work for people but to help them to provide it for themselves. This required a fundamental shift in the accepted wisdom of the time, as small businesses during the 1970s struggled against powerful trades unions. "We have to change the way people think," Humphrey said.

He set up the trust in an old grammar school classroom opposite Pilkington's main gate, using discarded office furniture. The roof leaked, but he refused to have it repaired, using buckets to catch the raindrops – a useful indication of financial need when potential donors came to call.

Appointed OBE in 1981, Humphrey is credited with contributing to an increase in the number of new small businesses in St Helens, and with giving life to the enterprise agency, forerunner of today's Business Links. Similar agencies sprang up all over Britain, encouraged by Michael Heseltine, who saw their potential on a visit to St Helens in 1980.

Bill Humphrey, who died on December 10, is survived by his wife, Pauline, and a son.
 
Wing Commander Bob Doe, who died on February 21 aged 89, was the joint-third most successful fighter pilot in the Battle of Britain, credited with 14 victories and two shared.

Yet Doe had struggled to become a pilot, barely passing the necessary exams to gain his wings. He lacked confidence, was poor at aerobatics and disliked flying upside down – not an auspicious beginning for a fighter pilot.
On August 15 1940 – dubbed Adler Tag (Eagle Day) by Hermann Goering, the day he claimed he would destroy Fighter Command – the 20-year-old Doe was on standby with his Spitfire as part of No 234 Squadron at Middle Wallop, Hampshire, waiting for his first scramble. Years later he recalled: "I knew I was going to be killed. I was the worst pilot on the squadron."
When the scramble bell rang, Doe was filled with dread but he took off; the fear of being thought a coward was more powerful than the fear of death.

One hour later Doe landed to find that four of his colleagues had failed to return; but he had shot down two Messerschmitt Bf 110 fighters south of Swanage. The next day he destroyed a Bf 109 fighter and damaged a bomber; and two days after that he accounted for another Bf 109.

The Battle intensified, and Doe's outstanding memory was to be of continued tiredness, which produced the ability to sleep anytime and anywhere.

By the end of August he had destroyed five aircraft. On September 4 his squadron intercepted a large force of Bf 110s over the south coast near Chichester.

Doe shot down three and the following day accounted for a Bf 109 over Kent. More successes followed, including shooting down a Heinkel bomber. But by September 7, just three weeks after it had arrived at Middle Wallop, the squadron's 15 pilots had been reduced to just three.

Doe was rested for a short period before joining No 238 Squadron as a flight commander, this time flying the Hurricane. On September 30 he claimed another Heinkel bomber after a head-on attack, but by this time the Luftwaffe was sending most bombers over at night and the intensity of the day fighting reduced.

He shot down a Bf 110 on October 1 and seven days later claimed his final victory on what turned out to be the last major daylight bombing raid of the Battle, when he shot down a Junkers 88 bomber near Portland.

At the beginning of October Doe learnt that he had been awarded a DFC "for his outstanding dash and an eagerness to engage the enemy at close quarters". This "dash" almost proved his undoing a few days later. As he cleared some cloud his aircraft was hit repeatedly and he was badly wounded in the leg, lower back and arm. He bailed out and landed in a sewage drainage pit on Brownsea Island. It was his last action during the Battle.

In just eight weeks he had risen from being his squadron's junior pilot to a flight commander with at least 14 victories. A few weeks later he was awarded a Bar to his DFC.

The son of a head gardener, Robert Francis Thomas Doe was born at Reigate on March 10 1920. A shy, sickly boy, he left school at 14 to work as an office boy at the News of the World. He was one of the first young men to apply to the RAFVR and started to train as a pilot at a civilian flying school. He gained a short service commission in the RAF in March 1939.

After recovering from his wounds, Doe rejoined No 238 in December 1940. On January 3 1941 his aircraft suffered an engine failure on a night sortie and he made a forced landing. His restraining harness broke and he smashed his face into the gunsight. One eyeball had fallen out, his jaw was broken and his nose almost severed; he also broke his arm.

After 22 operations at East Grinstead Hospital he earned his place as a member of the Guinea Pig Club (for patients of novel surgical techniques), and he was able to resume operational flying within four months of his crash. A series of training posts followed at a fighter school, and in October 1943 he volunteered for service in India.

Two months later he formed No 10 Squadron, Indian Air Force, at Risalpur in the North-West Frontier Province, the last Indian Air Force squadron to be formed during the war. He arrived to find 27 pilots, most of them Indian, about 1,400 men and 16 Hurricanes. The rest was up to him.

They flew Hurricane IICs, known as "Hurri-bombers", armed with four 20mm cannon and two 500lb bombs. Doe worked his squadron hard, and once it was declared operational it moved to Burma to fly ground support missions in support of the Fourteenth Army's operations in the Arakan and the Kaladan Valley. After a particularly successful raid led by Doe in support of an amphibious landing, No 10 received a commendation from the commander of the Arakan Group.

Doe's Indian squadron flew intensively, attacking ground targets that were sometimes just a few hundred yards ahead of friendly troops, as General Slim began his southern advance into Burma and towards Rangoon. In April 1945 Doe left the squadron to attend the staff college at Quetta. For his service with the Indian Air Force he was awarded a DSO for his "inspiring leadership and unconquerable spirit and great devotion to duty". At the end of the war he was given the job of running the air display for Indian Victory Week.

Doe remained in the RAF and, after appointments with the Royal Auxiliary Air Force, was sent to Egypt in May 1950 to command No 32 Squadron, equipped with Vampire jet fighters. He had never flown a jet before, so on his way to the squadron he managed to stop off at a maintenance unit and borrow a Vampire for a few hours to familiarise himself. By the time he left in May 1953, No 32 had built up a reputation for esprit de corps envied by all the other RAF and Army units on the base.

He returned to Britain to join the Fighter Gunnery Wing as a senior instructor. A series of staff appointments followed, including two years with the Chiefs of Staff Secretariat. This placed him in the corridors of power, and the boy who had left school at 14 had to learn how to write minutes which would be scrutinised and reworded by secretaries and read by the chiefs. Doe found this job to be the most difficult and challenging appointment of his career. In April 1966 he opted for premature retirement.

Doe settled in Tunbridge Wells, where he joined a family-owned garage business before moving on to Rusthall, Kent, to establish his own very successful garage and contract hire and self-drive car company. He took a passionate interest in his garden and three greenhouses, and in his large family.
Much-admired but always modest, Doe never considered himself a hero, saying that he had been "just doing my duty". But he did write about his wartime experiences in Bob Doe, Fighter Pilot, published in 1989.
Bob Doe is survived by his third wife, Betty, and by five children and three stepchildren.
telegraph.co.uk news military-obituaries /air-force-obituaries

:salute::salute::salute:
 
Kermit Tyler - Officer who dismissed reports of incoming planes on Dec. 7, 1941, dies.

American pilot who dismissed initial reports of what turned out to be the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor has died at age 96.

Kermit Tyler was the Army Air Forces' first lieutenant on temporary duty at Ft. Shafter's radar information center in Hawaii on Dec. 7, 1941, when two privates reported seeing an unusually large blip on their radar screen, indicating a large number of aircraft about 132 miles away and fast approaching.

"Don't worry about it," Tyler famously replied, thinking it was a flight of U.S. B-17 bombers that was due in from the mainland.

The aircraft were the first wave of more than 180 Japanese fighters, torpedo bombers, dive bombers and horizontal bombers whose surprise attack on Pearl Harbor shortly before 8 a.m. plunged the United States into World War II.

Many questioned his decision for years, and the 1970 movie "Tora! Tora! Tora!" portrayed him in an unflattering light. Audiences watching a documentary at the Pearl Harbor Visitors Center theater still groan when they hear Tyler's response to the radar report.

Daniel Martinez, Pearl Harbor historian for the National Park Service, said Tyler's role was misunderstood and that congressional committees and military inquiries that looked into what happened at Pearl Harbor did not find him at fault. He said a flight of B-17s flying in from Hamilton Field north of San Francisco was indeed due to land at Hickam Field.

"Kermit Tyler took the brunt of the criticism, but that was practically his first night on the job, and he was told that if music was playing on the radio all night, it meant the B-17s were coming in," Martinez said

The music played all night so the B-17 pilots could home in on the signal, and when he heard the music as he was driving to work, Tyler figured the aircraft would be coming in soon.

"I wake up at nights sometimes and think about it," Tyler said in a 2007 interview with the Star-Ledger of Newark, N.J. "But I don't feel guilty. I did all I could that morning."

Tyler, who suffered two strokes within the last two years, died Jan. 23 at his home in San Diego, said his daughter Julie Jones.

After Pearl Harbor, Tyler flew combat missions in the Pacific. He retired from the Air Force as a lieutenant colonel in 1961, launched a career in real estate, and was a landlord.

Tyler is survived by three children. He was preceded in death by his wife, Marian, and a son.

R.I.P.
 

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