19. All This and World War Too

Robert Francis Thomas Doe was born March 10, 1920 in Surrey, England, just 16 months after WWI ended. In 1914, when the “War to End All Wars” began, the population of Great Britain and Ireland was 46,089,249. By the time of the next official census in 1921 the population was only 42,769,196; reflecting the 3,190,235 causalities suffered. The ensuing drain on manpower, material and manufacturing pulled England deep into the post-war doldrums.

“I had to leave school when I was fourteen.” Bob Doe conceded. “Jobs didn’t exist in England in the 1930’s. This was the time of the big depression.”

He had no way of knowing it then, but his humble beginnings, and the social class into which he was born, would have profound changes on the British military in general and the RAF in particular; and all within one, very short, and short-lived, generation.

“…. It wasn’t a rich background. My dad was just an ordinary gardener. And he worked for a man who owned a business in London… and when I had to leave school at Christmas… he went to his boss and said, could he find me a job in his business. He owned a newspaper. A very famous newspaper.”

That newspaper was, the News of the World. It outsold the other papers by almost 10 to 1, making it by far the biggest tabloid in England. Interestingly, Heinz Medefind, a German journalist, and all around good Nazi, had worked in London for five years before fleeing to Germany in 1939. Upon returning to the Fatherland he wrote of his experiences with the English press. He noted that the Times, “…. has the lowest circulation of about 200,000, due to its academic style that only a limited part of the population can understand.” Of the largest of the papers he commented, “The News of the World has the lowest intellectual level, but its circulation of 3 3/4 million is the highest.”

“I got a job of an office boy.” He said this with such clarity and glee it was as if he had just gotten the job.

Bob Doe was almost 15-years old. The British economy had sputtered and failed. As Prime Minister, James Ramsey MacDonald was out, and Stanley Baldwin was back in. Baldwin had previously served as PM from 1924 -1929 but lost the ’29 election to the Labour party’s MacDonald, who would serve from 1929 to 1935 before losing the post back to Baldwin and the Conservatives. Confused? Imagine the British electorates. I bring this rather dry detail to light because it was during this crucial time that the world stage was being re-dressed. The British government’s attitude toward their military was, by and large, “We have the greatest Navy in the world… what’s to worry? And don’t forget that the French have the Maginot Line.” Besides, there was the League of Nations*; founded to prevent future wars by embracing a policy of tolerance and negotiated settlement between nations. How’d that work out?

* Did You Know? Quiz time boys and girls. Who proposed the formation of the League of Nations? That’s right. U.S. President Woodrow Wilson, as part of his Fourteen Points speech and the adoption of the Treaty of Versailles. Ironically, Congress voted against joining the League of Nations, which began a period of U.S. Isolationism. Hitler came to power in 1933, and began rearming Germany.

“But wait” You say. “Didn’t that violate the terms of the Versailles Treaty?” That’s right, little Johnny. Hitler ignored the treaty. Can anyone tell me what else did Hitler did? “He took over the Sudetenland from Czechoslovakia?” Very good Becky. You see, in 1938 Neville Chamberlain was now the Prime Minister and he flew to Munich to meet with Herr Hitler, Benito Mussolini and Édouard Daladier (of France). They agreed to take the Sudetenland away from Czechoslovakia and give it to Germany in hopes of appeasing Hitler and staving off another world war. How’d that work out for them?

My good friends, for the second time in our history, a British Prime Minister has returned from Germany bringing peace with honour. I believe it is peace for our time. Neville Chamberlain - Heston Airport, London. September 1938.

“But I’m confused. What did the Czech President Edvard Benes˙ think about this Munich Agreement?” Well you might well ask, Keeshana. Unfortunately no one asked him. Chamberlain and Daladier made the decision on their own. Benes later resigned before the German invaded and he went into exile in England with his family. His daughter eventually made her way to America where she married and ended up being John Grantham’s 1st grade teacher. See how this all comes together?

But I digress….

Like many boys during the heady days of the 30’s Bob Doe was crazy about airplanes (or aeroplanes). He was walking home from school one day when an RAF bi-plane made a forced landing in a field nearby. Although painfully shy, he approached the plane and was able to feel the heavily doped fabric under his touch. It kindled an indescribable yearning in him.

“Every time I saw a picture of on aeroplane I’d cut it out and stick it in a book. I was just mad about aeroplanes.”

By 1936 it was pretty obvious to some within the British government (Churchill for one) that war was inevitable. There was much debate regarding what the best use of resources would be. Most felt that bombers were the future: That you must take the war to the enemies’ cities. Other’s argued, “The bomber always gets through”, meaning that fighters were needed to combat the threat. The “Threat” was openly acknowledged as being Germany. The Air Ministry ordered 600 Hurricanes and 310 Spitfires. However the Spitfire program was running a year behind schedule. It was such an advanced aircraft that it was difficult and expensive to manufacture. As late as 1939 there were discussions about scrapping it all together. And while they might not yet have the number of planes that would be need if war came, the Air Ministry could make certain that they would have enough pilots. That same year, The Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve was commissioned. Bob Doe remembers…

“Whilst I was there (at the News of the World) the government introduced a scheme where they would pay you to learn to fly, if you would give up your time. Now I leapt at that, as you can imagine. I did about 75 hours flying with the VR in old B2s.”

The salary was £25 a year.

“I realized the war was coming. It becomes obvious after a while. I was working in Fleet Street. The old Air Ministry building was literally 1/4 mile away. So I walked into the building; lunch time, and said to the commissionaire, ‘I want to be a pilot. What do I do?’”

I interrupted. “It was that simple?”

“I just remember being terribly, uh….”

“Green…naïve….” Betty offered up.

“Yeah. Green. I was that… all those things. I was terribly naïve.”

“Not very educated – “ Betty continued.

“Well, I left school at fourteen, let’s face it. I failed the only exam I ever sat, in fact” Bob laughed.

I asked him how old he was when he walked into the Air Ministry.

“Seventeen. I went to various offices and every time they found out I had no education I was pushed on to another office.”

That’s when he ended up in sitting in front of the officer with the “scrambled egg” on his hat.

“Anyway – he and I got along like a house on fire, and he discovered that I had done 75 hours of flying which, at that time was pretty good. Eventually he said, ‘Because of your lack of education I’m going to sat you an exam which you have to sit in the Ministry here next week. Wednesday.’ And then he took a book out of the drawer of his desk and he marked a chapter in this book. He said, ‘Learn that by heart before you come.’ This was the Moment of the Arm…, which I had no clue what the Moment of the Arm was. It’s where you put your foot on the pedal on a bicycle and the forced is not applied on the pedal, it’s applied on the fulcrum.”

“Oh yes, of course.” I agreed. Probably because I didn’t want to sound ignorant. I had no idea what the Motion of the Arm was.

“I knew nothing about that… however, I learnt this verbatim, by heart, and he sat me this exam that was a dead simple one apart from one question: “What is the Moment of the Arm?”, Which I knew, word for word. That’s how I became an officer in the Royal Air Force, sir. And that’s the honest truth.”

That was 1938 – one year before the war came to Europe.

“…. I became a short service officer and started flying with the air force in, what was it… February ’39. And I was right on through the normal things. I was trained on twin engines. Recommended for heavy bombers and eventually, the end of the course, which finished in the beginning of November ’39, after the war had officially started, I was posted to form 234 Squadron.”

Assuming that the average American school kid is still taught history in school they would probably tell you that WWII started on December 7, 1941. Tell that to Poland. On September 1, 1939, Germany invaded Poland using the Blitzkrieg tactics of dive-bombers and massive ground troops. Everyone declared war on one another and then… nothing happened. There were some minor skirmishes here and there but for the most part it was all quiet on the Western Front. This period of seemingly inactivity came be to known as the Phony War; as christened by an American senator: more likely than not to illustrate why America didn’t need to involve herself in the conflict. Churchill referred it this as the Twilight War, though many in Britain called it the Bore War. Even the always hilarious Germans jumped on the band wagon; referring to it as Sitzkrieg (Sitting War), an obvious pun on Blitzkrieg.

“We arrived in Hull; we were stationed in Leconfield in Yorkshire. We arrived at Hull Station in the pouring rain. It always seemed to rain in Yorkshire. They sent a three-tonner over to fetch us up and back (laughs). We finished up in the mess where we met the C.O. and two Flight Commanders and we said, ‘What sort of squadron is it, Sir?’ And they didn’t know. We went down to the flights the next morning to find that reason they didn’t know was, our equipment was 1 Tutor, which was a WWI flying dual aeroplane, 1 Gauntlet, which was the predecessor of the last biplane fighter we ever made; the Gladiator…so that was something like 15-years old… 1 modern, two-seater trainer, the Magister, which was a very basic trainer. That was our total equipment, thank you very much.” He breaks out in a broad smile. “That’s why we didn’t know what we were.”

“A bit later, a load of Blenhiems (twin-engine, light bombers)… turned up and we were flying those around the place. They’re quite a joy to fly. Remember, we were trained as bomber pilots. Then they took the Blenhiems away and sent them to Finland to help them fight the war against Russia.”

The Finnish-Russian War was a brief, six-month affair over border disputes. World opinion, such as it was, sided with the Finns, but the Russians, with their superior numbers, eventually got what they asked for. Ironically, when Germany declared war on the USSR in 1941, Finland, in one of those historically stupid moments, allied itself with Hitler, hoping that they could regain the lost territories. Great Britain now declared war on Finland. In the end, Finland lost more territory than they had originally given up and were also made to pay $300,000 in reparations to the USSR. That would be over $ 3 billion today. Ouch.

“They gave us Battles….”

“Fairey Battles?” I inquired. I have no idea where I pulled that name from.

“Fairey Battles. This was the time that Battles were being shot down in France like flies. Their total defensive weapon was one .303 (7.7mm machine gun). Their total defensive; and offensive weapon….” He let that point hang in the air. “They could carry one thousand pounds worth of bombs and had one .303 and that was it. It was, it was… well, it was about four times the size of a Hurricane with the same engine so you can imagine how effective it was.”

Flown for the first in March of 1936, the Fairey Battle was designed as a light bomber to replace the Hawker Hart biplane.

“It (Battle) was the first aeroplane in the air force to have retractable undercarriage and people kept landing wheels up all over the place – they put the word “wheels” in lights right across the dashboard.” He laughed at the thought of RAF pilots needing a reminder to lower their wheels. “This was very unpopular, as you can imagine. Letters about an inch high! One chap, I found out, had turned the lights off, which meant turning the engine off as well.” (Laughs).

Although they had only been in production a few years, the Battle was already obsolete by the time the war really started to heat up. Even the formidable German Stuka, which had proved to be so devastatingly lethal in Spain and Poland, would soon be pulled from service. A new era of aerial warfare was about to begin.

“I was very worried because, as I said, Battles were being shot down like flies in France. In fact, I don’t think we ever got a Battle back from France. Um, one came back.”

His story had pulled me in and I wanted to somehow participate in the adventure. I fumbled for an awkward opening. “This would have been before Dunkirk?” I tentatively asked and proclaimed in the same breath, like a schoolboy volunteering an answer he wasn’t 100% was correct.

“Er… around the time of Dunkirk. Just before.”

Yes! I thought smugly to myself. I’m historically in the groove.

Dunkirk. Victory through defeat. Army Group A of the Nazi war machine rolled through the Ardennes, flanked the Maginot Line and cut a swath through France. Army Group B swung down through the Netherlands and Belgium. Caught between the pincers of these advancing armies were 330,000 men of the British Expeditionary Forces, literally stranded on the beaches of Dunkirk; the English Channel at their back. What happened next would provide fodder for historians for the next 66 years and beyond.

The German panzers stopped. Faced with an opportunity to wipe out the B.E.F. the German High Command halted outside the town of Dunkirk and didn’t press their advantage. This allowed the British to commandeer a flotilla of privately owned boats known as the Little Ships. Over 700 of these vessels were used to ferry the stranded soldiers from the beaches of Dunkirk safely back to England in what was classified as Operation Dynamo. The resulting “Disaster turned to Triumph”, as the British press referred to it, allowed the British army to live to fight another day.

“What General Weygand called the Battle of France is over. I expect that the Battle of Britain is about to begin. Upon this battle depends the survival of Christian civilization. Upon it depends our own British life, and the long continuity of our institutions and our Empire. The whole fury and might of the enemy must very soon be turned on us. Hitler knows that he will have to break us in this island or lose the war. If we can stand up to him, all Europe may be free and the life of the world may move forward into broad, sunlit uplands. But if we fail, then the whole world, including the United States, including all that we have known and cared for, will sink into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by the lights of perverted science. Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, 'This was their finest hour.' Winston Churchill - To the House of Commons, 18 June 1940.

The war was now at their doorstep and the Battle of Britain of about to begin.