Sold by Order of a Direct Descendant

‘He fought very well, and we were soon circling round one another right-handed. Our turning circle was very small. We were so close that I had the rare opportunity of actually seeing my adversary face to face. I could see his head in black flying cap and goggles. I could even see him looking at me through his goggles. With my usual un-orthodox trick I managed to get inside him and underneath and got my guns to bear. A long burst and he flicked right out of the turn to the left. I could see I had hit him hard - it's strange how in your first few fights you aim so carefully and seem to hit nothing and then suddenly you get the knack and can't miss. He went away down in a steep fast side-slip to the left and then into a very fast spin and one wing came off. Down he went, spinning faster and faster and slap into Lake Doiran between the lines with a tremendous splash which seemed to go up thousands of feet. I hope he was dead from the beginning - he fought well and deserved it. For some reason the observation posts in our front lines reported that it was I who had gone in - and my flight were quite shaken when I landed back there a little later. Good excuse for a party!’

Gerald Gibbs recalls a memorable combat in his autobiography, Survivor’s story.


The outstanding K.B.E., C.I.E., Great War fighter ace’s M.C. and 2 Bars group of fifteen awarded to Air Marshal Sir Gerald Gibbs, Royal Air Force, late Royal Flying Corps, whose low-level, close range tactics were rewarded by at least 10 “kills” over Macedonia - and three M.Cs inside six months: but he is probably best remembered for his role as right hand man to Sir Keith Park in No. 11 Group at the time of the Battle of Britain - when he himself assumed command during Park’s absence for two weeks in August 1940, and officiated at one of Churchill’s visits to Uxbridge in the same period; so, too, for his command of the Indian Air Force in the early 1950s, when he gamely flew a Vampire jet - a far cry from his days as a fighter ace in S.E. 5As


The Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, K.B.E. (Military) Knight Commander’s 2nd type set of insignia, comprising neck badge, silver-gilt and enamel, and breast star, silver, gilt and enamel centre, in its Garrard & Co. case of issue; The Most Eminent Order of the Indian Empire, C.I.E., Companion’s 3rd type neck badge, gold and enamel, in its Garrard & Co. case of issue; Military Cross, G.V.R., with Second and Third Awards Bars, unnamed as issued; British War and Victory Medals, M.I.D. oak leaf (Capt. G. E. Gibbs, R.A.F.); General Service 1918-62, 1 clasp, Kurdistan, M.I.D. oak leaf (F./L. G. E. Gibbs, R.A.F.); 1939-45 Star; Burma Star; Defence and War Medals 1939-45, M.I.D. oak leaf; Jubilee 1935; Coronation 1953; France, Legion of Honour, Chevalier’s breast badge, silver and enamel, silver-gilt and enamel centre; France, Croix de Guerre 1914-1918, with bronze palm, mounted as worn where applicable, upper arm of C.I.E. with slightly chipped enamel, otherwise generally good very fine (15) £14000-18000

K.B.E. London Gazette 10 June 1954.

C.I.E. London Gazette 23 May 1946.

M.C. London Gazette 26 March 1918:

‘For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty. On one occasion he pursued an enemy aeroplane to a very low altitude over the enemy lines and succeeded in driving his opponent to the ground. On a later occasion he and another pilot fought a hostile machine to within 200 feet of the ground over hostile territory, where it fell, completely wrecked. He has displayed consistent gallantry and determination in action.’

Bar to M.C. London Gazette 22 June 1918:

‘For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty. On one occasion he bombed an enemy aerodrome from a height of 100 feet and, descending to 20 feet, fired 200 rounds into the hangars. Later, on the same day, he engaged two enemy scouts and one two-seater machine, all three of which he drove down, the latter going down out of control from a height of 2,000 feet. On another occasion he pursued seven hostile scouts single-handed, one of which he succeeded in shooting down. He is a pilot of exceptional resource.’

Second Bar to M.C. London Gazette 16 September 1918:

‘For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty. While on patrol he engaged and pursued a hostile two-seater. After repeatedly diving on the enemy machine, the hostile observer waved a white flag and was allowed to land. He landed beside it and took both occupants prisoner and the machine intact. Later, he encountered two enemy scouts and a two-seater. The scouts fled, and after a prolonged fight, he shot down and crashed the two-seater, both occupants being killed. He has given repeated examples of skill, determination and pluck, and has accounted for ten enemy machines.’

Gerald Ernest “Gobbo” Gibbs was born in South Norwood, Surrey, in September 1896, the son of Cecil Gibbs and Fanny Wilhelmina Gibbs, and was educated at Kingston Grammar School.

Enlisting underage in the ranks of the 5th Battalion, East Surrey Regiment, on the outbreak of hostilities, he underwent basic training at Maidstone and Canterbury - ‘a motley crew in bowler hats and straw hats and caps.’ And even when the his battalion was embarked for Suez in October 1914, it still lacked proper uniforms, being attired in ‘dark blue serge uniform of a militia nature.’ From Suez the 5/East Surreys were embarked for India, where, after a further six months training, Gibbs observed ‘we were beginning to look like, and in fact were, a real force ... [and] ... in the summer of 1915, the Battalion was sent up to the North-West Frontier to play its part in keeping order in the tribal areas.’

Returning to England to attend an officer’s cadet unit, he was commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant in the 7th Battalion, Wiltshire Regiment, in November 1915, and quickly departed for Salonika.

In the summer of 1916, however - after being ‘got at by a talent scout’ - he transferred to the Royal Flying Corps, and was trained as a pilot at Aboukir, Egypt. Going solo after one hour, he was himself appointed an instructor, but in early 1917, he gained his first operational posting, to No. 17 Squadron in Macedonia.

Macedonia - early days

Equipped with B.E. 2Cs, No. 17 was having a difficult time. Gibbs takes up the story:

‘We were, however, very much bothered by a good and aggressive German pilot called Von Eschwege, who took a steady toll of us. He flew an Albatross D.V. and his flying, his tactics and his shooting were all very good ... When he didn't want to fight he beat it and when he was in a good position and wanted to fight it was pretty tough. He also used to shoot down our captive observation balloons - and that gave us an idea. We put one up with 500 lb. of ammonal in the basket. After a day or so he duly came and had a dive, and we touched off the explosive as he was pulling out and ripped off his wings. A most welcome relief, but we always felt we had done a very dirty trick. He was a good-looking fair little chap, with neat small hands.’

Von Eschwege removed from the scene, Gibbs and his junior pilots found themselves under the spell of a gallant Flight Commander:

‘I suppose most young men have a hero and we were not exceptions. Our hero in No. 17 Squadron was Murlis-Green, a Flight Commander who was some years older than we were and who had done some successful fighting on the B.E. 2s. What makes a hero for young men I don't know. Murlis-Green had guts, of course, and was a good pilot and a successful fighter - those were necessary components for hero-worship, but he had a lot more than that, and on consideration I think that the further essential characteristics which he had were a tough appearance, an amusing tongue, and a strong personality. In fact he was a born leader.

We would sometimes be asked to do 'bait' for Murlis-Green, and we were most delighted to do it. We would sit about in a B.E. 2c at about 8,000 feet a few miles over the other side of the lines, and he would sit in the sun a couple of thousand feet above us. Very often indeed an enemy fighter would come along to try and take the bait - and as soon as we saw him we would beetle off as fast as we could for the lines. Murlis-Green never let us down; he didn't always get the Hun, but the Hun never got us. He used to call us his 'Tigers' and we would swell with pride - frightened little rabbits that we were.’

Such hair-raising ‘bait’ activities aside, Gibbs himself fought several combats, a notable encounter taking place over Toplojani on 26 June 1917, when his Observer emptied half a drum of Lewis rounds into an enemy aircraft that fell away ‘throwing out large clouds of white smoke’. And in another combat on 15 October, Gibbs closed to between 100 and 200 yards behind the tail of an Aviatik two-seater and fired 150 rounds - ‘many tracers appeared to hit and the [enemy] Observer only fired a few rounds.’

First blood - emerging fighter ace - M.C.

But it was not until No. 17 took delivery of the superior S.E. 5a in January 1918 that Gibbs achieved his first confirmed victory, a DFW. C over south Angista on the 28th, shared with Lieutenant A. G. Goulding. And a Rumpler C became his second victim on the last day of the month, this victory shared with Captain F. G. Saunders, and probably the occasion ‘the enemy aircraft was driven to within 200 feet of the ground, where it fell, completely wrecked.’

A few days later, on 5 February, he and Saunders shared in another victory in a combat over Vernak Farm, an Albatross DIII and, ten days later, Gibbs shot down a DFW C. out of control north-east of Dovista.

He was awarded the M.C.

Ace status - captured enemy machine - second and third M.Cs

His next victory, as cited above, was achieved on 13 March, in a spectacular combat with another Albatross DIII which ended with the enemy pilot crashing into Lake Doiran - most likely Leutnant Otto Splitgerber, C.O. of Jasta 38.

Remarkably, a week later, on the 20th, Gibbs obtained the ‘surrender’ of DFW. CV after a close range combat near Cepista. Once more, he takes up the story in his autobiography:

‘I was at about 14,000 feet patrolling hopefully in an S.E. 5 over my airfield at Marian when suddenly I saw my precious ground strips indicating the height and position of an enemy aircraft. I soon caught sight of him, a two-seater at about 7,000 feet, and climbed up hidden under his tail. He was on a long reconnaissance so I had plenty of time, but I hadn't much margin of performance and I'd never have caught him if I hadn't already been up on patrol. At about 20 miles behind the lines he suddenly spotted me and turned for home - but too late. With me was my 'half-section' A. G. Goulding, a Canadian. We always hunted in pairs and usually stuck to the same pair. Being the leader I was well ahead and so was lucky enough to do the attack. Keeping out of range I climbed above and ahead of the two-seater, and then made a head-on or rather a bow attack - too high and too much on one side for the enemy pilot's fixed front gun to bear and yet presenting a very difficult shot for the observer with his rear mounting.

The very first attack crippled his engine and he started to lose height - but in the direction of his own lines, so I followed just out of range. I didn't think he'd make the lines and I had the opportunity to calm down and spare the lives of the occupants. I also had time for once to change my Lewis gun double drum carefully. I had one Vickers firing through the propeller with a Constantinesco interrupter gear and the Lewis on a Foster mounting which fired ahead just above the airscrew disc. The Lewis could be pulled back to fire upwards or to change drums and on some previous occasions I'd nearly laid myself out changing drums hurriedly in the dive. If the new heavy drum wasn't properly clipped home it would come off in the slip-stream and hit one a most almighty clout on the head. It sometimes took thousands of feet to recover properly.

This time, however, there was no hurry and I changed the drum properly and watched the enemy two-seater carefully. He fired no more but I was prepared to shoot him down if he looked like getting near the lines. I came quite close in formation watching the observer in case he aimed his gun in my direction, and was amazed to see that he was fluttering a white handkerchief; I realized in the same moment that he would have to land far short of his own lines. This he did, in a pretty good field, as I circled round - but his propeller continued to tick over. Afraid of a trick I waved the two occupants out and away from the aircraft and they obeyed. I then landed alongside, jumped out with my revolver and ran over to them in case they thought of destroying maps or taking off again. I suppose they'd already had a pretty good shock - being intercepted and forced to land on our side - and my murderous appearance running over revolver in hand was the last straw. The observer threw up - but the tough little egg of a pilot just looked surly. They had in fact no intention of taking off again; the coolant had all run out through the bullet holes in the water-jacket of the engine, and the engine was ticking over by pre-ignition although switched off. You can imagine how excited we were to get a German aircraft down intact and two live prisoners - people from another world, but people with whom we as fellow-flyers had a lot in common. We gave them lunch in our Mess, and then handed them over rather sadly to their escort who came to take them to prison camp. I had a very nice letter from the officer observer soon afterwards, and we dropped a letter over the enemy lines in a streamer packet to say they were safe. They usually did this for us, too.’

And so the fighting continued:

‘I must say that all this time on operations I was far more stupidly over-confident than courageous. Now and again some enemy aircraft would get a squirt at me, and then - as both sides used a lot of tracer - it was like being in front of the nose of a watering-can in full pour. But I was perfectly satisfied that I couldn't be hit - I was sorry for my friends who would probably be bumped off, but I was fireproof. You've got to be twenty-one. So life - and death - went on steadily month after month in my little detached flight at Marian-patrols, interceptions, escorts and fights, victories, casualties, troubles, up and downs - but a steady bag of enemy aircraft destroyed and the air was certainly ours. I was shot down twice, but each time by small arms fire from the ground and I was able to get to our side, crashing gently.’

But the strain of protracted active service began to take its toll:

‘In one week in the early spring of 1918 every pilot in my Flight except myself and one other was killed or captured, so I was sent away for a week to Athens for a rest while we got some new pilots. I needed a rest. I had been on operations for a year without a break and was beginning to be woken many times each night by a recurrent bad dream - always the same one. When I came back I found everybody nicely dug in, getting on well, and not particularly wanting me - l was a new face to them.

However, I made it my business to show that I was the leader again, and good fortune came in for me on the 13 of March, April and May. I shot down a German aircraft on each of those 13ths - no bad luck for me, plenty for them. Among the new boys whom I found on my return from Athens was Leslie Hamilton - later to be lost with Minchin and Princess Loewenstein trying to fly the Atlantic in 1927. We became close friends. Very often we would fight as a pair and had some good successes.’

By June 1918, the same month in which he was gazetted for his second M.C., and by which time No. 17 had been reformed as No. 150 Squadron in the newly established Royal Air Force, Gibbs was suffering from malaria and dysentery - ‘beginning to feel slightly less fireproof,’ he was admitted to a Casualty Clearing Station ‘in a pretty far gone and filthy condition.’

He was invalided home where, in September, he was gazetted for his third M.C., in addition to being decorated with the French Croix de Guerre and Chevalier’s grade of the Legion of Honour (London Gazette 21 September 1918, refers).

But he saw no further action, arriving in France as a Flight Commander in No. 29 Squadron just after the Armistice.

Between the Wars - Kurdistan M.I.D. - A.D.C. to “Boom” Trenchard and Staff Officer to Portal and “Bomber” Harris

Granted a regular commission in the Royal Air Force after the Great War, Gibbs found himself back on active service during the Kurdistan troubles of 1923, and, under trying conditions, assisted in flying out the District Commissioner and his wife, and a number of Assyrian Levies from Suliemanjeh, while 2,000 armed Kurds looked on, edging closer and closer as the passengers were embarked - ‘At a signal the Assyrian levies - a wonderful fighting force - ran into the remaining aircraft with their weapons and my C.O. waved me away. Keeping the tail off the ground with a lot of slipstream and forward stick I was off, and he followed. The evacuation was successful and no hostages were left behind.’

However, as Gibbs also recalled, this seemed to have been ‘an unlucky period, for I soon had another mishap’:

‘I was landing alongside a column which was out in hostile territory in another part of Kurdistan, a valley not far from Rowanduz, to take in some supplies and fly out a man with a suspected appendix. As I slowed up on the little cleared patch, my wheels sank in a soft place and the Bristol turned over. Laid out by a packing case from my back seat hitting me in the back of the head, I was quite satisfactorily revived by a little Scotch from my Army hosts. I took the separate cylinders off my Rolls engine (we were short of them), also the magnetos, strung the cylinders round the neck of one of our camels like a necklace and burnt the wreck. I was now with the column for a week or two - whether I liked it or not. It was, in fact, a couple of weeks which I enjoyed immensely. The country and the weather were wonderful, and as soon as my suede shoes began to wear out I was given a horse. There was very little fighting, a bit of sniping and occasionally a few Kurds on ponies would show themselves half a mile or so to a flank and fire two or three rounds before they disappeared. Rotten horseman though I am, I have one over most of my horsey friends. I have been in action on horseback! Only a small sortie to a flank against some of these chaps and a few shots without falling off - but there it is. I got on very well with my Army hosts and did an air liaison job for them, so that next time a flying column went out I was detailed to go as their regular liaison officer and had a wonderful three weeks in Kurdistan.’

He was mentioned in despatches (London Gazette 10 June 1924, refers).

Moreover, as observed in his Times obituary:

‘Few service careers could have been given such a vigorous kick-start. Lord Trenchard, the “father” of the R.A.F., chose him as his A.D.C. in the late 1920s. Several years later he was on the Planning Staff at the Air Ministry, serving successively Group Captains Charles Portal and Arthur Harris, who were later to rise to the top in the Second World War.’

Advanced to Squadron Leader in 1930, and to Wing Commander in 1936, Gibbs also commanded No. 47 Squadron in the Sudan and Kenya in the period leading up to the renewal of hostilities.

The Battle of Britain - Deputy to Sir Keith Park, No. 11 Group

In May 1940, in the rank of Group Captain, he was ordered to take up appointment as deputy to Sir Keith Park at No. 11 Group at Uxbridge, in which role he would remain actively employed throughout the Battle of Britain - and indeed on one occasion act as A.O.C. of the Group:

‘Mr. Churchill's visits were always memorable, not only for the solid wise support he gave us but also for their lighter side. I was acting Air Officer Commanding of No. 11 Group at that period and, after we had been watching the controller in the Operations Room dealing with a big attack one day, and had come up above ground again, and were all ready for a pat on the back, Mr. Churchill said to me, “I was much moved when in your Operations Room I saw the panorama of Nazi might flung against the forces of civilization - and those forces controlled by one young man, and he a young man of no particular intellect!” Always the master of words as well as affairs, I also remember his putting me right some years later when I was in Transport Command and we were talking about the victory of the Battle of Britain. I said “Everything afterwards in the war flowed from that,” and he replied, “No, everything turned on it.” ’

Gibbs continues:

‘The visits by the King and Queen, and the Prime Minister, Mr. Churchill, during the crises of the Battle of Britain were, of course, a great tonic for us in No. 11 Group, but we didn't hear as much from the Air Ministry itself as might have been expected. In Fighter Command, and particularly in No. 11 Group, we had a feeling that our masters in the Air Ministry did not at the time fully appreciate the vital character of the struggle which was taking place. The orthodox minds of the Air Staff there seemed to us to be obsessed, or perhaps it is fairer to say preoccupied, with the doctrines of the air offensive - they did not appear to show adequate interest in the great defensive battle which was raging (ex-fighter squadron types were fairly rare then at the top). It is, of course, true that the defensive will not of itself win a war (particularly in the air) - the 'strategic' bomber offensive is the true role of an air force. But this was a time when it was essential to put almost everything into the defensive, or Britain would go down and there would never be an offensive. Whether our feeling of a lack of appreciation was justified or whether it was just undue sensitiveness under a heavy strain it is hard to say.’

Invariably, as Park’s deputy, Gibbs found himself in the thick of the “Big Wing” controversy, about which he concluded:

‘A great many people have heard of the bitter Park-Leigh-Mallory controversy in respect of the major tactical handling of our fighter units during the Battle of Britain. I was in a good position to know the ins and outs of the matter, for I was second-in-command to Park from May 1940 to December 1940, and then carried on in the same capacity to Leigh-Mallory when he took over from Park until February 1942.

During the former of these two periods, which covered the Battle of Britain, Leigh-Mallory (who was killed in 1944 when flying out to take command in the Far East) was A.O.C. of No. 12 Group of Fighter Command, the 'next-door' Group whose airfields were located north of London and in East Anglia, i.e. to the rear of No. 11 Group's location. He was outspokenly critical of Park's handling of No. 11 Group's fighters, in that he considered that Park should not engage the numerically superior enemy with our single squadrons as they came up, but should assemble and attack with whole wings of two or three squadrons. Leigh-Mallory worked to get Fighter Command direction in support of his views. He was a good advocate and was largely successful in this, for though Park was an active fighter pilot, a strong personality and an inspiring leader, he was not at his best at the conference table in this paper battle.

I want to explode the whole silly unfortunate controversy - there was a definite clash of personalities, but there was no real difference in tactical policy, merely a difference in the location of the two Groups. Leigh-Mallory lay further back and he had time to get whole wings up and assembled and into action before the enemy bomber and fighter formations could get away home - particularly if the enemy had already been delayed by the attacks of one or two squadrons of No. 11 Group. Moreover, being further back, the situation would be clear by the time he got his wings off the ground and threw them in. He knew by then that he was not committing all his force against an enemy feint. Park on the other hand had to get his aircraft into action as quickly as possible to attack the enemy bombers on the way in and to prevent un-opposed deliberate precision bombing - and a squadron gets up and into action more quickly than a wing of squadrons. Again, he dared not throw up and commit whole wings till the situation was clear. When he could, he did use wings - in fact as time went on and we got more and more on top of the Germans it became practicable to make far more frequent use of wings and he did so’.

Subsequent wartime appointments - the Far East - S.A.S.O. 3rd Tactical Air Force and C.A.S.O. to Mountbatten

As stated by Gibbs, he remained as deputy at No. 11 Group until February 1942, latterly under Leigh-Mallory. He was mentioned in despatches (London Gazette 1 January 1942, refers).

Next appointed Director of Overseas Operations at the Air Ministry, he was afterwards posted to the Far East as Senior Air Staff Officer to 3rd Tactical Air Force, where he directed the air operations which enabled Slim’s 14th Army to turn defeat into victory in Burma. And in 1945, he was appointed Chief Air Staff Officer at Mountbatten’s H.Q., which latter appointment led to his attendance of the Japanese surrender in Singapore. Gibbs takes up the story:

‘As soon as the Japanese gave up, Mountbatten went into Singapore to take the formal surrender at an impressive ceremony which I was privileged to attend. On arriving at the ceremony the Japanese chiefs were required to walk-unarmed, of course, the last few hundred yards down a main road lined thinly with our police and troops, and with the local population massed thickly behind the line. Their hearts full of the horrors and the insults of the Japanese occupation, their tempers rose and a deep growl of anger came from the crowd who threw themselves against the thin restraining line of police and troops. Any moment I expected them to break through and tear the Japanese generals to pieces. But the line held and the Japs marched impassively on. I give them full marks for their brave bearing. The Japanese are punctilious observers of formality, whether the occasion be a reception, an execution, or a surrender such as this, and although they were on the wrong end of this ceremony, I think they enjoyed it in a way - because it was very well done. At this surrender were also Keith Park and Harcourt-Smith. The three of us had been together in the Headquarters of No. 11 Group in the critical days of the Battle of Britain in 1940, and here we were together again at the kill. This was indeed a striking coincidence which we felt worthy of record-and it was duly photographed.’

Gibbs, who was advanced to Air Vice-Marshal, was awarded the C.B.E. (London Gazette 1 January 1945, refers), and the C.I.E.

C.-in-C. Indian Air Force

Having in the interim served as C.O. of Transport Command, and acted as Chairman of the U.K. Members of the Military Staff Committee, United Nations, Gibbs embarked upon the his final appointment, namely that of Commander-in-Chief of the Indian Air Force, 1951-53, a period in which he oversaw the successful completion of the induction of the Vampire - and, in typical fashion, brought his flying skills full circle from S.E. 5As to the jet age. The final word is his:

‘My two and a half years with the Indian Air Force passed quickly and happily, and too soon it seemed that we were on our way home again from Bombay. It had been a memorable and absorbing task. Many of the problems confronting the I.A.F. were similar to those which had faced the R.A.F. during a comparable stage in its development, and I hope that I was able to give sound guidance during those vital formative years of the new Service. I was proud that India asked our Government for a British officer to do the task. The Indians, for their part, were loyal and helpful to me as their Commander-in-Chief and did all they could to show their appreciation of the Royal Air Force and of my efforts when my time came to an end. I handed over to the first Indian C.-in-C., Air Marshal Subroto Mukerjee, an officer of able brain, a good friend and an attractive personality.

As we left Bombay I received a telegram from the President, Dr. Rajendra Prasad, saying that he had appointed me as an Honorary Air Marshal of the Indian Air Force - a very friendly gesture to an Air Marshal of the Royal Air Force.’

Gibbs, who was appointed K.B.E. in 1954, retired to Kingston-upon-Thames, and died in October 1992, aged 96 years.

At the Battle of Britain 50th Anniversary Service at Westminster Abbey in 1990, Air Marshal Sir Gerald Gibbs, K.B.E., C.I.E., M.C., who ranks high on the list of the R.A.F’s finest, was given a privileged seat opposite the Queen.

to be sold with the following archive:

(i) Warrant for the recipient’s appointment as C.I.E., dated 28 May 1946, and C.B.E., dated 1 January 1945, this latter with a copy of the Order’s Statutes and related forwarding letter; and certificate of award for his Coronation Medal 1953. For further award and M.I.D. documents, see accompanying scrapbook.

(ii) Commission warrant in respect of his appointment to the rank of Flying Officer, dated 2 August 1919.

(iii) A complete run of his Flying Log Books (4), comprising Great War Pilot’s Log Book, white covers, covering the period 8 August 1916 to 27 November 1918, together with a separate sheet listing flights between December 1919 and March 1920; Army Book 425 Pilot’s Flying Log Book, covering the period February 1920 to June 1925; Army Book 425 Pilot’s Flying Log Book, covering the period June 1925 to October 1929; and R.A.F. Pilot’s Flying Log Book (Form 414 type), covering the period November 1929 to April 1954.

(iv) A superb Great War period photograph album, containing approximately 400 images, commencing with scenes taken en route Suez in 1914; 1/5th East Surrey Regiment in India 1914-15; R.F.C. in Egypt as pupil pilot, and thence to active service in Macedonia, including a number of images relating to his ‘surrendered’ German pilot, observer and aircraft, in addition to Field investiture scenes for the award of his French Legion of Honour, and much besides; and thence to immediate post-war period 1919, including further active service in Kurdistan. A most comprehensive and important photographic record, with many fellow pilots featured.

(v) An impressive scrapbook, commencing with Great War period documentation, including original letter sent by the ‘surrendered’ German observer, requesting Gibbs to send him and autographed photograph; a German banknote holder; notification of the award of his Legion of Honour, with citation, dated 18 May 1918; M.I.D. certificates for Milne’s despatch, dated 25 March 1918; Kurdistan 1923, dated 10 June 1924, and as S.A.S.O., No. 11 Group, dated 1 January 1942; one or two secret and / or confidential 1939-45 vintage reports; Air Ministry letter in respect of his appointment to C.-in-C. Indian Air Force, dated 12 February 1951, his “Do It Yourself” check lists for flying the Vampire jet (‘and they worked!’), and a wide array of newspaper and magazine cuttings relating to his time in India in the early 1950s.

(vi) A run of old typescript copies of his combat reports for Macedonia 1917-18, and his 1939-45 War identity discs.