Decorated Spitfire pilot, successful CEO, family man
Ian Matthew of Cambridge Born: Aug. 28, 1920 in England Died: Oct. 23, 2018 of age-related illness
— Born in England on Aug. 28, 1920, Ian Matthew grew up with a fascination for aircraft at a time when flying was just a romantic notion for most people.
The boy would often stand in the garden of his Burton-on-Trent home watching planes fly overhead, dreaming that someday he would be up there, soaring through the sky.
By age 10, Matthew and a fellow dreamer managed to scrape together enough money to pay for a 10-minute flight in a double-winged biplane. The lad’s dreams of flight had not only been realized, but in just a few years he would become a war hero, a decorated Spitfire pilot and a man who made an indelible mark on history.
By age 15, he had joined the RAF volunteer reserves, though it would be six agonizing months before he took his first flight as a student. It must have felt like an eternity for the teen and he would have no inkling that his destiny was to fly for the RAF throughout the entire course of the Second World War, over the English Channel and occupied France.
For his incredible service, Matthew was honoured with the Distinguished Flying Cross, presented by King George VI on July 23, 1943, at Buckingham Palace. The commendation, read the award, was for “an extremely high standard of skill, individual tactics and courage.”
His son-in-law, Bob Hamilton, spent months working on Matthew’s history, reading through his flight log book, conducting interviews and delving into historical records. What he created was a document that is now a family treasure.
Matthew enlisted on April 21, 1939, four months prior to the outbreak of war. He did his flight training from May 12 to Oct. 13, 1940. And along with achieving his wings, he earned the right to grow a moustache.
His first flight in a Supermarine Spitfire was Oct. 2, 1940, and his first combat fight was Nov. 14 of that year.
In the text, Hamilton wrote of his father-in-law’s harrowing experiences flying over the English Channel in the winter.
“Despite the weather often being more dangerous that the enemy at this time of year, No. 91 Squadron continued to carry out near daily reconnaissance sorties.”
It wasn’t just the bad weather that made flights over the Channel dangerous. Pilots were under constant threat of interception by enemy aircraft, and given they were under strict radio silence, they could not call for help. They simply had to fly their way out of trouble, wrote Hamilton.
Matthew’s squadron was considered a different breed of fighter pilot, determined men who could work independently, doing reconnaissance as well as taking any opportunity to attack shipping and port installations. They were also known as the Nigeria Squadron, and one of Fighter Command’s most active and successful groups.
Matthew moved up the ranks quickly: flight sergeant, flying officer, flight lieutenant and commanding officer, a rank awarded to him after shooting down a German fighter — even though his own plane was damaged — as he was heading back to base.
Somehow, in the midst of all this flying and heroism, Matthew found time for romance.
He met Sheila Dowling at a dance, and after dating awhile the two became engaged. But their daughter Lindsay Hunter said her father had seen too many of his friends marry during the war, then leave the bride a widow and children without a father.
He didn’t want that to happen to Sheila, who was volunteering as a dispatcher with the National Fire Service. The service was tasked with dousing fires following German bombing raids on British cities. Along with her colleagues, Sheila also volunteered to comfort children who had been traumatized by bombing or losing their parents.
The couple married after the war, Jan. 16, 1946, and as they settled into civilian life. He returned to his father’s tailoring business, but eventually left for a job with Carborundum Abrasives in Manchester. The couple had three daughters: Judith, Lindsay and Fiona.
In the aftermath of war, England was struggling economically and in 1957, looking for a new challenge, Matthew accepted a job with his company’s Canadian plant, located in Plattsville, near New Hamburg.
“They were adventurous,” said Hunter, who also described her parents as highly social, a couple who soon had a wide circle of friends. Oddly, the couple went their separate ways on Sundays: Sheila went to the Catholic Church, while Ian attended the Presbyterian Church, where he became an elder and Sunday school teacher.
Matthew moved up the ranks at work as quickly as he had in the RAF, starting in quality control, moving onto sales, then plant management and, finally, as CEO. Sheila took a part-time job in the library.
Hunter said her dad’s success in Canada, in both his work and social life, was twofold.
“He was very intelligent, very smart and he was a good people person,” she said.
“He treated everybody with respect and kindness.”
She also spoke of her father’s calm demeanour, his even temper.
“I don’t remember him ever yelling,” she said. “But he expected good things of us (daughters), he had rules.”
Judith Hamilton said her dad was particularly good at “the talk” when any of his daughter’s misbehaved.
“He was always very fair. He was a great communicator.
“When you had the talk, you knew what you had done.”
Both daughters spoke of how positive their father was and his wicked sense of humour. Some of the jokes picked up when he was in sales were a bit offcolour and Sheila was certain to cut him short before he got to the punchline.
“He was an amazing father,” said Hamilton.
When Matthew became a grandfather and great-grandfather, he really unleashed his mushy side.
“He was so kind and generous,” said Hunter, recalling her own childhood in England.
“He loved little kids, he’d read us A.A. Milne books and do the different voices.”
After retirement Ian and Sheila travelled, mostly cruises and they had a condo in Florida, which meant Ian could play golf year round. As a retiree he volunteered, visiting housebound seniors and he was a member of Rotary Club and the Cambridge Memorial Hospital board.
Sheila died in 2008 and in August of this year, daughter Fiona Groulx also died.
“He was a visionary,” said Hamilton. “He had a vision for his family, for his life. He was an honourable man.”