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<em>John E. Roberts</em> was the eldest of four children. He was the ringleader of his siblings, occasionally getting them all in trouble during their happy childhood. All four were to serve in World War II: Ned was in the Merchant Marines; Gedrge, a doctor in the Navy; and Mary Margaret, a captain in the WAC.</p>
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It was while attending Lake Forest College that John became interested in the Academy, hoping it would lead him to the Air Corps.</p>
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During his years at the Academy, numerals in baseball and football, with a winter of plebe hockey, were followed by three years of football with two awards of the Major “A.” Although an air cadet, winning his wings before graduation, his innate leadership was rewarded by the stripes of a captain.</p>
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Graduation was followed by further pilot training, service as an instructor in Oklahoma, and finally the war in Europe, where he won the Air Medal, and Purple Heart for his wounds with the 96th Bomb Group flying out of England. He used to tell about one mission when he took a duck through the front windshield on takeoff. It stunned him momentarily, but they continued in formation to the target. However, the extreme cold had frozen his face and some of the crew members, so they dropped to the deck for return, taking a lot of flak.</p>
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After the War, John stayed in Europe with what was to become USAFE in Wiesbaden where he was joined by Kitty and son Johnnie, who had been born in the fall of 1943. Kitty was, of course, Kathryn Frances Noonan of Drexel Hill, Pennsylvania, his long-time OAO. They had been married the day after graduation. In 1948 the family returned to the Washington area where John moved into personnel and organizational work with the Air Staff. By then they had been joined by son Bill, born in Germany.</p>
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But the Korean War had arrived. After attending the Air Command & Staff School, John wound up flying B-26’s in Korea. Late on the day before the ceasefire was to take effect, John was sent out on one last radar reconnaissance mission. He did not return. By the time his outfit had concluded that he was, in fact, missing, it was too late to send out a search plane because that would have violated the terms of the cease-fire almost as it began. That final flight was one of those very important missions to establish exactly where the lines were and exactly what equipment was located on enemy territory. They set a base point for establishing North Korean violations of the truce and were vital to the subsequent talks.</p>
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So perished a fine soldier and airman, victim of one of the first of our continued clashes with expansionist Communism. We are still talking with the enemy of 1953, but the data found by John and others has long since been disregarded by our opponents in creating one of the world’s largest armies and modern air arms. We all need to remember that our position in Korea was dearly bought by men like John Roberts.</p>
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He is survived by Kitty and their two sons, John E. Roberts, II and Bill. John, who is a lawyer in Allentown, Pennsylvania has three children: John E. Roberts, III, Kate, and Andrew. Bill is a senior computer operator with Chrysler First in Allentown, Pennsylvania. While John’s plane was never found, his name is inscribed on the marble panels of the Court of Honor in Honolulu, at the National Cemetery there. May the soul of this valiant airman rest in peace.</p>
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—<em>his classmates</em></p>
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