OT: Old Airplanes And Old Aviators

[Guest guest]

A bit of an uplifter

> Old Aviators and Old Airplanes.....

>

> This is a good little story about a vivid memory of a P-51 and its pilot,

> as

> told by a fellow who was 12 years old in Canada in 1967. You may know a

> few

> others who could and would appreciate it, as well.

>

> It was noon on a Sunday, as I recall, the day a Mustang P-51 was to take

> to the air. They said it had flown in during the night from some U.S.

> airport; the pilot had been tired and wanted to lay-over for the night. I

> marveled at the size of the plane, now dwarfing the Pipers and Canucks

> tied

> down by her. It was much larger than in the movies, and she glistened in

> the

> sun like a bulwark of security from days gone by.

>

> The pilot arrived by cab, paid the driver, and then stepped into the

> flight

> lounge. He was an older man; his wavy hair was gray and tossed. Looked

> like

> it might have been combed, say .....around the turn of the century.

>

> His flight jacket was checked, creased and worn - it smelled old and

> genuine.. Old Glory was prominently sewn to its shoulders. He projected a

> quiet air of calm proficiency and pride devoid of arrogance. He filed a

> quick flight plan to Montreal (Expo-67, Air Show) then walked across the

> tarmac to the waiting old war bird.

>

> After taking several minutes to perform his walk-around check, the pilot

> returned to the flight lounge to ask if anyone would be available to stand

> by with fire extinguishers while he 'flashed the old bird up'. .....Just

> to

> be safe.

>

> Though only 12 at the time, I was allowed to stand by with an extinguisher

> after brief instruction on its use. 'If you see a fire, point, then pull

> this lever!' (...I later became a firefighter, but that's another story).

>

> The air around the 12 exhaust manifolds shimmered like a mirror from the

> fuel fumes as the huge propeller started to rotate. One manifold, then

> another, and yet another, coughed ...then barked in their wakenings. I

> stepped back with the others, and in moments the huge V-12 Packard-built

> Merlin 14-hundred horsepower engine came to life with a thunderous roar,

> blue flames knifed from her exhaust manifolds, the concussion of the

> exhausts shaking the air. Myself stunned, I looked at the others' faces,

> but

> there was seemingly no concern, so I lowered the bell of my extinguisher.

> One of the other guys signaled to walk back to the lounge. We did.

>

> Several minutes later, we could hear the pilot doing his pre-flight

> run-up.

> He had taxied down to the end of runway 19, out of our sight. All went

> quiet

> for several seconds; we raced from the lounge to the second story deck to

> see if we could catch a glimpse of the P-51 as she started down the

> runway.

> We could not.

> But there we stood, eyes fixed to a spot half way down 19, waiting to

> catch

> that final glimpse of a veteran of the skies.

>

> Then a roar ripped across the field, much louder than before, like a

> furious

> hell-spawn set loose!! ....Something mighty this way was coming!!

>

> 'My God!! Listen to that thing!' said the controller. And in seconds, the

> Mustang burst into our line of sight. Its tail was already off, and it was

> moving faster than anything I'd ever seen by that point on Runway 19.

> Two-thirds the way down 19, the Mustang was airborne with her gear going

> up.

> The prop tips were now supersonic and we clasped our ears as the Mustang

> climbed hellishly fast into the circuit ....only to be eaten up by the

> dog-day haze.

>

> We stood for a few moments in stunned silence, still trying to digest what

> we'd just seen. Then the radio controller rushed by me to the radio.

>

> 'Kingston tower calling Mustang?' He looked back to us as he waited for an

> acknowledgment.

>

> The radio crackled, 'Go ahead Kingston.'

>

> ' Mustang. Kingston tower would like to advise the circuit is clear

> for

> a low level pass.'

>

> I stood in shock because the controller had, more or less, just asked the

> pilot to return for an impromptu 'air show' !

>

> The controller looked at us. '...What?' He asked. '....I can't let that

> guy

> go without at least asking! I could never forgive myself !'

>

>

> The radio crackled once again, 'Kingston, do I have permission for a low

> level pass, east to west, across the field ?'

>

> ' Mustang, the circuit is clear for an east to west pass.'

>

> ', Kingston, I'm coming out of 3000 feet .....stand by.'

>

> We rushed back onto the second-story deck again, our eyes fixed toward the

> eastern haze. The sound was subtle at first, a high-pitched whine, a

> muffled

> screech, a distant scream in the morning air.

>

> Moments later the

> P-51 burst through the haze. Her airframe straining against positive G's

> and

> gravity, wing tips spilling contrails of condensed air, prop-tips again

> supersonic as the burnished bird blasted across the eastern margin of the

> field, shredding and tearing the still air with a banshee scream of her

> twelve cylinders.

>

> ....At about 400+ mph and 150 yards from where we stood, she passed with

> the

> old American pilot saluting us!! Imagine.... a salute ! I felt like

> laughing, I felt like crying, she glistened, she screamed, the building

> shook, my heart pounded.

>

> Then the old pilot pulled her up .....and rolled, and rolled ......and

> rolled out of sight into the broken clouds ...and indelibly into my

> memory.

>

> I've never wanted to be an American more than on that day. It was a

> time

> when many nations in the world looked to America as their 'big brother'; a

> steady and even-handed beacon of security, who navigated difficult

> political

> waters with grace and style; not unlike the pilot who'd just flown forever

> into my memory. He was proud, not arrogant ....humble, not a braggart, old

> and honest, projecting an aura of America at its very best.

>

> That America WILL return one day, I know it will. Until that time, I'll

> just

> send off this story; calling it a reciprocal salute ....to the old

> American

> pilot who wove a memory for a young Canadian that has lasted a lifetime