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scrimm
Joined: 09 Jan 2006
Posts: 81
Location: Gilbert, SC SC99
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 Posted: Mon Mar 06, 2006 8:06 pm Post subject: A P-51 Fly-by Story Retold |
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While off topic, we all can just imaging being on the tarmac and watching
the air show.
Steve
| Quote: | Below was sent by an Air Force friend. Don't know who
this P-51 veteran pilot was in the story, but the
article was written by a Canadian named Lea MacDonald
who recalled witnessing a P-51 takeoff when he was a
young 12 year old boy. The story is woven with
language that if you just close your eyes you can
imagine that you can hear the whine of that powerful
Merlin engine! Enjoy.
By Lea McDonald ( at www.rense.com)
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 US airport, the pilot had
been tired. I marveled at the size of the plane
dwarfing the Pipers and Canucks tied down by her, it
was much larger than in the movies. She glistened in
the sun like a bulwark of security from days gone by.
The pilot arrived by cab paid the driver then stepped
into the flight lounge. He was an older man, his wavy
hair was grey and tossed . . . looked like it might
have been combed, . . say, around the turn of the
century. His bomber 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 proficiency and pride devoid of
arrogance. He filed a quick flight plan to Montreal
(Expo-67, Air Show) then walked across the tarmac.
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 exhaust manifolds shimmered like a
mirror from fuel fumes as the huge prop started to
rotate. One manifold, then another, and yet another
barked -- I stepped back with the others. In moments
the Packard-built Merlin engine came to life with a
thunderous roar, blue flames knifed from her
manifolds. I looked at the others' faces, there was no
concern. I lowered the bell of my extinguisher. One of
the 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'd taxied to the end of
runway 19, out of 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. There we
stood, eyes fixed to a spot half way down 19. Then a
roar ripped across the field, much louder than before,
like a furious hell spawn set loose---something mighty
this way was coming. "Listen to that thing!" Said the
controller. 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
19. Two-thirds the way down 19 the Mustang was
airborne with her gear going up. The prop tips were
supersonic; we clasped our ears as the Mustang climbed
hellish fast into the circuit to be eaten up by the
dog-day haze.
We stood for a few moments in stunned silence trying
to digest what we'd just seen. The radio controller
rushed by me to the radio. "Kingston radio calling
Mustang?" He looked back to us as he waited for an
acknowledgment. The radio crackled, "Kingston radio,
go ahead." "Roger Mustang. Kingston radio 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 asking . . . I
couldn't forgive myself!" The radio crackled once
again "Kingston radio, do I have permission for a low
level pass, east to west, across the field?" "Roger
Mustang, the circuit is clear for an east to west
pass." "Roger, Kingston radio, we're coming out of
3000 feet, stand by." We rushed back onto the
second-story deck, eyes fixed toward the eastern haze.
The sound was subtle at first, a high-pitched whine, a
muffled screech, a distant scream. Moments later the
P-51 burst through the haze . . . her airframe
straining against positive Gs 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
air.
At about 400 Mph and 150 yards from where we stood she
passed with an old American pilot saluting .
.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 water with grace and style; not unlike the
pilot who'd just flown into my memory. He was proud,
not arrogant, humble, not a braggart, old and honest
projecting an aura of America at its best. That
America will return one day, I know it will.
Until that time, I'll just send off a story; call it a
reciprocal salute, to the old American pilot who wove
a memory for a young Canadian that's stayed a
lifetime.
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_________________
Steve Crimm
N42AH |
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96victor(at)gmail.com
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| Posted: Tue Mar 07, 2006 8:20 am Post subject: A P-51 Fly-by Story Retold |
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|
I wonder what Lea McDonald says about America today...
Tom
On 3/6/06, Steve Crimm <steve.crimm(at)stephenscott.com> wrote:
| Quote: |
steve.crimm(at)stephenscott.com>
While off topic, we all can just imaging being on the tarmac and watching
the air show.
Steve
> Below was sent by an Air Force friend. Don't know who
> this P-51 veteran pilot was in the story, but the
> article was written by a Canadian named Lea MacDonald
> who recalled witnessing a P-51 takeoff when he was a
> young 12 year old boy. The story is woven with
> language that if you just close your eyes you can
> imagine that you can hear the whine of that powerful
> Merlin engine! Enjoy.
>
> By Lea McDonald ( at www.rense.com)
>
> 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 US airport, the pilot had
> been tired. I marveled at the size of the plane
> dwarfing the Pipers and Canucks tied down by her, it
> was much larger than in the movies. She glistened in
> the sun like a bulwark of security from days gone by.
>
> The pilot arrived by cab paid the driver then stepped
> into the flight lounge. He was an older man, his wavy
> hair was grey and tossed . . . looked like it might
> have been combed, . . say, around the turn of the
> century. His bomber 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 proficiency and pride devoid of
> arrogance. He filed a quick flight plan to Montreal
> (Expo-67, Air Show) then walked across the tarmac.
> 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 exhaust manifolds shimmered like a
> mirror from fuel fumes as the huge prop started to
> rotate. One manifold, then another, and yet another
> barked -- I stepped back with the others. In moments
> the Packard-built Merlin engine came to life with a
> thunderous roar, blue flames knifed from her
> manifolds. I looked at the others' faces, there was no
> concern. I lowered the bell of my extinguisher. One of
> the 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'd taxied to the end of
> runway 19, out of 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. There we
> stood, eyes fixed to a spot half way down 19. Then a
> roar ripped across the field, much louder than before,
> like a furious hell spawn set loose---something mighty
> this way was coming. "Listen to that thing!" Said the
> controller. 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
> 19. Two-thirds the way down 19 the Mustang was
> airborne with her gear going up. The prop tips were
> supersonic; we clasped our ears as the Mustang climbed
> hellish fast into the circuit to be eaten up by the
> dog-day haze.
>
> We stood for a few moments in stunned silence trying
> to digest what we'd just seen. The radio controller
> rushed by me to the radio. "Kingston radio calling
> Mustang?" He looked back to us as he waited for an
> acknowledgment. The radio crackled, "Kingston radio,
> go ahead." "Roger Mustang. Kingston radio 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 asking . . . I
> couldn't forgive myself!" The radio crackled once
> again "Kingston radio, do I have permission for a low
> level pass, east to west, across the field?" "Roger
> Mustang, the circuit is clear for an east to west
> pass." "Roger, Kingston radio, we're coming out of
> 3000 feet, stand by." We rushed back onto the
> second-story deck, eyes fixed toward the eastern haze.
> The sound was subtle at first, a high-pitched whine, a
> muffled screech, a distant scream. Moments later the
> P-51 burst through the haze . . . her airframe
> straining against positive Gs 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
> air.
>
> At about 400 Mph and 150 yards from where we stood she
> passed with an old American pilot saluting .
> .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 water with grace and style; not unlike the
> pilot who'd just flown into my memory. He was proud,
> not arrogant, humble, not a braggart, old and honest
> projecting an aura of America at its best. That
> America will return one day, I know it will.
>
> Until that time, I'll just send off a story; call it a
> reciprocal salute, to the old American pilot who wove
> a memory for a young Canadian that's stayed a
> lifetime.
>
>
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thomas(at)scherer.com
Guest
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| Posted: Tue Mar 07, 2006 12:16 pm Post subject: A P-51 Fly-by Story Retold |
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You know it ... "Canada is the better America".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
But apart from the Nation mentionned in the P-51 story - here is another off-topic, give-you-the-goosebumps-story:
This was told by the son of Karl Hich, Captain of the LZ127 - the most successful of all German Zeppelins. The Airship (yes ... ship at 236 Meters length) has circumnavigated the world - just imagine: 101 hours from Germany to Tokyo nontsop - and travelled to the Arctic:
On a cruise from Europe to Southern America the ship halted at 150 Meter altitude above the South Atlantic and the Captain stopped the Maybach engines. The sun was about to set.
The windows were opened and Arthur Rubinstein played Beethoven's moonlight serenade on the aluminum grandpiano aboard.
Who would have loved to be there ?
be well,
<Thomas, N81EU>
[quote] ---
| | - The Matronics Europa-List Email Forum - | | | Use the List Feature Navigator to browse the many List utilities available such as the Email Subscriptions page, Archive Search & Download, 7-Day Browse, Chat, FAQ, Photoshare, and much more:
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