Navysnipe Loc: Old West

The WW11 Pilot





This true story is of the 1967 experience of a young 12 year old lad in Kingston, Ontario, Canada. It is about the vivid memory of a privately rebuilt P-51 from WWII, and its famous owner/pilot.


"In the morning sun, I could not believe my eyes. There, in our little airport, sat a majestic P-51. They said it had flown in during the night from some U.S. airport, on its way to an air show. The pilot had been tired, so he just happened to choose Kingston for his stopover. It was to take to the air again very soon. I marveled at the size of the plane, dwarfing the Pipers and Canucks tied down near 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, and then stepped into the pilot's lounge. He was an older man; his wavy hair was gray and tossed. It 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 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 tall, lanky man 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!", he said. (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 with an arrogant snarl. 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 ran 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. It's tail was already off the runway and it was moving faster than anything I'd ever seen by that point on 19. Two-thirds of 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 hellishly 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 tower calling Mustang." He looked back to us as he waited for an acknowledgment. The radio crackled, "Go ahead, Kingston." "Roger, Mustang. Kingston tower would like to advise the circuit is clear for a low level pass." I stood in shock because the controller had just, more or less, asked the pilot to return for an impromptu air show! The controller looked at us. "Well, what?" he asked. "I can't let that guy go without asking. I couldn't forgive myself!"

The radio crackled once again, "Kingston, 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, I'm coming out of 3,000 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 G's and gravity. Her wing tips spilling contrails of condensed air, prop-tips again supersonic. The burnished bird blasted across the eastern margin of the field shredding and tearing the air. At about 500 mph and 150 yards from where we stood she passed with the 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 waters with grace and style; not unlike the old American 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 this story. Call it a loving reciprocal salute to a Country, and specially to that old American pilot: the late-JIMMY STEWART (1908-1997), Actor, real WWII Hero (Commander of a US Army Air Force Bomber Wing stationed in England), and a USAF Reserves Brigadier General, who wove a wonderfully fantastic memory for a young Canadian boy that's lasted a lifetime."


This is the America we need to get back to...

AL gouhti Loc: Jannah

Loved it!!!! :thumbup: :thumbup: :thumbup: :thumbup: :thumbup: :thumbup:

EL Loc: Massachusetts

[quote=Navysnipe]The WW11 Pilot





This true story is of the 1967 experience of a young 12 year old lad in Kingston, Ontario, Canada. It is about the vivid memory of a privately rebuilt P-51 from WWII, and its famous owner/pilot.


"In the morning sun, I could not believe my eyes. There, in our little airport, sat a majestic P-51. They said it had flown in during the night from some U.S. airport, on its way to an air show. The pilot had been tired, so he just happened to choose Kingston for his stopover. It was to take to the air again very soon. I marveled at the size of the plane, dwarfing the Pipers and Canucks tied down near 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, and then stepped into the pilot's lounge. He was an older man; his wavy hair was gray and tossed. It 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 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 tall, lanky man 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!", he said. (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 with an arrogant snarl. 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 ran 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. It's tail was already off the runway and it was moving faster than anything I'd ever seen by that point on 19. Two-thirds of 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 hellishly 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 tower calling Mustang." He looked back to us as he waited for an acknowledgment. The radio crackled, "Go ahead, Kingston." "Roger, Mustang. Kingston tower would like to advise the circuit is clear for a low level pass." I stood in shock because the controller had just, more or less, asked the pilot to return for an impromptu air show! The controller looked at us. "Well, what?" he asked. "I can't let that guy go without asking. I couldn't forgive myself!"

The radio crackled once again, "Kingston, 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, I'm coming out of 3,000 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 G's and gravity. Her wing tips spilling contrails of condensed air, prop-tips again supersonic. The burnished bird blasted across the eastern margin of the field shredding and tearing the air. At about 500 mph and 150 yards from where we stood she passed with the 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 waters with grace and style; not unlike the old American 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 this story. Call it a loving reciprocal salute to a Country, and specially to that old American pilot: the late-JIMMY STEWART (1908-1997), Actor, real WWII Hero (Commander of a US Army Air Force Bomber Wing stationed in England), and a USAF Reserves Brigadier General, who wove a wonderfully fantastic memory for a young Canadian boy that's lasted a lifetime."


This is the America we need to get back to...[/quote

GREAT!!!

:thumbup: :thumbup: :thumbup: :thumbup: :thumbup:

DamnYANKEE

And , I for one , Really miss him :thumbup: :thumbup: :thumbup: :thumbup: :thumbup:

boatbob2

iIm hopeful,that We can get Back to THE REAL AMERICA,Jimmy was a great American Hero,He is surely missed......

PoppaGringo Loc: Muslim City, Mexifornia, B.R.

:thumbup: :thumbup: :thumbup:

Active_Reader

To the writer, Navysnipe, a regular on October 14, 2015 at 0355 hrs. onepoliticalplaza.com/t-53573
Thanks for the story of the WWII P-51 fighter pilot. It brought tears to me eyes. I like the sound of the Packard Merlin engine. Next time you may want to write that as the aircraft passes, and the roar of the Merlin has a distinct roar that should prove to you of the drawn-out roar called “The Doppler Effect.”
The P-51D with a bubble canopy does about 430 Kts true. Faster than an F4U Corsair. I use to be a member of the U.S. Naval Air Reserve at New Orleans NAS, Louisiana back in 1950-51 as a plane captain of three FG-1Gs with VF 823 for two years. Their paint job were oxidized but airworthy for our pilots flew them for two days every month. The US Navy was short of personnel. I was responsible for three FGs with buzz number 28, 29, and 30. The FG had three props blades. I doubt that the tips were supersonic, but most aircraft of this type produce the moisture at high RPMs when the humidity is high.
I eventually went USAF as a jet fighter pilot flying T-34s, T-28, T-33As, F-100s, and finally finished the Tactical Air Command jet fighter school, called the Fighter Pilots University at Luke AFB, and Nellis AFB in Nevada. Number one in my class for both an air and ground attack, and nuke qualified in the F-100 Super Sabre. Maj. Ralph “Hoot” Gibson was my flight commander- A Korean Air Ace. I believe that the US Navy copied the air training program from the Advanced Jet Fighter Course for Air to Air Combat, called Air Combat Maneuvering (ACM). The US Navy program was called Top Gun. I use to tangle with the Miramar Naval Air Station F8Us, and F2Jsover the Pacific, and the Desert area near El Centro, California at altitudes of flight level (FL 400,) 40,000 feet. They were no match for me for I used my own version of a YoYo attack. Trade air speed for altitude up by climbing up to FL 500, and watch which way they were to turn as they ran out of airspeed trying to follow. Once the rolled off to port or starboard, they were dead ducks. I did not have to use afterburner. The bird is so clean that it goes super in a dive and could nail the stupid pilot with one quick pass going super and after passing him in my diving attack, I would pull up to 5 Gs and again trade my supersonic speed to climb back up and again watch his next move.
My first combat ready fighter squadron was at George AFB, California in Dec. 1959. The 479 TFW commander was Col. Ruddell, a Korean War Ace also. We became close friends. I was combat ready for the F-100C/D aircraft but since I was high in my academic and flying skills, I lucked out and was assigned to the 435th Tac Ftr Sqd flying the Lockheed F-104C and D Starfighter. I mentioned the Doppler Effect above with the P-51. The F-104 design that used the General Electric J-79 engine, which was just off the drawing boards, and we were the first to use this engine. The A/C has a lot of names: The Zipper, Widowmaker. It had both variable inlet guide vanes, and variable afterburner nozzle. The airflow around the J-79 creates a high pitch scream more like a low frequency growl that can be heard for up to 15 miles away. It also created a Doppler Effect sound. The new design using inlet guide vanes was experimental and caused a lot of pilot deaths due to compressor stalls.
I noticed that you collect banjos. I can see several 5-string. I use to play one, but my travels in the Air Force- with the F-104- prevented me from bringing it along with me. There was a Musical Group called the Kingston Trio, with Nick Reynolds the owner, a former classmate in High School that is credited in starting the folk music style with songs that were written by the late Woody Guthrie; like Tom Dooley, Tijuana Jail, and Remember the Alamo. 5-string banjo player were in demand. Pete Seeger make the 5-string popular and he made to the age of 98. As told by another friend Reynolds died of cancer. Seeger is no longer with us. I use to communicate with the late 5 stringer Earl Scruggs while in the Air Force. My high school classmate by the name of Donald McArthur use to send me all of the Kingston Trio albums- while I was standing alert in Spain, Morocco, and West Germany. I would play them out on the alert hanger until they were worn out. I use to watch the 5th Spanish Fighter Sqd fly their old Bf-109s with wither the British Royal Royce, of Gifford engine as they would land in front of our alert hanger window at Moron near Seville, and Terrijon Air Base in Spain. I had a Spanish pilot friend that was going to check me out in the Bf109. The Spanish liked the 109 but when they build the machine the engine they used the propeller rotated opposite from the fuel injected engine. As a result the rudder off-set was wrong. The pilot had to crank in the trim to try and make it fly straight. These were some of the aircraft that American and British aircraft enthusiast bought and flew in the British picture “Battle of Britain back around 1970ish.
Jimmy Stewart was a good actor and just recently watched his performance flying the B-36, and introduced and indoctrinated B-47s pilots as part of the Strategic Air Command Nuclear Alert. I watched an old time color motion picture titled, Once In The Land of the West with James? Fonda, and Charles Bronson. In the film they used two old 1860? Style steam locomotives. My question is where did they get those locomotives to produce the film? I am an ardent fan of aircraft and locomotives as well.
If you cut a DVD with your 5-string, send me a message. For I am interested in one.
I will be forwarding your WWII story amongst some of my friends, brothers, and associates.
My e-mail is normannhuff@gmail.com

Navysnipe Loc: Old West

Another great story! Thank you for your service sir! I doubt I will be cutting a CD anytime soon, but if I do, you'll be first on my list for receiving one, no charge. I'm familiar with the Kingston Trio as they are from my hometown-Spokane. Tom Dooley was one of the first songs I learned on the banjo. I also have to add that this isn't my personal story, but rather a story that was passed on to me from a friend. But its a good one, and I thoroughly enjoyed reading yours too. Best wishes :D

angery american Loc: Georgia

Thank you for the story.....It brought a tear to my eye...As the years are passing me by at a faster rate now, I fear the America I grew up in and proudly served in our military is just about finished. When a person who has no experience at anything, and also doesn't project any love for our country is elected as PROTUS, that is prof enough for me that We are doomed...


I don't know how much longer we will last , but I hope I can be around for the end because It will be open season on liberals, Illegal aliens, upidity blacks, and all the morons who brought our country down....Be prepared it is coming whether we like it or not...Lock And Load

Navysnipe Loc: Old West

They are definitely trying to bring us down aren't they? But they still seem to be enjoying capitalism, and the American way in the meantime.

Don G. Dinsdale Loc: El Cajon, CA (San Diego County)

Hope you are wrong, but you just might be correct... If you are correct our Republic is lost because ONCE there is an armed coup/take over of our government, it can happen again, and again, etc., that banana Republic Obama want the US to become will be complete... I'm not saying I would help the best I could but we must be made aware of what we are doing... Voting is always better, if we can... Don D.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PeterS

Great story...

Active_Reader

I'm back. You mentioned that one of the players was from Spokan? I use to enjoy the tall skinny one that played the banjo. I heard that he left, and was one that went to heaven first. Stewart also left, and my wife and I went to hear him at a Guitar Shop near Santa Monica, CA about 15 years ago.
I have not qualms about you getting the story from another friends. That is what I like about people that have enjoyed the history of aircraft, and what many of our airmen and pilots had to go through during WW II.

Since you are into 5-string, maybe you know of the female 5-stringer name that plays or performs in a cave below ground in Memphis, TN? I only read about the group, but did not hear her group play or do I know the groups name to go buy it.

As I was mulling your story. It is good. I thought you should send it to one of the aviation magazines companies like Aviation History, Air Classics, World War II. I am trying to get a Warren Thompson, a contributing editor to Flight Journal to revise his stories on the F-104s in Vietnam. From what I can tell you have to get in with a contributing editor to add any aviation stories to be printed.

There was another movie called Deliverance. Can you play a duet with a guitar player like the young Tennessee kid did? I loved the song.
Burt Reynolds is in bad shape. The movie producers would not hire him for any movies for his face is disfigured. It is covered in one of the Gossip magazines in groceries stores at this time. Clint Eastwood hit him in the jaw, accidentally, and Burt Reynolds had to be operated on and left his jaw looking terrible. The movie producers thought he had AIDS and did not want him touching them.

You use a Navy name. Did you serve in the Navy?

Got to go.
Norm :-)

Workinman Loc: Bayou Pigeon

Amen!! God Bless America and God Bless Jimmy Stewart!!

Active_Reader

Someone that got between you and me suggested that I use Quote Reply. IF we get lost please send e-mail to normannhuff@gmail.com