Johnex Motorsports MRD
70A VANLUVEN ROAD Napanee Ontario K7R 3L2 Lyndhurst, ON, Canada

This is a true story experienced by a 12-year-old boy in Kingston Ontario in 1967 about the vivid memory of a privately rebuilt P-51 from WWII and its famous pi...lot. 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 very soon. 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. The pilot arrived by taxi; paid the driver then stepped into the pilot's lounge. He was an older man with grey, wavy hair. His flight jacket was somewhat checked, creased and worn with the US flag patch prominently sewn to its shoulders. He filed a flight plan to the Montreal "Expo-67 Air Show" then returned to his Mustang. 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-up the old bird, just to be safe." Though only twelve years old 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. 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 and I stepped back with the others. In moments the Packard-built Merlin, Rolls Royce engine came to life with a thunderous roar. Blue flames knifed from her manifolds with an arrogant snarl. I lowered the bell of my extinguisher. 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 at a spot halfway down the runway. Then a roar ripped across the field, much louder than before. 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. Two-thirds the way down 19 the Mustang was airborne with her landing gear 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 witnessed. 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, 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, and 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; 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. A salute to a Country, and especially to that old American pilot: the late JIMMY STEWART (1908-1997), Actor, 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 has lasted a lifetime See more

https://youtu.be/zSAJ0l4OBHM

Andrew at CBF Trenton Ontario

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