A Decorated World War II P-51 Fighter Ace: Vanishing Traces in a Decaying Detroit Suburb

There are few things in this world that do not interest me. The 225 posts which comprise this blog – observations and musings of a lifetime – illustrate the contention, I believe.

In this post, I dwell on two seemingly diverse and unrelated aspects of life and living. I will relate to you, the reader, how my primary interest led to the second.

The history and art of manned flight is foremost among the many categories to which I devote my time and energy. For that, I thank the legacy of my father.

One of the most fascinating categories within man’s recent relationship with space and powered flight are the accounts of fighter pilots and bomber crews during World War II. The stories that come down to us from those who flew in the storied Eighth Air Force, operating out of England, are riveting. The fighter pilots of the “Mighty Eighth” were primarily responsible for the defeat of Nazi Germany’s vaunted Luftwaffe as a necessary pre-requisite for the bomber commands, stationed in England, to safely traverse German airspace and obliterate German military/industrial installations.

To decisively break the morale of German public support for the war, the Eighth’s mission turned, in late 1943, to obliterating whole German cities – at a final cost to the “Mighty Eighth” of 53,000 Army Air Force aviators by war’s end. The stories of those who flew for the Eighth relate long periods of training, relocating abroad, more training, and extended boredom while awaiting action. Even harkening back to Civil War times, the ground soldier’s lot has been described as “long stretches of boredom and waiting, punctuated with moments of sheer terror.”

When action arrived for these pilots and crews, it was intense and often deadly. Death in the skies came quickly for many of the 53,000 airmen of the Eighth who did not survive.

I first encountered Lt. Urban Drew, who hailed from Detroit, Michigan, only recently when the Corgi Aviation Archive issued a 1/72 scale model of Detroit Miss, Drew’s P-51D Mustang in which he made wartime history over Germany by downing two German Messerschmidt jet-powered fighters on a single mission in late 1944. The Me 262 was the first operational jet fighter in history – the product of Nazi Germany’s early embrace of advanced aeronautical engineering. With its superior swept-wing design and jet technology, the Me 262 was fully150 mph faster than the Army Air Force’s best fighter, the P-51 Mustang. When the 262 first flashed across German skies in which our lumbering B-17 Flying Fortress bombers droned on toward their targets, our fighters, flying protective escort against German interceptors, found themselves at a decided disadvantage in these aerial encounters. Fortunately, it was not until early 1944 that Germany was finally able to get the 262 operationally airborne – at least a year too late to significantly influence the war’s outcome. The Me 262 was a formidable weapon despite early reliability issues that could be fully expected from a radical new airplane design that was necessarily rushed into service. When our P-51 Mustang pilots first glimpsed Me 262’s flashing past them at unbelievable speeds, they could scarcely believe their eyes.

With their tremendous speed advantage, bagging an Me 262 proved quite a challenge. Only one pilot managed to claim credit for two of them in a single mission, and that pilot was Lieutenant Urban Drew flying his brand-new P-51D named Detroit Miss in honor of his hometown. For that exploit, Drew was awarded the Air Force Flying Cross. Those two victories and five others gave him “Ace” status with seven total victories – two more than the honor requires.

375th Fighter Squadron, 361st Fighter Group. Bottisham, England – mid-July 1944.”Snitz” is in the middle, front row! Lt. Urban Drew at far right in back kneeling row.

Urban Leonard Drew passed from this life in Vista, California on April 3, 2013. His remains and his personal memories of growing up in Detroit and serving with the Mighty Eighth Air Force are interred together in Arlington National Cemetery.

Wanting to Know More

Urban Drew’s story prompted me to dig further….and I did. Along the way, I found a book on his life co-written with R.R. Powell and titled Ben Drew / The Katzenjammer Ace. The book opens with Olive Drew walking out of a Detroit movie theatre into a cold, hard, rain with her two sons, seventeen-and-a-half-year-old Urban and his slightly younger brother, Earl. They were headed home to their cozy little house at 14652 Hazelridge Street in a nice suburb of the city. More than the cold local rain, the newspaper headlines that day cast an even darker gloom on Detroiters – on all Americans, in fact. That day was December 7, 1941.

The book is an honest, straight-forward account of the sudden detour that shaped the life of Urban Leonard “Ben” Drew and countless other young Americans. The book’s cover is an artwork depiction by the aviation artist, Troy White, of a deadly confrontation between a German Me 109 pilot and Ben Drew flying a colleague’s “borrowed” P-51B Mustang named Suzy G. Down they went, locked in a deadly twisting, diving spiral toward the ground, each pilot jockeying for a fatal shooting bead on the other’s tail. The ground was coming up fast, and the German’s luck ran out first as he went into a field and oblivion. That victory was an earlier notch on Drew’s final list of seven credited kills-perhaps his toughest.

I was surprised and thrilled to find a signed book on Ben Drew’s life and flying career – even more so since the cover artwork is from aviation artist, Troy White. I have long had two framed canvas prints of his hanging in my room. These fittingly feature two P-51D Mustang renditions of the famed “Blue-Nosed Bastards from Bodney,” as they styled themselves.

 

The Model Detroit Miss

 The Real Detroit Miss

               Then, on the flightline in England

      Today, at Arlington

 Looking for Still More Information

 Wanting to learn still more about the history of a decorated World War II fighter pilot who compiled a combat record of distinction, I decided to trace his early Michigan roots! This led me to his hometown of Detroit, his boyhood home there, and a fascinating sequel to this post relating to “the way we were and the way we are!” See my blog post of June 10, 2023 for additional insight on that general topic.

Ever since our Michigan vacation, several years ago, my fascination with Detroit’s rise to greatness in the early part of the 20th century and its demise soon after World War II was tweaked. Abandoned and decaying Detroit infrastructure is colorfully displayed in a large format picture book I purchased there. The eerie depictions of total abandonment and decay which engulf formerly important auto plants and other aspects of the great city’s once booming industry stimulate a fascination – right down to my bones. Such pictures document final phases in the life cycles, not only of bustling places where we once worked, played, and lived, but of the human condition, itself.

In order to locate the boyhood home of Urban Drew prior to discovering his book, I started wirh the Detroit U.S. Census of 1940. By entering his name into an internet search for that census, bingo! – I found him listed along with his younger brother under his mother’s name, Olive Drew. His father died when Urban was only three years of age. I was able to use Google Maps to show pictures of the very home from which he left in order to sign-up for the United States Army Air Force on May 14, 1942. As a second lieutenant, he enrolled in the aviation cadet program at the age of eighteen. He had begun college at Wayne University at the time, but it was years later when he finished his degree at the University of Michigan.

Pulling up the street-view pictures of his boyhood home at 14652 Hazelridge Street in Wayne County provided a fascinating experience! As so often happens, a series of street views covering the period from 2008 to 2021 was available to view, and the pictures gleaned were mind-boggling.

This view of 14652 Hazelridge Street was taken in September, 2009. It reflects a still-populated, middle-class, working neighborhood which shows its age after eighty-plus years. Urban Drew’s modest boyhood home is third from the left.

By October, 2011, the neighborhood shows signs of definite neglect and decay.

In August, 2018, houses are beginning to disappear from the area reflecting a mass exodus. Most intact homes were abandoned: their ultimate fate obvious. The former Drew home is at the far right.

By January, 2022, only ghostly images remain on a wasteland. A vivid imagination  is required to visualize this neighborhood’s sunny, optimistic heydays – now long-gone.

What explains the rapid collapse of numerous Detroit neighborhoods like this one – in less than thirteen years?                                                         

I was frankly startled by what I found when merely attempting to locate the boyhood roots of a decorated fighter pilot from WWII. Not only did I pinpoint his 1940 boyhood neighborhood and home which was still standing after more than seventy years, but I uncovered a sequential photographic account of the neighborhood’s rapid demise over the last fourteen years – from functioning neighborhood to complete desertion and devastation!

To begin with, eighty-plus years of existence takes its toll on any neighborhood – anywhere. The rapid demise of Hazelridge Street and countless others in the Detroit suburbs was exacerbated by the 2008/2009 housing and mortgage-lending “crunch,” it appears. The residents of these already-old and time-worn neighborhoods, found themselves enveloped in a net of falling property values and tight equity-lending. As a result, numerous property taxes went unpaid, requiring Wayne County and the city of Detroit to foreclose many properties – literally a death sentence. It appears that these neighborhoods had literally “run out of time.”

In the midst of my education re: Detroit’s problems, I came across this quote from someone who, obviously, was/is very prescient regarding Detroit’s place in the history of this country:

“In the evolutionary urban order, Detroit today has always been your town tomorrow.”

In a related vein, I am reminded of the little garden signs one often sees staked in the dirt of small gardens to which I add a bit of paraphrase:

There is a season for everything (including things, ideas, places, and people).

How true!

A sidebar on curiosity

What else sticks to my ribs now that this post is written? What began as a straight-forward effort to get to know the decorated fighter pilot ace, Urban Leonard Drew, led me to another interesting story line concerning his boyhood neighborhood – a place that, like her celebrated son, had its time to shine. I was curious about that part of his story, so I checked it out and I learned more than I bargained for!

These sorts of serendipitous connections happen often once I set out to tackle a proposed subject for a new post. Why? Because of a natural curiosity that runs through my veins and spurs me on to learn just a little more. Albert Einstein, himself, attributed most of his success in physics to a rampant natural curiosity that drove him to peel back yet another layer of nature’s secrets at times when he could have, instead, coasted comfortably on his many existing laurels.

Over the years, I have come to deeply appreciate that a restless curiosity is a great God-given gift – for any of us – and not everyone has it. The central theme of any book on improving childhood learning and success in school should emphasize the importance of curiosity. A pound of it will take one a long way on their quest for success and happiness. A ton of it may produce another Einstein!

The Collings Foundation’s 2019 “Wings of Freedom Tour”

In a few weeks, the familiar and unmistakable drone of World War II heavy bombers will be heard once again in the skies over-head. I am already getting excited! It is time for the annual reappearance of the Wings of Freedom Tour at nearby Moffett Field. Moffett will be one of many stops across America for the tour and its priceless collection of beautifully restored, vintage aircraft.

The stated mission of this annual tour is two-fold: first, to restore and preserve vintage aircraft in flying condition; second, to pay tribute to those who flew in the war while insuring that future generations will be reminded of those veteran’s experiences and sacrifices. The war years of 1941-1945 were, on balance, undoubtedly the worst of times; yet in many smaller ways, they were also the best of times for this country. The book, The Greatest Generation, by Tom Brokaw reflects the uniqueness of the times and the generation who lived them.

While I have no personal affiliation with the Collings Foundation, whatsoever, I wholeheartedly support their mission to insure that the contrasts and the color of those times are never lost to future generations. I write this endorsement of their tour strictly as an act of appreciation and thanks.

I especially look forward to re-visiting the Wings tour this year because I had the great, good fortune last Memorial Day to fly the Foundation’s most iconic warbird, the P-51D Mustang. For one glorious half-hour, I had the ability to take the rear seat controls of that beautiful bird under the watchful eye of pilot Nick, seated up-front. I posted, here, on that experience last year: it and other related posts can be located by entering “Mustang” in the search box on the top right of my home page.

My flight in Toulouse Nuts was the thrill of a lifetime for someone like me interested in aviation – especially the warbirds from World War II. The Collings tour offers anyone the chance to go up in one of several iconic airplanes that played a pivotal role in the war. A half-hour ride in the P-51D will cost you $2400, but a half-hour adventure aboard the B-17 Flying Fortress or the B-24 Liberator bomber runs $450. A nominal fee of $15 for adults and $5 for children, enables you to crawl at your leisure through the bombers mentioned for an up-close-and-personal ground adventure!

If you have not visited the Collings Wings of Freedom Tour, Google it on the internet to see if it will be coming your way this summer. Take your children and treat them to an eye-opening reality-experience that will make a lasting impression. The following photo says it all for me:

A veteran who flew on B-24’s provides a living link to hundreds of kids who are learning that a knowledge of history has far more to offer them than spending still more social media time on the internet. If you visit the tour this year, chances are that you will still encounter a veteran volunteer docent who was there decades ago and can relate, first-hand, what it was like to fly these great warbirds which won the war for freedom. Sadly, as each year passes, fewer of these folks are still with us who can pass on their memories and their realities to the next generation.

The B-24 Liberator, Witchcraft – the last one flying

The airplane in the background of the above picture is the very last of its kind still flying: The storied B-24, Witchcraft. The B-24 Liberator had the highest production run of any airplane in history – approximately 18,500 were built! Such a large number supports two facts: first, the importance of this, our largest, long-range bomber; second, the huge losses suffered during countless bombing runs over Germany. Given these facts, I deeply appreciate that the Collings Foundation does what it does to “keep ‘em flying,” as they say, while preserving this precious heritage for future generations to experience.

Go hear for yourself the sound of the B-24’s four piston engines coughing, smoking, and belching to life during engine startup. See for yourself that big bird lift off the runway, straining for altitude. Go crawl through the belly of the beast and see what its crews faced at thirty-thousand feet with freezing cold during six-hour missions into Germany and back (if lady-luck was with them that day)!

While you are at it, check out the signature, raspy/throaty roar of the twelve-cylinder, 1600+ horsepower Rolls-Royce Merlin engine as it catapults the P-51D Toulouse Nuts into the air on take-off. The P-51D was the greatest fighter of the war, bar-none! Its introduction to service as a long-range bomber escort in late 1943 saved countless bomber crews who would otherwise have gone down at the hands of German pilots. Aside from its unmatched ability to escort the bombers deep into Germany and back again, the P-51 proved superior to any fighter/interceptor in the German arsenal. Many nine and ten-man bomber crews developed a great fondness and admiration for their P-51 escorts – their “little friends,” as they called them.

Go catch the tour and see for yourself: you won’t be sorry that you did!

World War II Aviation at the Lyon Air Museum

While visiting our daughter and two granddaughters at Christmas, I received a very nice Christmas present from them: an afternoon at the Lyon Air Museum, in Southern California! The Lyon Air Museum is located at Irvine’s John Wayne Airport and contains many vintage World War II airplanes, all beautifully restored, most in flying condition. In addition to the airplanes, many other vintage conveyances from the era are displayed, including one of Adolph Hitler’s personal staff cars, presumably used by him to ride into Paris after conquering the French in 1939.

One of the museum’s prized flying airplanes is the B-17 heavy bomber, Fuddy Duddy. The tradition of painted “nose art” on World War II aircraft was prevalent particularly on heavy bombers such as the B-17 “Flying Fortress” and the B-24 “Liberator.” These four-engine, long-range bombers were as instrumental to the defeat of Germany as any weapons in the U.S. arsenal. The B-17 earned its renown by destroying much of Germany’s military and civilian infrastructure, flying out of large air fields located in the English countryside.

I relished the afternoon we spent in the museum with our girls, not only because I have long appreciated the history of World War II aviation, but also because I had a rare chance to give my grand-daughters an up-close-and-personal awareness of another time, the “greatest generation,” and aviation’s important role in defining the path of world history. There is no substitute for experiencing, up-close, the mystique of these great airplanes in order to appreciate their role in that history.

Peering up into the underbelly of Fuddy Duddy through the crew entry hatch is bound to stimulate any teen-ager’s appreciation of the courage it took for crew-members to clamber up inside such a large, complex airplane for dangerous mission after mission over enemy territory. So many crews and men never made it to the magic mark of twenty-five completed missions which would give them a one-way ticket back home, perhaps to become a flying instructor training pilot-recruits. Many thousands of B-17 and B-24 crew members went down in the gunsights of swift and deadly German fighter planes whose mission was to intercept and destroy the “heavies.” And there were the thousands of huge, long barreled German flak guns on the ground, poised and ready to fill the high skies with exploding shell fragments, any one of which could rip apart men and machines alike.

It was gratifying to observe the curiosity and interest which quickly developed as we began our tour of the museum! Soon after we started at the B-17, we spent a half-hour in the museum’s mini-movie theatre to watch a film documentary on the air war over Europe which included much aerial footage and commentary from Andy Rooney. Rooney was the long-time, now deceased, CBS commentator on 60 Minutes. During the war, he served as a war correspondent experiencing, first hand, the B-17 during actual missions. I was pleased to note that the film was one included in my personal DVD collection of worthy war documentaries; one cannot help but be impressed by the viewing experience!

A museum docent approached us as we examined the B-17 and produced two dummy bullets to illustrate the fire-power of the thirteen .50 caliber machine guns positioned at six locations around the airplane. Alongside the .50 caliber sample, the .22 bullet looks downright puny, and, yet, these airplanes were still very vulnerable to German fighter interceptors until late 1943 when the fabled P-51 Mustang fighter was introduced which could escort the bombers deep into German territory and back. The .50 caliber machine guns on the B-17 fired thirteen rounds per second, all fed from long cartridge belts. After a protracted aerial battle with German interceptors, the waist gunners stationed inside the fuselage at both sides of the airplane were typically ankle-deep in empty brass shells ejected from hot, rapidly firing guns!

One of Hitler’s several Mercedes Benz personal staff cars –likely the one in which he entered Paris after the Nazi victory in France.

A sign on the wall provided a summary of the debt owed to the men of the Mighty Eighth Air Force which operated B-17’s out of England. Among its stats:

“Hitler started boasting that he converted Europe into an impregnable fortress. But he neglected to provide that fortress with a roof.” Franklin D. Roosevelt, message to Congress, September 17, 1943.

-2,300,000 sorties flown
-24,228 enemy aircraft downed
-350,000 served in the Eighth Air Force.
-47,742 killed in action.
-696,351 tons of bombs dropped.

Of course, these numbers pertain only to the Eighth Air Force, not including the other arms of the Army Air Force and their theatres of operation.

Douglas A-26 Attack Bomber

North American Aviation AT-6 Trainer

Douglas DC-3: The backbone of the airline industry

 

All in all, we had a very fine afternoon at Irvine’s Lyon Air Museum. I heartily recommend it for adults and youngsters, alike! Our thanks to the spirit and generosity of Gen. William Lyon for preserving this important collection and for making it available to the general public.

Time to say goodbye: our Southwest Airlines 737 pulls into the gate at John Wayne Airport for the trip home.

Toulouse Nuts: Flying the Collings Foundation P-51D Mustang (Post-Script)

This post-script to my Reason and Reflection blog post of June 1, 2018 is intended to add some additional details regarding my flight on the Collings Foundation P-51 Mustang, Toulouse Nuts, on May 28, 2018 – Memorial Day.
Flying a P-51 had long topped my personal “bucket-list.” I begin by briefly reconstructing parts of two older blog posts to provide some background.

On July 6, 2016, I posted this on my blog:

The Iconic P-51 Mustang: The Fighter That Destroyed
Hitler’s Luftwaffe and Won the War

Last month, I had yet another opportunity to ride in and fly one of the most iconic military aircraft of all time, the North American P-51 Mustang. Sadly, it did not happen. Maybe next year!

I ended that post with the following:

Perhaps next year, when the Collings Foundation tour returns, I will have an extra $2200 to go up in Betty Jane as well as the requisite moxie to do so. I cannot think of a greater, more meaningful thrill.

Sadly, “next year” came and hurtled by without even a visit to nearby Moffett Airfield to see the annual visit of the Collings Foundation Wings of Freedom tour.

Back in March of this year, with “P-51” still in my mind’s eye and at the top of my bucket-list, I visited the Collings Foundation website and discovered that the venerable Betty Jane, their P-51C Mustang, was undergoing a ground-up restoration/upgrade. That was the bad news. The good news: the foundation’s new P-51D, Toulouse Nuts was coming with the tour to Moffett in late May.

The “D” version of the P-51 became the iconic manifestation of the storied fighter. Like the Betty Jane, Toulouse Nuts is one of the world’s handful of flying, dual-control Mustangs that enable the passenger to control the airplane from the rear seat. For me, a tremendous advantage of the “D” over the earlier “A” thru “C” versions is the bubble canopy which offers unobstructed, panoramic views fore, aft, sideways and up from the cockpit.

There is a saying among pilots that “an airplane that looks good, generally flies good!” The P-51 Mustang lends full credence to that contention. Its war record and the loyalty earned from the thousands who flew her in air-to-air combat with the Germans and came back alive provide ample testimony. And she is just plain good-looking… on the ground and in the air!

On March 23, 2018, I posted this:

My Father’s Enduring Legacy: A Love of Aviation…
And a Prized Painting on Glass

My father was a most remarkable man. Today, at seventy-seven years of age, I have surpassed his longevity by one year. Even at this advanced age, my appreciation of him and his legacy continues to grow with passing time. There is much I could say about my father’s innate personal honesty, integrity, ambition, and commitment to excellence in all things, but I choose to dedicate this post to one particular aspect of his life and passion: His love of aviation and airplanes.

Here is the most important, early manifestation of that legacy for me, personally: a painting of his which is prominent in my earliest recollections of childhood.

I can still visualize this painting hanging on my bedroom wall in Chicago, Illinois when I was a youngster of six or seven. Today, this brilliantly created image hangs proudly in my den, high on the wall. Often, when in a pensive mood, I look upward and turn toward this painting for reflection, inspiration, and a renewed sense of longevity and permanence, qualities so absent in today’s peripatetic world. Few memories of mine go further back in time than this depiction of a furious World War I dogfight painted by my teen-age father around 1934/35. Correspondingly, few “things” in my life have been with me for as long as this little gem, painted on the back of glass using ordinary house-paints! My father’s family had no money for artist’s materials, so he did the best he could with what he had. His life-long ability to produce exceptional results in any endeavor is already evident in the clean, precise lines and brilliant images he produced while painting on the back of glass – a very difficult medium, indeed.

I concluded that post as follows:

The Legacy Continues!

My enthusiasm for aviation is hardly satisfied at this late date; there are still so many books on my shelves and stories waiting in the wings. Most significantly, both my curiosity about and my fascination with this life-long legacy of aviation gifted to me by my Father, Alfred Chester Kubitz, are still running strong. Time is running short, now, but the skies still beckon!

That last sentence, “Time is running short, now, but the skies still beckon!” soon proved to be a catalyst for me. My perusal of that statement after the post was published served to rejuvenate my quest for “the P-51 experience” which would become a reality in the cloudless, cobalt-blue sky over Livermore Municipal Airport on May 28, 2018 – Memorial Day.

Now, there were only two obstacles: the $2200 ticket-to-ride and the requisite moxie “to just go for it!”

The paraphrased quote from Mark Twain mentioned in my original post proved the antidote to cogitating any further about item number one on my bucket-list of things to do before I leave this world:

“You will regret most the things in life you did not do, not the things you did.”

Amen. Damn the torpedos: go for it!

I dialed-up the Collings Foundation in late March to assure myself that I had plenty of time to reserve my half-hour, adventure-of-a-lifetime on Toulouse Nuts. I was quite certain that reserving a week ahead of time would suffice. We had planned a trip to Irvine, California to visit our daughter for a few days about a week and a half before the Wings of Freedom tour was arriving at Moffett Field; there would be plenty of time to reserve a flight.

Who Invited Back Spasms to the Party?

Not in my plans, however, were the back spasms that suddenly hit me one morning while on the road – the result of abandoning my daily exercise regimen while traveling. This bout was worse than most I had in the past, and I spent the remainder of the trip barely able to move about. Back at home, I thought a few days rest there would solve my problem, but such was not the case. There was simply no way I was going to be able to clamber up onto the wing and into the cramped cockpit of a P-51 with a bad back. Finally, after a few more days passed, my back improved, but it was still questionable. And then the weather was cloudy and overcast for yet a few more days, hardly ideal for such a milestone flight. As my back condition and the weather were both finally improving, the tour and Toulouse Nuts were ready to move on to their next tour stop – Livermore, California, some fifty miles north of here. I called Collings in the hope that they might have a last-minute flight-time open prior to packing-up at Moffett and heading for Livermore, but, alas, it was not to be. Apparently, my P-51 flight experience was not happening this year, either, despite my determined decision to actually do it and my best efforts to make it happen! It was more than disappointing. Depressing was a more apt description given the vagaries of the variables involved: me not getting any younger, and the ever-present uncertainties regarding vintage aircraft. Despite the fine track record of the Collings Foundation, there was no guarantee that Toulouse Nuts would be available and ready to fly the tour next year. And there certainly was no guarantee that I would be present and ready to fly! I resigned myself to the realization that the top item on my personal bucket-list would remain in-place for at least another year.

Livermore Municipal Airport – The Tour’s Next Stop

As luck would have it, Linda and I had planned to drive north to the town of Pleasanton on Sunday, May 27th, the day before Memorial Day. The main street of the quaint town would play host to dozens of antique and collectibles dealers, stretching for blocks through town – all part of the annual antique fair held there and an event we had enjoyed in the past. By that time, my back was feeling much better. The evening before heading to Pleasanton, I recalled the fact that the Collings tour’s next stop after Moffett Field was Livermore Municipal Airport. Knowing that Livermore was somewhere in the general vicinity of Pleasanton, I checked the map. Indeed, the airport at Livermore was no more than a fifteen-minute drive from where we would be. Linda agreed that, after spending the morning antiquing in Pleasanton, we should head over to catch the Wings of Freedom tour at Livermore.

After getting a bit lost on the way over, we arrived at Livermore Municipal Airport, a beautiful, small-scale layout located amid picturesque hills and grassy plains – an almost pastoral scene as opposed to the huge concrete expanses of Moffett Field. Sure enough, there were our old friends, the vintage B-17 bomber Nine ‘O Nines, and the venerable B-24 Liberator, Witchcraft, the last one of its genre still flying (18,500 built in total). Linda and I first attended the tour back in 2013 at Moffett Field, and we clambered at our leisure though every nook and cranny of both airplanes – a delightful and eye-opening experience! We purposely went early on a weekday morning when we had the airplanes to ourselves. An added attraction at Livermore this year was a B-25 Mitchell medium-range, twin-engine bomber also owned by the Collings Foundation.

As we walked up to the entrance to pay the nominal admission charge, a very large big-band ensemble of young musicians struck-up Glenn Miller’s timeless hit from the early 40’s, In the Mood. That was a total surprise which immediately put us “in the mood” for the whole afternoon. There were flags, music, hot dogs, and all things requisite for a memorable Memorial Day holiday. Linda and I decided right then and there that we loved the atmosphere and that this was the way to see the Wings of Freedom tour!

And there, on the tarmac, was Toulouse Nuts, the P-51D that remained stubbornly stuck in the recesses of my mind. She was obviously busy taking lucky folks with a flight appointment and $2200 up for a ride and the thrill of a lifetime.

I decided then and there that it was now or never for me. We went over to the flight desk and asked if there were any openings for that afternoon. Alas, the answer was no. “How about tomorrow – Memorial Day?” I asked. The girl at the desk said she had an opening at 11:00 am and late in the day at 5:00. I looked at Linda: “Would you like to drive back here, tomorrow?” We decided we would, and I jumped at the 11:00 slot.

Memorial Day, May 28, 2018

The next morning dawned bright and warm across the entire San Francisco Bay Area. The temperature would be in the low 90’s that afternoon at Livermore. After a fifty-minute drive north, we pulled into the friendly airport grounds, easily parked the car, and headed for the tarmac and the planes parked there. At 10:15 am, the holiday crowd was beginning to grow. The cloudless sky was a brilliant cobalt blue: a perfect day for flying if ever there was one! As we passed through the entry gates, I noticed Toulouse Nuts pulling away from its parking spot on the tarmac and heading for the taxi-way and runway. I could discern a passenger in the rear seat – apparently the 10:00 appointment which preceded mine. I felt a rush of excitement in anticipation of soon going up and flying that iconic P-51 warbird. In less than two minutes, my heart fell, almost with a thud, as I spotted Toulouse Nuts working its way back up the taxi-way to its parking spot on the tarmac.

I knew immediately that something serious was wrong, and that my opportunity to fly that afternoon was surely in jeopardy. I could only hope that, perhaps, the passenger had second thoughts after being securely strapped in the cramped cockpit and experiencing, first-hand, the sights, the sounds, and the exhaust smell of that powerful Rolls-Royce/Packard Merlin engine. Alas, that was not the case. The passenger was soon out of the plane standing patiently nearby while the pilot, and a few extra hands conferred. In short order, the pilot and two others began removing aluminum panels from the nose of the airplane. From outside the roped-off security area, Linda and I could only guess as to what the problem might be. A half-hour went by and then an hour…and the sun was heating up the tarmac as work continued on the airplane. We sought relief in the shade provided by the huge wing of the B-24, Witchcraft, parked nearby. Finally, I went back to the roped perimeter and motioned for the “stranded” passenger to come over and tell me what he knows. He introduced himself as “John,” an older man in his seventies (like me), I would guess. He did not know the nature of the problem, except that it would likely take a while if a solution is even possible. I asked if he intended to “wait it out” as the scenario played itself out well into the second hour. His response: “Yes, I’ll wait. For me, it’s now or never.”

Linda and I would wait as well, harboring much the same feelings expressed by John. By the third hour, the pilot (and apparently chief mechanic for the day) came over to us and explained there was a problem with the indicated fuel pressure to the engine. They were not sure whether the problem was with the fuel pump and its system or with the dashboard gauge-indicator, but they were working to determine the exact cause. During that brief conversation, I was very impressed with this pilot and his demeanor, but, given the circumstances, my hopes for flying in that warbird on Memorial Day, 2018, sunk to a new low at that moment. “What are the odds that this handful of folks and the pilot would be able to fix this crippled bird anytime soon?” I thought to myself. It seemed that a mechanic familiar with this warbird and possibly some replacement part would be mandatory for any realistic chance.

Just to satisfy my curiosity, I asked the pilot whether he travels with the Collings tour and what credentials are generally required to fly a warbird like the P-51. His response: “I live in the area and I own a Mustang!” My response: “That will work!” I am well aware that the significant brotherhood of people who own Mustangs not only fly them, but know them quite intimately from an operational/maintenance standpoint. Furthermore, many of these owners, scattered across the U.S., know each other personally and each other’s airplanes, as well. The brotherhood of Mustang owners is quite exclusive given the reality that purchasing a P-51 in flying condition carries a price tag of at least 1.2 million dollars, not to mention the expense required to house and maintain a warbird like that in top condition! The fact that this pilot owned his own Mustang would explain why he, his grown son (also flying that day as an alternate), and a few others felt confident in attacking the fuel pressure problem. Fairly quickly, they had several aluminum covers removed from the nose area exposing the engine; these were carefully laid-out on the tarmac. There was even an attractive lady in nice clothing out there helping by moving ladders and passing tools up to the men at work. She later told us that she was a friend of the pilot. All the while, this proud warbird sat forlornly on the tarmac like a bird with clipped wings, unable to fly!

Despite the long odds, I had this vague feeling deep inside that Linda and I should wait this out – that this might all work out…somehow! Fueling those vague hopes was the confidence conveyed by the pilot’s demeanor and the image of father, son, and lady friend working with a couple of others so diligently out there on the tarmac under a blazing sun. That tableau represented “complete dedication and commitment” as far as I was concerned.

Another hour passed, and the pilot informed us that he believed the low fuel pressure indication was due to a faulty gauge, not a fuel system problem. He went on to add that they were trying to find a replacement gauge! Although my immediate thought could have been, “The local P-51 parts store is not open on Memorial Day,” my gut-feel told me to wait and see: keep the faith. Linda and I decided to pass more of our waiting time by having a Coke and a hot-dog (grilled by the local Knights of Columbus – another very nice touch at Livermore). We ventured over to a picnic table situated away from the airplanes and the tarmac, ate our “lunch” and passed some time talking with some folks.

It was now about 2:45 pm and our time was running short. We were scheduled to bring dinner to our daughter, son-in-law, and grandsons in time to see the tip-off of a key NBA playoff game involving the Golden State Warriors (who ultimately won the title). The problem: the nice dinner prepared by Linda was at home in the refrigerator; we would have to run home, pick up the dinner, and retrace our steps back north to my daughter’s home in San Mateo. Another hour at Livermore and that would not be possible, time-wise.

As the time approached 3:00, I decided now is the time to go over to the flight desk and just cancel the flight reservation which was beginning to look futile, anyway. Besides, there was John, the 10:00 passenger who was in line before me with a one-hour flight scheduled and equally determined, so it seemed, to “wait it out.” As we turned the corner and approached the flight desk, I heard a voice exclaim, “There he is!” Our P-51 pilot was standing there with a cardboard box in his hand. “We’ve got the gauge,” he said. When I inquired about the 10:00 passenger, they replied, “You are up-next! Apparently, John had given up earlier and left after canceling. “How long will it take to put in the gauge?” I asked. “About fifteen minutes,” was the reply. Without hesitation, my response was, “Well, let’s go then!”

The reality was more like one-half hour before being informed that the gauge was installed and the problem was, indeed, verified to be a faulty fuel pressure gauge. All looked good to go with the replacement! I gave Linda a hug and a kiss, ducked inside the roped security perimeter and clambered up the wing and into the cockpit. Once both legs are in the cockpit, one settles one’s behind on a parachute pack which doubles as the seat pad between you and the harsh steel “chair” bolted to the airframe. You are then helped with fastening the leg and shoulder straps on the chute prior to strapping into the military-strength harness restraint which affixes you to the seat and airframe. In case of emergency, the red canopy release lever on the lower right side is identified and exiting the plane is explained. To bail-out, you are instructed to unfasten the restraint harness straps (not those of the parachute!), release the canopy, and dive, head down, toward the back of the wing. Last and not least, one must pull the steel rip-cord handle, prominent, there, on your chest in order to deploy the ‘chute!

I thought to myself, “Unlike what so often happens with commercial aviation passengers, anyone with an attention-span problem during this ‘safety briefing’ really has no business going up in a warbird.”

At this point, I need to comment on the pilot and his son. It was the son who would be taking me up in Toulouse Nuts. I believe the dad’s name is Steve, and his son is Nicholas, or “Nick.” I asked the dad’s name earlier, and I believe he told me, “Steve.” I regret that, in the midst of such excitement and activity, I cannot be more confident of names, here. I will go with my best recollection from here on in the story!

An intercom headset is handed you with instructions for communicating with the pilot, and the big moment arrives. Nick, the son, volunteered to take me up so that his dad could relax and cool down after his strenuous efforts to get the P-51 flying again. His dad said to me, “He’ll take you up: he’s better than me.”

Nick went through his check-list and finally looked to verify all was clear of the propeller. The big four-bladed prop slowly turned, once, twice, and then three times before the big Merlin engine came to life, coughing and belching smoke a bit as the whole canopy shook. That was a magical moment for me, because I fully understand the legendary mystique between this iconic airplane and the Rolls-Royce/Packard Merlin V-12 inline engine which enabled this airframe to reach its full wartime potential as a deadly fighter plane. People who really know say there is nothing like the sound of that engine, whether on the ground or in the air.

As the engine of Toulouse Nuts settled into what should be a steady, raspy purr, I could detect that something was not right. The engine seemed to run slightly unevenly even to my untrained ears. Soon, Nick cut the ignition and the prop came to a stop. There was a brief comment exchanged with his dad, Steve, and others standing off to the side. Then a restart with essentially the same results. Once again, Nick killed the ignition. At this point, I really began to worry, thinking that, perhaps, there was something wrong with the fuel pump or the fuel system. I reckoned it would be a devastating disappointment should this warbird be grounded today after all my efforts. Even worse, of course, would be any engine malfunction once off the ground.

I mentioned my concern to Nick over the intercom. He told me his dad felt that the only issue is air in the fuel line stemming from the gauge replacement. I have seen this effect often in my home plumbing after turning off the water for a while and turning it back on. The water will spurt and splash from open faucets as captured air is gradually bled from the system. Nick and his dad felt confident that running up the engine for a few minutes on the tarmac should clear the fuel system of trapped air. As we sat there with engine running, I could readily discern the rough spots soon smooth out and disappear as the big Merlin began to purr, accompanied by the characteristic raspy crackle.

 

Heading out for the taxi-way

A thumbs-up between Nick and Steve and we were off onto the taxiway, heading for the runway and the hard-earned realization of my fondest wish. Within a minute or two we were poised at the end of the runway as Nick revved up the engine. I liked everything I heard, and so did Nick. At that, the brakes came off and Toulouse Nuts “took off” down the runway, literally and figuratively. The insistent pull of that big four-bladed propeller was impressive. Quickly, the tail lifted, then there was a slight lift-off sensation followed by a momentary hesitation in momentum (likely the landing gear retracting) followed immediately by a steep climb and sharp bank to the right, reminiscent of a roller coaster ride. It was as if Toulouse Nuts were telling me, “I am going to show you what I can do – right off the bat!” Impressive it was, indeed. Now we are heading parallel to the runway, high and off to the side, high-tailing it back past our starting point on the runway, then settling back down while banking hard right before lining up and executing a high-speed, low altitude pass directly over the runway for the benefit of the crowd (and me) before heading sharply up into that cobalt-blue sky and my thrill-of-a-lifetime – the opportunity to fly a P-51D warbird.

A low-pass over the runway!

Nick and me, post-flight!

My half-hour in Toulouse Nuts was worth the ticket-to-ride and all the considerable effort it took on my part to make it happen. After landing and taxiing back to the tarmac, I realized how lucky I had been. I offered my heartfelt thanks to Nick and his dad Steve for the ride and the experience, yes. I also made clear my tremendous gratitude for “saving the day” through their determined efforts not only to diagnose and fix the faulty fuel pressure gauge, but also to somehow come up with the appropriate replacement part, seemingly out of thin air – a miracle! After all, the P-51 stores are all closed on Memorial Day! As Steve walked off toward the airplane with the replacement gauge in-hand, I questioned out loud at the flight desk just how Steve found a replacement gauge under such unlikely circumstances. The girl at the flight desk remarked of Steve, “He knows a lot of people.” Apparently, he was able to telephone a fellow Mustang owner in the area who thought he had a spare fuel pressure gauge in his parts inventory. Somehow, it was located and delivered to the field just in the nick of time to salvage my dream. Indeed, the owner of a beautiful, polished aluminum P-51 had flown his airplane earlier in the day. Could that be the same fellow?

In closing, my wife, Linda, related afterward how worried she became when it was clear that the big Merlin engine was not running properly at the very beginning of the start-up sequence. Why was Nick stopping and restarting the engine accompanied by consultations with his dad, Steve? It so happened that Linda was standing next to the aforementioned lady friend of Steve’s as they watched the proceedings. She leaned over to Linda and said, “Don’t worry, he’s in good hands!” And, indeed I was.