“Helen, 52, took him to Gloucestershire Airport where the vintage planes were being maintained by the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight crew.
“She posted a poignant photo of the RAF veteran on Facebook as Mr Farlow sat in his wheelchair gazing through the fence at the striking aircraft on the runway.
The heartwarming image was spotted by the airport director of operations – who was so moved he invited him for a VIP visit.
The grandfather, from Painswick, spent hours talking to the pilots and ground crew, who were captivated by his stories.
Speaking yesterday of his visit, he said: ‘I’m so relieved and so happy I have done this. It’s a wish come true.’
One of the last of the greatest generation!
The RAF – The Battle of Britain – where Western Civilization was saved.
I’m glad old airman got his last wish granted in such a classy way.
They were all young boys. We can’t possibly compare that generation with today’s.
Sadly, that’s all too true.
I was fortunate to be able to get my dad and boys a ride in a Catalina at Taupo some years ago (included a water landing on the lake). He was ex RNZAF and had flown in lots of WW2 while in the islands stuff but never a Cat. He liked it very much but did say the engines sounded rough and he and his mechanics would have had them sounding better in 1944 – always the professional. I’m pleased the Cat is now airworthy again – wife wants a ride in it.
I got to fly in an old USAF DC-3 “Goony Bird” from Clark, AFB in the Philippines to Hong Kong in the summer of 1968.
Yes, the Air Force still had a fleet of the WW II birds still on active duty in those days – airplanes that were as old as the pilots who flew them -and were found to be quite useful on the dirt runways of Southeast Asia, or as air taxis to ferry troops and supplies to various bases.
Of course, military flights are pretty Spartan and the seats were these canvas affairs only the sides of the cabin. There were no seats excpt for the pilots and crew. Meals were K rations and the USAF always had plenty of Ks – especially “ham and lima beans” that everyone hated, but the G.I. coffee was always good and hot. There were no stews with the cheerful smiles and tight dresses, just an old air force master sergeant whose “service” consisted of “Boys, the coffee this way and the bathroom is that way – and if I catch any of you Army grunts trying get into the flight deck – that’s the cockpit for you ground pounders – you get to fly to Hong Kong all on your own without the airplane.”
Yes, the noise in the cabin was terrible – military cargo and transport planes have little in the way of noise reduction – and in the WW II era they had even less – so my buddy is literally screaming into my ear, “Hey Ron, I wonder if this old plane dropped paratroopers over France on D-Day?” I scream back into his ear, “At least we don’t have to worry about Luftwaffe, or the flak guns.” He screamingly responds, “Yeah, but what about the Red Chinese MIGS?”
The rest of the passengers only someone yelling about “MIGS!” and post themselves at the windows looking for the Red Air Force – and see nothing but clouds above and waves below.
Anyhow, after about eight hours of flying low and slow over the Far Eastern Pacific, we reach Hong Kong without spotting any CHICOM fighter jets. The pilot gives us some great views of the city – in fact, a low and slow scenic tour of Hong Kong – while in a holding pattern that lasted about an hour – apparently the USAF was low priority in Hong Kong – and at last we have wheels down and are allowed to taxi to edge of Hong Kong International airport – and forgotten…for about another hour.
Then a strange looking British military truck rolls over and the driver shouts, “Are you the Yanks with the hush-hush gear?” I reply, “How did you know? I guess being the only ancient military aircraft at the airport was a dead giveaway.” The Brit soldier smiles and says, “Lucky guess, heh? Hop aboard. Fish and chips at the mess this evening.”
So we load up the gear and our tired bods on the British weapons carrier, as the flight engineer yells to the pilot, “Sir, there is so little fuel in the tanks that it doesn’t even register on the dip stick. The damn gas gauge is out again.”
I’d tell you what we were doing in Hong Kong, but then I’d have to shoot you.
“I’d tell you what we were doing in Hong Kong, but then I’d have to shoot you.”
The men who flew Catalinas in the Double Sunrise missions during WW2 were likewise bound to secrecy. One went into a store in his civvies and the storekeeper said ‘No cigarettes here for bludgers like you’.
Darn good story that – droning slowly along for hours on the edge of dangerous skies.
My Dad worked on Cats in Burma, India and Ceylon in the 1940s. Maybe not Cats in Burma, he was with some American outfit though. It was a Cat which, on long range recon, discovered whereabouts of the Jap fleet. Unfortunately my Dad never got to reacquaint himself with them later in life. We were considering taking a trip to the south coast where a Cat was being used in a show. The Cat hit a wave too hard while wave-hopping, it broke apart. Of all the aircraft ever built I would have a Cat. It’s range, reliability, land on water or ground, load bearing make it a true all rounder. It was a bloody good kite/boat.
As a child growing up I knew little of WW2 aircraft but always love the named “Spitfire!” It has to be the classiest and most descriptive name for a beautiful weapon. It actually goes further as it depicts the fight being plastered against the enemy with speed, deliberation and superb aggression.
After two weeks of federal elections and terrorism* this is the story that gives my spirits a much needed lift.
*I’m including Mr Comey’s wrist slap on Hillary there.
Cadwallader says:
“As a child growing up I knew little of WW2 aircraft but always love the named “Spitfire!” It has to be the classiest and most descriptive name for a beautiful weapon. It actually goes further as it depicts the fight being plastered against the enemy with speed, deliberation and superb aggression.”
The bravery of the Spitfire pilots – many of them boys of 18 or 19 just out of school, and given only a bare minimum of flying time prior to combat going up against Luftwaffe veterans with years of combat experience.
As if that weren’t bad enough, the Spitfire was armed with what many RAF pilots called “pop guns” – four .303 machine guns; whereas, the ME 109 sported a 20mm cannon and two 7.92mm machine guns.
It was like bringing a knife to a gun fight, nevertheless the Spitfire pilots came out on top at the endgame.
It comes down to speed,the Spitfire had almost 50 knots on the ME109.
Agility,it could bank and roll well inside the ME109,combine those two with pilots that are skilled and fighting for their lives and country and you have a formidable combination that makes up for lacking weaponry.
Given that the BritBrownie was a good weapon,pump enough holes into an airframe and you will hit something vital,if nothing else the pilot.
Yes, in the hands of a skilled pilot what you say is true, Darin.
However, during the Battle of Britain skilled RAF pilots were in short supply – and so the Brits were forced to send up inexperienced pilots who could barely fly, much less do aerial combat with veteran Luftwaffe aces.
Yes, later on in the war it was allies who became the killers of the air war in Europe, and it was the Germans who were forced to send up inexperienced doomed pilots in some pretty decent aircraft.
My favorite fighter of WW II was the P-51 Mustang with the Rolls Royce Merlin engine and six .50 caliber machine guns that was called “The Cadillac of Air” – and very likely the best prop fighter ever.
The P-51 was good, in fact, that when up against the ME 262 German jet, the Mustang often came out on top.
My favourite is the Typhoon.
A late friend of short acquaintance was a Spitfire pilot. He made his way up from N. Rhodesia to join up. He was one of two out of 47 like him, I think, who survived. He was shot down over France and sat out the rest of the war as a POW at Stalag Luft III. I believe he had some contact with the German who shot him down after the war. He said his interrogators knew the name of his dog.
The Queen sent him her best wishes on his 100th birthday last October. The fellows at the nearby RAF base flew some Tornadoes in formation over his nursing home to honor him. He died shortly after.
Forgive me if I told this before. I have a feeling I recounted this somewhere. Perhaps it’s in my mind so because of the kindness of all toward him.
Nice story, Col. Bunny. It’s good to see these old warriors honoured.
It’s the first time I have heard it,thanks for sharing, heroes like him live on because their memory is kept alive.