With a desire to catch a glimpse of anything to do with these beautiful, flying examples of soaring works of art, I took the opportunity to take my lovely young grandson to see his first air show.

It was a superb, sunny day; everyone was enjoying the splendid, well-organised gathering of machines and sideshows.

The commentators were excellent, describing these wonderful machines to the adoring public. Everyone was so happy to be a part of the spectacle unfolding before them.

The display of the Battle of Britain dogfight was thrilling and beyond all my expectations. This, together with the air raid sirens and commentary, was, in my opinion, outstanding.

I will never forget seeing the stricken Hurricane disappear behind a small hill.

Everyone seemed to be frozen, just waiting for the aeroplane to emerge, being chased by an enemy aircraft.

We waited for what seemed an eternity. It did not emerge. Only a large plume of black smoke rose from there, accompanied by a dull thud and an explosion.

Everyone just stared after a sea of gasps rang around the arena, followed by an eerie silence.

I turned to the lady behind me, not really taking in what had happened and looking for assurance, hoping that everything was going to be okay.

I said: "That wasn't supposed to happen, was it?" My poor grandson looked in disbelief and piped up: "Is he going to be all right, granddad?"

I just tearfully explained to him that that was not part of the show and, unfortunately, he might have died. The blank expression on his face will stay with me forever.

My heart goes out to the relatives of the pilot (Brian Brown] and to all those brave ambassadors of the sky who push the machines and themselves to the limit, just so we can share their passion.

We both decided that we would be attending this year, no matter what, as a tribute to the pilot and for our ultimate desire for more entertainment of flying wizardry and professionalism.

John C. Mills
via email

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