excerpt
Looking Back
LOOKING BACK The small village of Glenavon Saskatchewan suddenly appeared
ahead, nestled among the golden rectangular grain
fields 15,000 feet below, bathed in the brilliant mid-September
sunshine. I rolled the T-33 Silver Star into a steep dive, maneuvering
into position as I focused on the familiar landmarks. I began
easing out of the dive at 1000 feet, having spotted the school and
the figures of the pupils spilling out on the steps and the school
ground. The time was exactly 3:35 in the afternoon and classes
had just been dismissed. Perfect!
I pulled the screaming jet up tightly into a vertical climb directly
over the school, at the same time applying maximum power
and beginning a vertical roll. As the T-33 hurtled up at 450 miles
per hour I looked back over my shoulder at the rapidly receding
school and the homes and buildings surrounding it. Leveling out
at 8000 feet I rolled over and began another dive, coming at the
small village from the west with the sun on my back.
At 300 feet I began a tight, high speed, high power turn during
which I flew over my parent’s farmstead on the edge of town and
saw them and many of their neighbours standing in their front yards.
I completed the turn roaring back toward the school, this time at no
more than a 100 feet. Pulling up sharply over the school I rolled the
T-33 as I climbed eastward to intercept the final leg of my navigation
training flight, about 100 miles east of the planned turning point over
Weyburn, and from there to RCAF Station Portage La Prairie.
As I flew what remained of the exercise, the excitement of my
private performance over my old school, with my old friends
watching, gave way to the nostalgic realization that this was a personal
farewell to my youth. I was only slightly concerned about the
RCMP being in the vicinity of Glenavon and reporting the unauthorized
low flying since this usually resulted in immediate cessation
of pilot training. However, it was important to take the
chance. I knew that once I received pilot wings and began my career
as an RCAF officer, my life would forever diverge from that
which I shared with family and friends for the first 20 years of my
life.
In the years that followed, as the winds of fate carried me along,
my feelings for this province that my parents adopted and where I
was born, have remained intense. In writing this personal account
I have been able to journey back to my youth and to uncover many
of the reasons for this emotional relationship.
Mayanaam
vequinox
Manolis 