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MITSUBISHI A6M3-22 REISEN (ZERO)
NORTH AMERICAN P-51D MUSTANG
The FHC’s A6M3-22 Zero was all but destroyed on the ground at Babo airfield in New Guinea, most likely during an American air attack.
Some aircraft became the symbols of their nations during wartime, as was certainly the way with Great Britain’s Supermarine Spitfire. On the other side of the world, a navy
fighter aircraft became the prominent face of Japan’s war effort—from the attack on Pearl Harbor to the final desperate days of the kamikaze.
The story of the Mitsubishi A6M Zero naval fighter parallels that of Nakajima’s Oscar
in many ways. However, the Zero was a more dominant weapon at the start of the
fighting, it was somewhat more successfully upgraded than the Oscar, and the plane faded into obsolescence at a slower rate.
Both the Zero and Oscar followed in the footsteps of their fixed-gear older brothers. In the case of the Zero, it was the A5M carrier fighter designed by Mitsubishi. The Japanese Navy made their final specification for a new naval fighter in late 1937 based on combat reports coming back from the conflict in China. Among other requirements, the plane had to fly at over 311 mph, climb 9,840 feet in nine and a half minutes, cruise for up to eight hours with the use of drop tanks, carry two cannon and two machine guns, and be at least as maneuverable as the current frontline carrier fighter.
Mitsubishi’s chief designer, Jiro Horikoshi, thought the task was nothing short of
impossible. The aircraft that took shape over the months that followed was conventional in
appearance and construction for the time, yet amazingly light. Designers adhered to an extremely strict weight-savings doctrine: They addressed and chopped weight on every
part of the aircraft that was more than 1/100,000th of the final proposed weight of the fighter. Little by little, Mitsubishi’s designers found ways to shave precious kilograms, even grams, throughout the aircraft.
Some Zero fighters were modified to carry an additional passenger. The FHC’s aircraft is similar, with an elongated canopy to allow a second flyer to ride behind the pilot.
Other changes were more significant in making the plane nimble. The skin was made
from a high-tech duralumin alloy—aluminum alloyed with copper, manganese, and
magnesium. By comparison, an early Zero weighed 3,700 pounds empty while an
American Grumman Wildcat carrier fighter from the same period weighed over 2,000
pounds more, tipping the scales at 5,895 pounds.
Japanese ace Hiroyoshi Nishizawa, photographed in his A6M3-22 Zero near the Solomon Islands in 1943. He had eighty-seven victories to his credit when he was killed. A Japanese cargo plane Nishizawa was riding in was shot down by American fighters.
When it flew for the first time on April 1, 1939, the Zero met or surpassed most of the Japanese Navy’s “impossible” requirements. “The trim wing cut sharply through the air
and reflected the sunlight every time it turned over,” Horikoshi later wrote. “I was almost screaming, ‘It’s beautiful,’ forgetting for a moment, I was a designer.”
Cowling off, the Zero is checked one last time before its “first flight” since restoration in Wenatchee, Washington. When the fighter took to the skies in 2012, it was the first time the Zero had flown in nearly seventy years.
At the outbreak of war with the United States, the Zero was the most potent carrier
plane in the world. Speedy and agile, the Zero was the uncontested king of aerial combat in the Pacific for much of 1942. American pilots often had to work in pairs to defeat a single Zero in combat.
But like the Oscar, the Zero was fragile, with little in the way of protection in those early days. While Mitsubishi developed improved versions of the fighter, they were no
match for bigger, more powerful aircraft like the F6F Hellcat and F4U Corsair. By mid
war, the Zero was not only inferior to new American fighters, but the pool of skilled
Japanese fighter pilots had shrunk considerably due to terrible losses.
The FHC’s A6M3-22 Zero entered the war just as the tide began to turn against the
Zero and the nation of Japan. The plane left Mitsubishi in the summer of 1943 and was
most likely ferried into the New Guinea area through the Philippines. The hulk of the
plane was found at Babo Airfield on Irian Jaya in what is now the Indonesian half of New Guinea. Through 1943 and the first half of 1944, the area had been exposed to many
American bomber attacks and this plane was one of the unlucky aircraft that had been
damaged by bombs.
Not only had the area seen violent attacks, but also it was later bypassed by the Allies, leaving many remarkably intact wrecks and abandoned Japanese airplanes. Babo was
considered an almost mythical place in the eyes of aircraft salvagers by the 1970s and 1980s. A California aircraft salvager named Bruce Fenstermaker made a deal with local
officials to obtain aircraft relics from the airfield in the early 1990s.
Fenstermaker’s early actions in the area focused on an abandoned A6M3-22 Zero,
which would become known as serial number 3869. After location and sale to the Santa
Monica Museum of Flying (MOF), Fenstermaker and the MOF almost immediately
agreed to participate in a joint venture to acquire more aircraft from the site before Indonesia withdrew permission, or other salvagers were able to mount efforts of their own.
By 1991, the group had acquired a Betty bomber, a Judy carrier plane, a Tony fighter,
and parts of a Nick twin-engine fighter, and two other Zeros. The original Zero parts used in the rebuild of the FHC Zero reportedly came from this venture between the MOF and
Fenstermaker.
Moving back to front, painters look at their reference sheets to mimic the dark green stripes applied in the field. The paint goes on in chronological layers, with fresh coats sometimes obscuring intricate stencils that would have been applied at the Mitsubishi factory.
This close-up shows the two-piece cowling around the Zero’s engine. Distinctive latch covers are held in place with Dzus fasteners that join the bottom and top sections of the engine covering.
The FHC’s restoration and maintenance manager Jason Muszala guides the Zero under the photo plane in this dramatic shot.
Note the bulges in front of the cockpit to accommodate the plane’s pair of cowl-mounted Type 97 7.7mm machine guns.
The last version of the Zero made in large numbers was the A6M5-52. These planes are most recognizable by the series of exhaust stacks behind the engine cowling. This plane was captured by the US military and photographed during test flights.
With a lack of basic building materials in the area, the salvagers paid natives to make crates from teak logs and branches tied together with hemp rope. One commentary on the project even suggests that the materials were obtained through the sale of some of the locals’ homes, which were dismantled and reused as the unusual shipping “boxes.” Efforts to get the three Zeros took “close to six years, covered two continents, and consumed in excess of 300,000 man-hours before all were actually restored to flying condition,”
according to Bruce Lockwood, then MOF Director of Restoration.
The three Zeros hulks, in varying degrees of disrepair, arrived in California in June
1991. After research, the planes were assigned serial numbers 3869, 3858, and 3852 (the FHC Aircraft). All were in very bad condition—with bomb damage, bullet holes, and
years of corrosion from being exposed to the elements. As well, the skin and structure of each aircraft had been chopped away by the natives to make cooking utensils and
weaponry.
A blur of heat trails away from the Zero’s radial engine. Originally built with a Nakajima Sakae 21, restorers chose to equip the FHC’s example with a dependable R-1830. As a result, the plane has never missed a flying performance.
The sheer volume of work finally led the MOF to make a deal with Flight Magic Inc. of
Santa Monica to continue the restorations more efficiently. This group had ties with an organization in Russia that had produced replica Yakovlev Yak-3 fighters powered with
American Allison engines. The trio of Japanese fighters was transferred to Russia for
completion in 1994. At almost the same time, the MOF unearthed a nearly complete set of Zero plans, which made a full restoration a much easier proposition.
TIGER STRIPES
The FHC A6M3-22 Zero is a mid-war aircraft, so it doesn’t fall cleanly into the
category of either a sharp-looking Pearl Harbor-era Imperial Japanese Navy fighter, or an all dark-green A6M5s flying during the last phases of the conflict. Collection
staffers began to think that they could use the Zero’s paint scheme as a teaching tool, representative of Japan’s fortunes in the Pacific at the time.
What is now on view is actually two schemes in one. These planes came from the
factory looking one way and were quickly modified to meet the realities of operating
from remote island outposts often under attack by marauding American aircraft.
Ryan Toews, of the website J-aircraft.com, sent the FHC a tiny fragment of original, painted aircraft skin, no bigger than a fingernail. This miniscule shard of
aluminum helped staffers determine the precise light olive green color used by
Mitsubishi when the planes were delivered from the factory in Japan. The olive color
was sprayed on the aircraft to be followed by a multitude of factory-applied stencils
and data blocks.
There were other details to the factory scheme. One included mixing in a dose of
blue into the black cowling paint: Mitsubishi’s black paint is reported to have had a
slight blue tinge when viewed in the sunlight. Another had the FHC painters
mimicking the color of the control surfaces, painted separately, by mixing a special
batch of slightly lighter olive, masking off the rudder, ailerons, and flaps, and shooting them again.
After a few days, the plane looked like it had when it was delivered. It was now
time to mottle it up a little bit. The olive-colored aircraft were too difficult to hide at their island bases. The planes stood out when observed from above and became easy
targets. As a result, the order came down to cover the top surfaces with a dark shade
of green.
Individual units in the field carried out the order in different ways, which made for
an interesting search to find the best scheme. FHC staffers started referring to the
potential candidates by the characteristics of their camouflage—“turtle spots,” “the
giraffe,” and “the zebra,” among others. They settled on the one they called “tiger
stripes.”
The men of Air Group 251, based in the Rabaul area, chose to paint some of their
planes in bold vertical stripes. The majority of the work on the restored plane was
done by two different painters to replicate the look of the plane had it been shot by
two mechanics hurriedly moving down their line of aircraft. It was slightly painful to hold the paint gun, pull the trigger, and shoot dark green paint over some the detailed stencils and artwork applied only days before, but it was all in the name of
authenticity.
The Zero’s distinctive tiger stripes were applied by Japanese mechanics in the field after the planes proved too easy to spot on the ground at their island air bases. The plane’s unit markings were also partly obscured by the dark green paint.
The Zero’s cockpit is small but reasonably comfortable. Designers knew that A6M pilots would be flying up to eight hours over the vast reaches of the Pacific Ocean.
America unlocked the secrets of the vaunted Zero when one crash-landed during an attack in the Aleutian Islands. The plane was quickly rushed stateside for repair and technical evaluation.
The Zero has small folding wingtips that allowed it to comfortably fit in the elevators of Japanese aircraft carriers. The raised tips reduced the span of the fighter by about four feet but kept the plane light and simple.
Some original parts of each aircraft were used in the restorations, but since the planes were going to be flyable, “it would be mandatory that new materials and parts would have to be used in any area required to carry a structural load,” explained Lockwood.
The rebuilt Zeros were sent back to California in 1997. American engines were judged
much easier and cheaper to maintain than original Japanese Sakae powerplants, so each
plane received a specially made Pratt & Whitney R-1830 engine. To keep them small
enough to fit inside a Zero’s cowling, each was made from an R-1830-75 power section,
an R-1830-90 blower section, and an R-1830-94 accessory section—all mated together to
work as a single unit.
The FHC aircraft was the last of the three to be completed. The first of the aircraft flew in California in 1998, the second in 2000. This pair was shipped to Hawaii for the filming of the motion picture Pearl Harbor, which was released the following year.
A flight of four Mustangs prowl the skies over Italy, looking for targets. The planes each carry a pair of seventy-five-gallon external fuel tanks to extend their time in the air. When they see enemy aircraft, they can drop the tanks in order to be more nimble in a dogfight.
The FHC purchased Zero 3852 in June 1998. This aircraft continued to be housed in
Chino, California, at Fighter Rebuilders. Over time, the company worked to convert the plane to a two-seater—a feature seen with Zero aircraft used as wartime advanced trainers.
The Zero came to Washington in May 2008 and put on display for the opening of the
FHC’s Everett facility. In 2010, the Zero was dismantled and sent to Century Aviation in Wenatchee, Washington, for final preparations to return it to flying condition. On March 29, 2012 the plane made its maiden flight over Wenatchee with Steve Hinton as test pilot.
Today, the aircraft wears the paint scheme of a fighter from Kokutai (Air Group) 251,
which served near Rabaul. The aircraft was factory-painted light olive and then painted over with dark green camouflage in the field.
The North American P-51 Mustang is arguably the greatest fighter of World War II. While some tout the Supermarine Spitfire as a better performer, historians point out that the Mustang’s incredible range gave it an important edge. Mustangs could tangle with German fighters over Berlin or they could strafe an airfield near Tokyo, both too far from friendly airfields for the short-legged Spitfire.
The famous Mustang actually started life as a fighter for Great Britain. Well before
Pearl Harbor, British Purchasing Committee officials approached California-based North American Aviation, Inc. (NAA), about building Curtiss P-40s under license for the RAF.
NAA’s response was bold considering the fact that they had never made a high-
performance fighter aircraft before. They said they could make a better plane than the P-40, and would design and build the first one in less than 120 days. Amazingly, NAA rolled the plane out the factory 117 days later—never mind the fact that it had borrowed wheels and no engine. Six weeks later, on October 29, 1940, the new plane flew for the first time with an Allison V-1710 engine.
The prototype Mustang, called the NA-73X, had an incredibly clean, yet simple,
airframe. North American did away with many of the rounded shapes common to aircraft
of the era, shapes that would take too long to tool and build. Instead, the plane had
squared-off wings and tail surfaces.
The Mustang is considered one of the prettiest and most capable aircraft of World War II. Able to escort American bombers over long distances and take on the Luftwaffe’s best aircraft, the P-51’s war record was second to none.
The plane also flew with a distinctive cooling scoop designed with data acquired from
Curtiss and NACA, and perfected by NAA engineers. The scoop contained the coolant
radiator and supercharger aftercooler combined, as well as a separate cooler for oil.
Possibly the most impactful trait was the new fighter’s laminar flow wing, also a result of NACA studies. The NACA number 66 airfoil was designed as symmetrically as
possible by moving the thickest part of the wing aft. This allowed the air passing over the wing to maintain adhesion to the surface for as long as possible. It translated into less turbulence and drag on the wing, which led to a fighter that could fly faster and longer than the norm.
Great Britain, embroiled in fighting in Europe and North Africa, increased the order for what would be called the “Mustang,” even before the first one flew. By contrast, the US
Army was a bit more apprehensive about the aircraft before Pearl Harbor. To them, the
Allison-powered Mustang looked no better than the Curtiss P-40. In addition, the army
had no money for new fighter development.
NAA officials found that the army did have money for attack planes. The same aircraft, fitted with a dive brake and bomb racks, became the A-36 Apache. In April 1942 and now at war, the US Army ordered five hundred of them.
The FHC’s North American P-51D Mustang is a combat veteran that served with the Eighth Air Force in England during World War II. The plane is one of only two Mustangs surviving today known to have shot down a German jet plane in combat.
Right behind the Mustang’s stick is the fuel tank selector switch. With it, the pilot can draw fuel from one of the fighter’s internal tanks or external drop tanks. On more than one occasion during World War II, the switch broke off in a flyer’s hand, leaving him with fuel, but no way to get to it. As a result, many Mustang pilots learned to carry a pair of pliers with them on long flights.
The A-36 and British Allison-powered Mustang were great planes below eighteen
thousand feet, but quickly turned into a dog at higher altitudes. Both countries began working on the solution in 1942—crossing the excellent aerodynamic qualities of the
Mustang with the performance of a Rolls-Royce Merlin engine. The British flew their
version first, in October 1942.
Now the Mustang had it all. It could maneuver well, fly high, and cruise great
distances. It could not have come at a better time for the Americans. US Army Air Forces officials had optimistically thought heavy bombers could defend themselves, but it was clear from nearly the beginning that daylight bombing raids over Germany and Occupied
Europe would be incredibly costly. Escort planes like the Spitfire, P-47, and P-38 didn’t have the fuel capacity to stay with the bombers over great distances, and, when the fighter escort departed, the Luftwaffe moved in for the kill.
The Mustang changed all that. This fighter could stay with the bombers during
practically the whole flight and, when the enemy appeared, the P-51 could fight it out with the best of them.
Wheels down and locked, the FHC’s Mustang makes its final approach to Paine Field. The airfield’s long runway, made to handle Boeing’s biggest jumbo jets, is more than enough room for the collection’s small 1940s era aircraft.
After his capture, Luftwaffe chief Hermann Goering was asked when he knew the war
was over. Goering replied, “When I saw your bombers over Berlin protected by your long-range fighters [Mustangs], I knew then that the Luftwaffe would be unable to stop your bombers. Our weapons plants would be destroyed; our defeat was inevitable.”
The FHC’s P-51D Mustang was built in the North American Inglewood, California,
factory in January 1945. The army accepted the plane on January 22, 1945 and transported it overseas in February.
The plane joined the Eighth Air Force, 353rd Fighter Group, 352nd Fighter Squadron
and was assigned to Lt. Harrison B. “Bud” Tordoff, who quickly christened it with the
same name of his previous Mustang— Upupa epops. While flying P-47s, Tordoff had three confirmed air-to-air victories—all Bf 109s.
By the time his squadron had switched to Mustangs, there were strict rules for naming
aircraft and each proposed name was approved by Eighth Air Force headquarters. A
former ornithology (study of birds) student at Cornell University before enlisting, Tordoff
“had been taken with the euphonious scientific name, Upupa epops,” the Latin name of a robin-sized bird, the hoopoe, found in southern Europe and Asia, and parts of Africa.
This was an ironic name for the Mustang; an inside joke. Tordoff recalls textbooks
citing the hoopoe as a bird with “a bizarre appearance,” “weak flying ability,” and “untidy nesting habits.” The bureaucrats at Eighth Air Force headquarters, busy sorting out
suggestive and inappropriate names, approved Upupa epops without even a hint of a
challenge.
The Mustang’s Merlin engine is shoehorned into its streamlined nose. Built by Packard in the United States, the addition of the British-designed Merlin made the P-51 a world-beater.
Sometimes mistaken for a German Bf 109 by overanxious Allied pilots and gun crews, the P-51D Mustang’s distinctive scoop and bubble canopy set it apart, should the attacker get more than a split second look at the plane.
Tordoff flew the original Upupa epops during his first tour, from October to December 1944, completing fifty-nine missions. Then Tordoff went home for a brief visit. Upon
returning to his squadron in February 1945, he was assigned the FHC Mustang, serial
number 44-72364.
Captain Tordoff flew 26 more combat missions in the second Upupa epops from March 1945 until VE-Day. On March 31, Tordoff’s unit encountered several jet-powered Me
262s fighters while escorting B-17s to Derben. Only Tordoff scored, his plucky, and
perhaps somewhat sarcastic, report read:
I was leading Jockey Red flight on an escort mission to Derben, Germany. About 20 minutes before target time, several (perhaps 5 or 6) Me 262’s [sic] appeared. The ones I saw were above me, so our squadron stayed with the bombers rather than give chase. Fifteen minutes later we were at 23,000 ft. on the right side of our combat group of bombers. I called out two bogies approaching us from 9 o’clock. Because I neglected to say also that they were low, about 16-17,000 ft, no one else saw them until they passed under us. I then identified them as Me 262’s, so I told my flight to drop their tanks and bounce them. Although we had lost our chance for the most advantageous bounce by failing to recognize them until they had passed under us, I still had enough altitude to close on the rearmost jet to about 700 yards. At this extreme range I opened fire and using my time-tested and battle-proven theories of aerial gunnery, I obtained my usual fine results—one strike on the left jet unit (and this only after firing 1,545 rounds) What appeared to be gas, started streaming out of the left jet, but he still pulled away from me. Being somewhat unhappy over this apparent waste of ammunition, I decided to follow him home to see if he might spin in in the traffic pattern or something. We chased the two of them for about eight minutes with everything wide open, but still fell behind. At last we came to an airdrome, and the 262’s now about two miles ahead of us decided to split up. The one with both good jets made a diving turn to the left, and my numbers 3 and 4 followed him while the one I had hit pulled up into about a 60-degree climb, still streaming gas. I cut him off, thinking he was going to do an Immelmann, but instead, his jet very nicely burst into flame and out popped the pilot. The 262 then spun down burning and almost hit me. Recovering from the spin, it dove straight into the ground and exploded. I looked for the pilot, but unfortunately could not find him. As usual, I forgot to take any pictures of the plane while it was burning, but nevertheless, I claim one Me 262 destroyed—by one .50 cal bullet.
Tordoff’s fifth official aerial victory, another Bf 109, came on April 17, 1945, while escorting bombers to Hamburg. Tordoff continued to fly the plane until he was shipped
home in August 1945. His Mustang, however, stayed in Germany.
After a period of occupation, the United States began to get rid of much of their air
arsenal in Europe. Some fighters and bombers were chopped apart for scrap. Others were ferried home. Still other aircraft were sold to countries clamoring for modern machines.
Sweden acquired their first batch of forty-three Mustangs before the war in Europe had ended—for $160,000 apiece.
By March 1946, the purchase of a second batch of ninety ex-combat Mustangs was
negotiated with the US military—Sweden paid $3,500 each for these aircraft. Upupa
epops was one of this batch of ninety transferred from an airbase in Germany to Sweden in late 1946. Designated J 26 Mustangs, these planes served with Swedish Fighter Wing F
16 at Uppsala and F 4 at Ostersund.
By the early 1950s, Sweden was looking to acquire more modern jet aircraft and began
to dispose of the Mustangs through sale. Mustangs were sold to Israel, the Dominican
Republic, and Nicaragua, and the former Upupa epops was one of thirty-two Mustangs that went to the Dominican Republic in late 1952.
Ace pilot Harrison “Bud” Tordoff poses for a photograph with his plane, Upupa epops, in 1945. The distinctive yellow and black checkered field surrounding the noses of the planes of the 353rd Fighter Group Mustangs was enlarged during the conflict to allow for better visibility. Ground crews skipped the checkers that would have covered the plane’s nickname nose art.
The Fuerza Aerea Dominicana (FAD) had acquired older versions of the Mustang,
including some Allison-powered airplanes, as early as 1948. The FAD was not only the
first Latin American air force to operate Mustangs, it was also the last to retire them from service.
The Dominican Republic’s dictator, Rafael Trujillo, gathered as many fighting aircraft as he could to help weather invasion attempts from Cuba and Guatemala in the late 1940s.
Tensions with Haiti, as well as the availability of Swedish Mustangs, led to the purchases in 1952 and later. The former Upupa epops was assigned the designator FAD 1916—part of a group of over forty fully operational Mustangs used by the Dominican Republic at the time.
By 1957, Trujillo’s Mustang fleet was dwindling due to operational losses and
accidents. Relations with the United States and many other countries were falling apart, making it difficult to get spare parts. The dictator wanted to sell nearly all the Mustangs in favor of jet fighters, but could not strike a deal. Invasion attempts kept coming through the late 1950s and the FAD Mustangs were used to counter each new threat. Dominican
Mustangs even had a pair of run-ins with US Navy aircraft. It is quite likely that the FHC
Mustang was used in combat at some point during its time in Latin America.
The North American P-51D was a fighter pilot’s dream—powerful engine, great visibility, and six trusty .50-caliber guns.
Considered by many to be the archetypical fighter of World War II, the plane fought again in Korea. The last example to serve in a US tactical unit was retired from the West Virginia Air National Guard in 1957.
While most of the Mustang’s fuselage is bare metal, the area in front of the cockpit is painted olive drab. The dull color assures that the pilot will not be blinded by sunlight reflecting off the top of the fighter’s cowling. During World War II, this plane flew with one piece of non standard equipment—a mirror unit stolen from a downed Spitfire. Today, the mirror is still perched on top of the windscreen.
FAD continued to shrink after Trujillo was assassinated in 1961. Unable to acquire
“better” aircraft, the Dominican Republic used a company in Florida to overhaul the
fighters in 1965. Tran-Florida Aviation Inc., predecessor to Cavalier Aircraft Corporation, worked on about thirty-six of the remaining Mustangs with US State Department
approval.
During the civil war of 1965, the FAD Mustangs and some P-47s were again used in
combat. When US Marines were sent to the country as peacekeepers, they too were
involved in combat with the Mustangs—one FAD F-51 mistakenly attacked marine
ground forces and another was shot down by US ground fire when it strafed near the US
embassy. By 1968, FAD reportedly had about twenty-four Mustangs undergoing a second
major overhaul.
Amazingly, the Mustangs were used by the Dominican Republic until 1984—the last
known Mustangs in armed service for a nation. That year, the Dominican Republic
replaced the ancient fighters with ex-USAF Cessna OA-37B Dragonfly attack planes.
Depending on the source, eight to twelve of the original Mustangs, including FAD 1916, remained.
The future FHC plane was slated to become a gate guard display aircraft at San Isidro
air base, but the sale price of these remaining aircraft, reportedly $300,000 each,
convinced someone in the FAD to let the plane go to a private buyer in the United States.
Called the “last bulk warbird sale” by Air & Space Magazine, nine Mustangs and masses of spare parts were purchased by Brian O’Farrell and Johnson Aviation of Miami, Florida, in 1984. FAD 1916 was the only aircraft of the group not purchased by private investors in the late 1980s. In early 1998, the FHC acquired this last Mustang from Brian O’Farrell.
The plane was sent to WestPac Restorations Inc. in Rialto, California. There, the
Mustang underwent a restoration process of unprecedented detail and accuracy, creating one of the most complete P-51 Mustangs in the world. In the words of WestPac President Bill Klaers, “[I]t was agreed that this aircraft would not only be restored, but that it would also be returned to exactly the same standard as it was in when it left the North American Aviation factory in late 1944.”
In the summer of 2003, Bud Tordoff, now living in Minnesota, came to Arlington,
Washington and was reunited with his aircraft. It was the first time he’d seen it since the end of the war. He wrote in the right gun bay door of the fighter, “I flew this plane in combat, March and April of 1945. It always brought me home.”
Tordoff was able to come back to see “his” Mustang after it had had been moved to the
new FHC museum facility at Paine Field for the June 6, 2008 opening. Soon after, on July 23, 2008, Harrison “Bud” Tordoff passed away.
When pilots talk about flying, they can’t help but use their hands. Here, a pair of flyers from the 350th Fighter Squadron relive a story of air combat over Occupied Europe.
One pair of the P-51D Mustang’s guns is staggered aft. Early versions of the fighter only had four .50-calibers and when North American designers added another pair, there was no place for the ammunition boxes and feed shoots within the wing. The solution was to back up the new set of guns by a few inches—about the length of a .50-caliber bullet—and build in another set of ammo boxes behind the originals.