By Steve Weaver

The magnificent Supermarine Spitfire, just before the eventful flight. (Courtesy Steve Wesaver)I watched as the Spitfire, a veteran of the Battle of Britain, gently touched the sod of the country it had fought for some 70 odd years ago. The roll out was straight, and the track was true and the beautiful craft had slowed to almost a taxi pace when suddenly the left wing went down. The big fighter slewed and started to go over. It poised with the tail high in the air, just at the tipping point, where an inch further would send it onto its back, then it settled back on the right main gear and the left wing tip, the tail still high above the ground. There was a collective moan from the watching crowd, mine probably one of the loudest.