Spitfire ML four oh seven and the Grace family who kept a D-Day veteran flying for forty years

Spitfire ML407 is one of the oldest airworthy Supermarine Spitfires in the world, a Mark IX that flew combat sorties over the beaches of Normandy on June 6, 1944. What sets her apart from the handful of surviving Spitfires isn’t the airframe itself — it’s the extraordinary chain of human devotion that kept her flying for more than four decades, through a painstaking restoration, a devastating loss, and one woman’s determination to honor a promise that was never spoken aloud.

From Factory Floor to D-Day

ML407 rolled off the line at the Castle Bromwich shadow factory outside Birmingham, England, in 1944. Castle Bromwich had been repurposed from automobile production to wartime aircraft manufacturing, and by that point in the war it was producing Spitfires at an extraordinary rate — each one hand-fitted by workers who understood that every rivet could mean the difference between a pilot coming home or not.

The aircraft was assigned to the Royal Air Force’s 485 Squadron, a New Zealand unit operating out of southern England. These Kiwi pilots were tasked with ground attack and air superiority missions in the buildup to the Allied invasion of France. They flew low and aggressive — strafing trains, hitting airfields, and engaging whatever the Luftwaffe put in their path.

On D-Day, ML407 was part of the air umbrella over the Normandy beaches, flying multiple sorties to keep German fighters off the troops wading ashore during the largest military operation in human history. In the weeks that followed, she racked up combat missions across France as the Allies pushed inland, took battle damage, was repaired in the field, and flew again.

Surviving When Most Were Scrapped

Out of more than 20,000 Spitfires built during the war, only a tiny fraction survived to peacetime intact. After the war ended, the RAF had no need for thousands of surplus fighters. Most were scrapped and melted down — the aluminum literally recycled into civilian goods.

ML407 escaped that fate. Sold off as surplus, she passed through a series of private owners over the following decades. By the 1970s, she was in rough shape: the Merlin engine was tired, the airframe needed significant work, and the fabric and fittings were deteriorating. She wasn’t a wreck, but she was far from airworthy — a major restoration project by any measure.

Nick Grace and the Restoration

Nick Grace, a British pilot and businessman, bought ML407 in 1979. His obsession with Spitfires went far beyond casual enthusiasm. He stripped the aircraft down to bare metal, inspecting every rib, stringer, and bracket. Corroded pieces were replaced. Wing leading edges were reskinned. The landing gear was rebuilt. The hydraulic system was gone through line by line.

The Rolls-Royce Merlin engine alone represented a monumental challenge. With 27 liters of displacement, 12 cylinders in a V configuration, a supercharger, and over 1,000 horsepower in later marks, the Merlin is one of the most complex piston engines ever mass-produced. By the 1970s, the specialized knowledge needed to rebuild one was already fading. Grace spent countless winter nights in his workshop, hands black with oil, cleaning and measuring connecting rods, reduction gear assemblies, and supercharger impellers to tolerances that would challenge a Swiss watchmaker.

By 1985, ML407 flew again. That Merlin — with its distinctive high, smooth, continuous howl unlike any radial bark or flat-four buzz — sang over the English countryside for the first time in decades.

Tragedy and a Remarkable Decision

Nick Grace flew ML407 on the British airshow circuit throughout the late 1980s, and she became one of the most recognizable Spitfires in the country. Her elliptical wings catching the light as Grace rolled and looped for crowds who understood they were watching living history.

Then, in October 1988, Nick Grace was killed in a car accident on a wet road in southern England. He was 42 years old. The man who had poured nearly a decade into bringing ML407 back from the dead was gone.

What happened next defied every expectation. Nick’s wife, Carolyn Grace, decided she would fly the Spitfire herself.

She had two young children. She was grieving. And the Spitfire Mark IX is not a forgiving aircraft — its narrow undercarriage, long nose blocking forward visibility during taxi, and vicious torque on takeoff demand respect from even the most experienced tailwheel pilots. Type-specific training barely existed outside the military.

Carolyn Grace: Two Decades in the Cockpit

Carolyn earned her tailwheel endorsement, built her hours methodically, and worked her way up to the Spitfire. By the early 1990s, she was flying ML407 at airshows across Britain and Europe, becoming one of the very few women in the world to fly a single-seat Spitfire — not a two-seat trainer, but the real thing, a Mark IX with a Merlin 66 up front.

She flew ML407 for more than 20 years. People who watched her at airshows consistently describe the same thing: no showboating. Clean, precise flying with the Merlin note just right. Low sweeping passes, graceful wingovers, and the kind of smoothness that only comes from knowing an aircraft at a cellular level.

The maintenance burden alone was staggering. Flying a Spitfire regularly demands constant attention to the Merlin’s coolant systems, oil systems, and the glycol that keeps twelve cylinders from overheating. The propeller requires scheduled inspections and overhauls. The airframe accumulates fatigue that must be monitored with clinical care. Every flight hour costs real money and real labor. Carolyn managed all of it as the sole custodian — making every decision about whether to fly in a crosswind, whether a mag drop was within limits, and how to bring the aircraft home when something didn’t feel right. No copilot. No dispatch. Just her judgment and sixty years of history.

Wartime Scars Beneath the Skin

Over the years, maintenance work on ML407 continued to reveal her combat past. Technicians found patches beneath the skin — field repairs where anti-aircraft damage had been fixed by ground crews working under canvas in the rain somewhere in France. Those patches carry a story no logbook entry can capture: exhausted nineteen-year-old mechanics riveting aluminum over flak holes so a pilot they might never see again could get back in the fight the next morning.

Three Generations, One Spitfire

Carolyn eventually stepped back from flying ML407, and the aircraft passed to her son, continuing the family’s stewardship. Three generations are now connected to this single Spitfire: Nick, who saved her; Carolyn, who kept the faith; and a new generation carrying it forward.

There are roughly 50 to 60 airworthy Spitfires left in the world at any given time, depending on maintenance cycles. ML407 stands out among them not for being the prettiest or the most powerful mark, but for the unbroken thread of human devotion running through her story — from the Castle Bromwich factory workers, to the New Zealand pilots over Normandy, to the field mechanics who patched her flak damage, to Nick Grace rebuilding her by hand, to Carolyn keeping her in the sky against all odds.

Restoration, at its core, is a decision — that a particular machine matters enough to fight for — backed up with years of life, savings, weekends, and heart.

Key Takeaways

Spitfire ML407 is a Mark IX that flew combat missions on D-Day with RAF 485 Squadron (New Zealand) and survived the war when the vast majority of 20,000+ Spitfires were scrapped
Nick Grace bought the deteriorating airframe in 1979 and completed a meticulous full restoration, returning her to flight in 1985
After Nick’s death in a 1988 car accident, his wife Carolyn Grace learned to fly the Spitfire and kept ML407 airworthy for over 20 years, becoming one of the few women to pilot a single-seat Spitfire
The aircraft has now passed to the Graces’ son, making three generations of family stewardship
Ongoing maintenance work continues to reveal wartime field repairs beneath ML407’s skin, connecting her present-day flights to her D-Day combat history