WE crane our necks and gape in wonder as the sky is rent asunder with the ominous sound of rolling thunder. Our auditory faculties – apart from those belonging to observers with the foresight to have brought ear-plugs – receive a hefty pounding while the ground beneath us truly appears to be shaking.

There are some fine vintage aircraft in the blue skies above Swindon on August Bank Holiday Monday, 1992, including World War Two Flying Fortress Sally B trailing strains of “We’ll Meet Again,” and the historic De Havilland DH88 Comet, victor of the 1934 England to Australia Air Race.

But one amongst their number leaves us with a genuine sense of awe bordering on incredulity… especially when we witness a sudden, near vertical ascent, arching skywards with gravity defying agility, as if propelled from some NASA launch pad that has materialised on the Wiltshire Downs.

Britain’s very own Delta Lady, all 38 tons of her, is in full flight – majestic, muscular, magnificent. Such precision, such power. No wonder they named her after the Roman God of Fire.

Twenty three years ago XH558 – the last remaining Vulcan bomber capable of flight – thrilled a huge, gasping crowd at Wroughton airfield for The Great Warbirds display.

This weekend, at the Royal International Air Tattoo (RIAT) at Fairford, 20 minutes down the A419, the very same aircraft will bid farewell to airshow buffs in this region once and for all.

The mighty V-bomber, this staggering example of post-war British aviation technology and innovation, will no longer reach for the sky after a summer season of specular shows.

She will gracefully retire  to a less hectic life of taxiing along a runway, her iconic delta wings forever clipped.

That she is flying at all is something of a minor miracle because back in ’92, when the Vulcan dazzled spectators at Wroughton and other air shows, her arrival at that great graveyard in the sky appeared imminent.

Incredible as it seems The Last of the Vulcans was garnering interest from – gasp - foreign scrap dealers.

Around £1 million was required to service the old girl, so the Ministry of Defence decided to off-load our Cold War Warrior to the highest bidder as part of an ongoing sale of obsolete assets.

Only an intense, heartfelt and unlikely national campaign helped save the Vulcan from a somewhat undignified demise.

And one Swindon gentleman in particular should be congratulated for his unstinting efforts in raising awareness of the importance of our V-bird in its greatest hour of need.

He became key figure in a crusade which eventually led to XH558 – almost to everyone’s surprise – once more soaring regally through our skies.

Less than a month after its thunderous aerobatics at Wroughton, Harry Bromley was ensconced in my Old Town dining-room (the Swindon office of the newspaper I once worked for) banging the table and leaving me in no doubt as to his significance of his mission.

Having spent 20 years as an RAF pilot, Harry was livid at the prospect of the Vulcan being turned into girders for a French shopping mall, or whatever.

“We cannot let this happen, it is unthinkable that the Vulcan should be scrapped,” he said. “This is a unique and magnificent aircraft – probably the largest British designed and built plane still flying.

“It is something uniquely British for the world to wonder at and yet it looks like it is going the same way as other famous British aircraft which have all been lost.”

He counted some of them off: “Mosquito, Blenheim, Typhoon, Lightning, Britannia, Comet...”

Harry of Broom Manor, had got wind of a petition by Leicester Vulcan enthusiast Carolyn Betteridge to save the aircraft, and with laudable fervour threw himself into the fray Over the next few months he amassed thousands of signatures which – in pre-internet times – reached an impressive 220,000. A resourceful character, he even acquired the support of Richard Branson.

In March 1993 he was among a delegation which presented the petition to the House of Commons calling for the Vulcan to be saved.

A week later Harry, a sports company director, placed an offer with the MoD to actually buy the aircraft himself but was out-bid by Leicestershire aerodrome owner David Walton who coughed up a reported £40,000.

Harry was mightily relieved, though. The greedy, grasping hands of scrap dealers had been held at bay.

Flying to its new home to become part of the British Aviation Collection, the Vulcan bomber – once the spearhead of Britain’s nuclear strike force – was greeted like a returning hero. Sorry, heroine.

It was her last ever flight... probably. Grounded she may have been, but a national treasure nevertheless.

And then, 14 years later - on a wing and a prayer, you may think - a very familiar aircraft, with its striking 100ft delta wingspan, could be spotted looming larger than life and making a hell of a racket in our airspace.

Against all the odds, XH558 had in 2007 been restored to flying status with a £2.5 million Lottery grant, funds from commercial sponsors and the hard earned cash of more than 20,000 members of the public.

Even then the £7 million project may not have got off the ground but for a £500,000 bail-out from philanthropist and Wolverhampton Wanders owner, the late Jack Hayward.

Re-christened The Spirit of Great Britain, she has spent the past eight years wowing air-shows with her extraordinary dynamics and sheer, unadulterated presence... which will soon, sadly, fade into a memory like aeroplane traces vanishing in the blue yonder.

The Vulcan’s rollercoaster recovery, however, would not have been possible but for the efforts more than 20 years ago of Harry Bromley and the like who were prepared to make a big, loud noise to preserve our aviation heritage in the shape of one very special lady.

*The theme of this year’s RIAT – the world’s largest military air tattoo – is “Securing The Skies - Past, Present, Future.”

Keep your eyes and ears peeled, the Vulcan will fly in on Thursday, and be on static display on Friday before taking part in airborne displays on Saturday and Sunday. Further information www.airtattoo.com