ALTHOUGH so much about this long-overdue day was Canadian, the weather was determined in its efforts to remain quintessentially British.

From across the globe they had come to see an unforgivable wrong righted - the scandal of Andrew Mynarski's selfless act of fortitude being largely forgotten on these shores at last brought to an end.

Second World War veterans, schoolchildren, politicians, civic leaders . . . all mingled together in the grounds of the St George Hotel, at Durham Tees Valley Airport, for a truly momentous occasion.

They were greeted by bitter, driving rain on a cold, bleak, grey day that had everyone scrambling for their umbrellas.

Yet there was one defining moment when the adverse conditions were forgotten. One glorious moment when, although the heavens had opened, nobody cared.

One deeply emotional moment that will never be forgotten, that brought tears to the eyes of young and old alike. One moving moment that had the hairs standing up on the backs of the necks of everybody privileged enough to be there.

An impeccably observed two-minute silence and the sounding of the Last Post had followed the unveiling of the bronze statue, fittingly carried out by Colleen Bacon, daughter of Pat Brophy, the man whose life Mynarski had daringly battled to save.

Everybody waited, their heads turned skywards, oblivious to the atrocious weather. And then it happened.

The magnificent, spine-tingling, droning sound of the legendary Lancaster bomber grew louder and louder as it thundered towards the airport.

"Here she comes," one frail veteran uttered to himself, straightening his medal-clad attire, stepping out of the hotel reception into the rain and gazing up with all the same eager anticipation of the choir of children next to him.

The lumbering giant, one of only two Lancasters in the world still flying, soared over the assembled guests, drawing awe-inspired gasps all around.

The young singers from Middleton St George Primary School launched into O Valiant Heart as the Lancaster flew by - again and again and again.

There was barely a dry eye.

It was the perfect, touching end to a ceremony that had already been laden with emotion.

Shortly after 11am on Saturday, the Andrew Mynarski injustice was no more.

Aviation historian Geoff Hill set the scene, taking the microphone to tell guests - and a throng of curious on-lookers who had gathered at a nearby fence - the background to why they were there.

After the true scale of Mynarksi's heroism had been explained, Ms Bacon stepped forward to bring the covers off a long-overdue, lasting tribute to the airman, who died aged 27.

As she did so, the Canadian flag was raised aloft and the beautiful, haunting voice of soloist Sarah Kelly, singing Andrew Lloyd Webber's Pie Jesu, filled the air.

Behind her, children sang their hearts out before later, gleefully, attaching themselves to the back of the line in the veterans' march-past.

For statue sculptor Keith Maddison, it was too much. For him, the unveiling did not just represent nine months of hard work. An aviation enthusiast and RAF reservist, whose father served in the RAF during the war, he was moved to tears.

"I have never been affected like that at an unveiling," he said afterwards. "During the Last Post I just lost it. I just got overwhelmed.

"It was the relief after all the work and thinking of the guys in the foundry that put in a really special effort to get to this moment."

He was by no means the only one to be moved.

Betty Amlin, whose letter to The Northern Echo brought the Mynarski story firmly into the public eye, was also overwhelmed.

With her husband, Jimmy, a former Canadian airman by her side, she said after the event: "I was so proud of everybody today and the statue is wonderful. I am so happy we have got to this day and it has worked out the way it has."

Group Captain Bob Judson, station commander at RAF Coningsby, in Lincolnshire, where the Lancaster is based, greeted veterans at a viewing area after the ceremony.

"It was a tremendous privilege, very sobering, very humbling. When you read what Andrew Mynarski did, you can only say it was the purest form of heroism," he said.

"This was fantastic to be involved in. All the guys on the flight love to meet the veterans and be reminded of what they did for us."

Stan Instone, a former flight engineer with 419 Squadron, with which Mynarski once flew, said: "I came into the squadron just after Mynarski had left. I found it extremely moving today - I was choked."

Poignantly, Ms Bacon also stepped aboard the Lancaster, seeing the seat her father would have occupied as a rear gunner during that fateful night in 1944.

In the background, 16 air cadets, representing the 573 Andrew Mynarski VC Air Cadet Squadron, looked on in awe at the historic aircraft.

By the end of an emotionally draining day, the rain had given up and blue skies began to burst through the cloud.

The 8ft statue stood proudly, as people flocked to have their photographs taken by its side.

Those pictures should be treasured keepsakes - souvenirs of the day we could finally say, with immense pride and satisfaction, that Andrew Mynarski is no longer a forgotten hero.