CHAPTER I GLORY TRAIL Swing music was blaring from the radio set in the mess when Stan Wilson entered. His blue eyes, which gleamed with a great zest for living, gazed levelly around the room. There was a look in them which had been born of penetrating the blue depths of Colorado canyons and, later on, at the limitless spaces a flier sees. As usual, a half-smile, seemingly directed at himself, played at the corners of his mouth. There was... more...

RUGGED GOING The Commanding Colonel stared at the big map with its red ribbons marking air trails to and from targets. He was spotting the exact point where his Third Fighter group would have to turn back and leave the big Fortresses and Liberators to go it alone into the concentrated defenses of Germany. Weather Officer Miller looked glumly at the map as Colonel Holt placed his finger on a spot. "6/10 cloud over station six." Station six was... more...

CHAPTER I FAREWELL PARTY The party was about to break up. It had not been very successful. Lieutenant O'Malley had devoured only one blueberry pie. This meant he was feeling far from par. He sat sprawled in a big chair that once had belonged to a Moslem prince, his skinny legs elevated to the top of the mess table. "Sure, an' you fellows are skunks, beatin' it off to do a soft stretch in Alexandria," he growled. Lieutenant Stan Wilson, United... more...