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salvaged bombers from Poltava and fly them out – either back to England or down to Italy.
    â€˜The Soviets are itching to get their hands on our planes,’ Helton said. ‘Given half a chance, they’ll haul ’em off and tear ’em down to find out how they’re made. Our guys are getting them patched up and the hell out of there before those Reds get the chance. You have experience of emergency soft-field take-offs, don’t you?’
    Robert nodded. Back in the summer he’d been forced to land his B-24 at a Luftwaffe fighter airfield in northern France. Anticipating either a firefight or captivity, he and his crew were relieved to be greeted by American infantrymen who’d captured the field a few daysearlier. After refueling and repairs, Robert had learned the hard way about the challenges of taking off a laden four-engine bomber from a short grass strip intended for single-engine fighters.
    â€˜I thought so,’ said Helton. ‘So, what d’you say?’
    â€˜You mean I have a choice?’
    â€˜Of course.’ Helton paused. ‘There’s a catch. They want you right now. You wouldn’t get the chance to go home.’
    â€˜Then I’d rather not, sir.’
    The colonel glowered. ‘Listen, Bob, if you take this job, you’ll be out of the combat zone – just flying back and forth, absolutely safe. It’ll take you maybe a few months to ferry those planes. After you get that done, you could tell them you’re going home. Then, after your 21 days are up, maybe the war will be over.’
    Robert was silent. Colonel Helton was trying to help him out, and the colonel was right – if he went home now, the system would scoop him right up and send him back to the fight. Another tour – another 35 missions. He’d beaten the lottery once – could he count on being a Lucky Bastard twice?
    â€˜You know the score as well as I do,’ Helton went on. ‘Yesterday was almost a milk run by all accounts. 7 Right this minute the group is on the way to hit the refinery at Misburg, and I’m not expecting to see them all back tonight. How would you reckon your chances if there were another Magdeburg? Nine ships out of 36 went down that day.’
    Robert felt a chill at the mention of the Magdeburg mission – a name invested with dread. It had been mid-September, and the 493rd had only just completed the transition from B-24 to B-17 bombers. Poor formation flying over the target (oil industry facilities at Magdeburg/Rothensee) opened the door to attacks by two squadrons of German Fw 190 fighters. They came from front and rear, raking the straggling Fortresses. The 493rd lost nine bombers that day – four exploding in flames before their crews could get out. Only half a dozen parachutes were spotted from all the stricken planes. 8
    Captain Robert Trimble had not taken part in the Magdeburg mission; it had been his squadron’s turn to stand down. 9 He figured itjust wasn’t his day to die. That day could come anytime, though, and Colonel Helton’s offer showed a way to put it off.
    But Robert wasn’t the kind of man who could be stampeded so easily. He looked his commanding officer in the eye. ‘What if I turn it down?’
    Helton shrugged. ‘I pass it on to the next fellow on my list. But I was asked for the best, and you’re the best I’ve got available.’ The colonel finished his whisky and stood up. ‘Listen, go call your wife. Talk it over with her. When you’re done thinking, come back and talk to me again.’
    Robert walked across to the communication building, turning the proposal over in his mind. It was a big thing to take in. He didn’t want to go to Russia (or the Ukraine or wherever the hell it was), but maybe it would be for the best. He and Eleanor had been apart for much of their two-and-a-half years of married life. She had followed him dutifully from state to