"Fosburgh writes of the air as many of our greatest writers have written of the sea with love and fear..."—BOSTON HERALD In the darkness, the ten men stood together near the nose of the Upstairs Maid. She was factory-new. They had named her, and they had paid thirty dollars to a sergeant for the fine naked blond painted on her nose. She was the best B-24 bomber in the business, she was their plane and they were proud of her. And each one of them had wondered, privately, whether someday she would fly them back to the States, or whether somewhere out there in the Pacific, she would be their tomb... "...the perilous mission which takes the Upstairs Maid into a storm, over the target, then home wounded, on two engines and a prayer, is the most authentic flying time ever logged by an American writer."—THE NEW YORK TIMES