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shouted Dan. He and Henry gripped their wheels as debris clattered across the shell of their plane. Out of the Blue pitched around violently in the explosion’s wake.
    â€œThey’ll be on us now,” Dan warned.
    Henry nodded grimly and locked onto his control wheel even tighter. He placed his life in the hands of his gunners. “Get me a bird, guys,” he called through the intercom.
    It all happened faster than Henry expected. Just as Dan radioed: “Little Friends, Little Friends, we’ve got a bee’s nest back here,” Messerschmitts swarmed them. Four whirled around, looped up over Out of the Blue and came back, straight on, rolling.
    Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat.
    Another bullet pierced the cockpit window.
    Zing, zing, zing.
    Henry felt it whiz by his ear to lodge somewhere behind him.
    CRRRRACK.
    Glass shattered. A scream of pain came from the bombardier’s compartment below.
    â€œGod, oh God,” Paul cried out over the intercom. “Fred’s hit! There’s blood everywhere! Oh, God.”
    Other cries of agony shrieked through the intercom. Henry started to lift himself out of his chair to help.

    â€œSit down! They’re coming around again, Hank.” Dan steadied Henry with his commanding voice.
    A thousand yards ahead, Henry could see American Mustangs closing in. “Come on, boys,” he urged.
    A Messerschmitt streaked by the cockpit.
    BANG, BANG, BANG.
    Henry heard the sound of bullets puncturing metal, of engine gears grinding and cracking. Out of the Blue quaked and dipped. Its number two engine was on fire. The edge of its left wing was sheered off.
    BANG!
    Henry looked to the right. Their number three engine sputtered and shook. Its propeller grated to a stop.
    â€œDan!” Henry cried.
    â€œI know. We’re cooked.” Dan called to the crew, “Bail out. Everybody out NOW!”
    Out of the Blue began to whine and drift away from the formation, falling like a leaf on a strong wind. Henry knew it was only a matter of a minute, seconds maybe, before her nose would go down. Then she’d start spinning, generating a centrifugal force that would lock all of them inside until she exploded. But he and Dan clung to the controls for a few more moments to give the crew – whoever was still alive – a chance to get out.
    â€œNow you,” Dan ordered Henry. “I’m right behind you.” The entire left wing was ablaze.
    Henry pushed himself up, fighting the plane’s wild bucking. He glanced down at Dan’s leg. It was drenched in blood. Dan would never get himself out with that wound. “I’m not leaving without you, Captain.”
    â€œGo on!” shouted Dan. “That’s an order!”
    Henry had disconnected himself from his oxygen supply to get out. He could feel himself getting lightheaded. Hurry, he told himself. Hurry!
    He started out of the cockpit, following orders. Then he looked at Dan’s leg again. This man had saved his skin plenty of times. Henry couldn’t leave him behind. He grabbed Dan by the arm and yanked him up. “Sorry, Captain. You’re coming.”
    Waddling in his fat, fleece-lined suit, Henry dragged the two of them out of the cockpit. He could hear the wings tearing apart. The plane rocked like an earthquake. Dan cried out with each step.
    Somehow, Henry got them to the bomb bay. He lowered Dan into the opening. Clouds rushed below. Dan clutched Henry’s collar. It was the first time Henry had seen fear on Dan’s face.
    â€œThanks, Hank,” he said. Then Dan let go and dropped into the sky.
    Henry wriggled down among the four five-hundred-pound bombs. He squeezed his way through and fell into the blue.
    Henry waited before pulling the parachute’s red handle. Pull the release cord too soon and the chute might snag on the plane’s tail.
    One one thousand, two one thousand… In flight training, Henry had been taught to count to ten by thousands