John Leahr and Herb Heilbrun were in the same third-grade class in Cincinnati and were both pilots in WWII, but didn’t become friends until meeting at a reunion in 1997, primarily because John was black and Herb was white.

As my friend and teachers say, I am a person with a crazy imagination. Every book I've read, I can see it happening with my brain's eye. I like this book because it is a book that is real, but acceptable to my brain. It's not like the "Goosebumps" series, which make you shiver and have nightmares about it for like a eight days in a row (which is why i don't like the Goosebumps). When I read the book, I could see it happening. See the planes spiraling down in a whirlwind of fire, feel the men's desperation as they struggle to pull open the plane door. I can feel their anxiety as they wonder whether they will live to see their family and friends just one last time. I can hear Herb's anger as he demands why the aluminum name strips of the dead men should be thrown away when they have fought so nobly for there country. I can smell the beer on the drunken white man's clothing as he taunted John and the four other black officers. A book written so well, i cannot resist reading.