Jesse's propeller sputtered and his plane pitched forward into a rapid descent. Instinctively, Tom held formation and followed him down, frantically scanning to terrain for a suitable crash site. All he saw were snowy mountains and valleys studded with deed trees. This can't be happening, Tom thought. Tom's face twisted. Jesse was going down seventeen miles behind enemy lines. If he survived the crash, the enemy would surely double-time it to capture him-and if they didn't shoot him on sight, they'd surely torture the captured pilot. Tom needed to do something to help his friend, and fast. Book jacket.