What an epic tale! Bob Spurdle joined the Royal New Zeeland Air Force at the beginning of WWII and was immediately put on a boat to the UK and into the battle of Britain flying a Spitfire. He was a member of Sailor Malan’s famous squadron all through the battle and into 1941. He then took a job as a rocket catapult launched convoy fighter pilot on a couple of trips across the Atlantic, but managed to avoid action both times. Back in the UK he had a period as a recon pilot flying Spitfires over the French coast, but then return to the NZ and on to the Solomon Islands where he took part in the Guadalcanal battle. Very critical of the way the RNZAF was run, he returned the UK and became squadron leader flying the brand new Tempest during the D-Day landing and advance through France. If all this wasn’t enough, at the end of the war he volunteered as forward fighter director with the army and entered Germany in a tank. Many scenes of heartache as close friends perished, and disgust at the wonton destruction of war, but at the same time a cold blooded killer himself, interspersed with much humour and the joy of flying. Strong opinions about the various organisations he served (the RAF superb, the RNAZF woeful, the USAAF big and stupid - with disturbing tales of friendly fire) and the planes he flew (Spitfire and Tempest superb, the Hurricane an old crate, and the P40 a brick). It’s quite astonishing that he survived it all. He settled down after the war to life of business back at home in NZ and never flew a plane again. Engagingly written and very moving in places, an extraordinary tale that needed no embellishment. I thoroughly enjoyed it.