Aces High [antikvár]

Introduction For CENTURIES the symbol of utter high risk precision has been the diamond cutter. He sits, loup in place, genteel beads of perspiration moistening his brow, blade poised above a stone, the responsibility for a million dollars worth of jewelry subject to the tap of his mallet. If he has judged the structure incorrectly, if he sneezes as the mallet hits the blade, if his eyesight has been faulty, he can turn a million dollars into a few thousand in the split second it takes for the tool to bite into the stone. If he succeeds, his job is done; he's earned his fame and his money. As a symbol, the diamond cutter corresponds to a modern military pilot approximately as Truman Capote would have corresponded to Mike Tyson. Every minute of every day, all over the world, men and women are making delicate life or death adjustments of equipment costing tens and even hundreds of millions of dollars, not in the privileged sanctuary of an Amsterdam cutting house, but in the rough and tumble world of bad weather, wind shear, slick runways and implacably declining fuel levels. Less frequently, but at an even more intense level, pilots must have a situational awareness of hostile missile threats, fuel states, tanker locations and armament settings as they brawl in high-g turns at near sonic speeds, against adversaries whose missiles' maniacal determination to destroy is built into their electronic circuitry. While the public has not yet come to