They called it Vesuvius It was the mission on which D-day depended and it was given to 633 Squadron, the R.A.F.'s crack squadron at a time when every ounce of skill counted. They were top pilots who flew with the recklessness of a passionate hatred for the enemy. But although they were fighting machines, they were also men. There was the Wing Commander, tough, cynical, careless of his life but not of his crews; Gillibrand, the big, brash flier who...