In the spring of 1957, I was awarded the silver wings of a pilot in the United States Air Force. Because I stood first in my pilot training class, I had my pick of next assignments. To my unbounded delight, on the list of openings presented to us there was one that I, and many other brand new, single engine jet pilots, coveted above all others: it called for the boy who picked it to fly the storied North American F-86 Sabre, the great, air-to-air victory bird of the Korean War. He would do that at the gunnery school at Williams Air Force Base in Arizona, the famous Willy. I leapt at it. This book starts with my father's insistence that I, on the eve of entering Princeton University in 1951, agree to join the military on graduation. Having commanded a ship of war in World War 2, he believed with fervor that privileged Americans such as ourselves have a moral obligation to serve the country. My initially surprised but soon entirely willing response was to join at Princeton the ROTC of the United States Air Force. In doing that I was tracking much admired uncles who had flown in the Army Air Corps in the big war. In return for the promise of a second lieutenant's commission on graduation, I committed to the Air Force that I would serve on active duty for three years. It was my hope that I would be accepted into pilot training. Happily, in spite of flat feet, I was. This book follows me through a year of pilot training in places in Texas I had never heard of, mastering, step by step, the business of flying single engine aircraft, at first prop driven, then jet driven. It then describes great days at Willy. My time with the beautiful Sabre was everything I hoped it would be, if not more.