Some birds don't fly.

In the fleeting seconds before countdown, there is a breathless hush of expectation. Then, the moment all have been waiting for: "Ten. . . nine. . . eight. . . seven. . . six. . . five. . . four. . . three. . . two. . . one. . . ZERO!"

The missile lifts from its launching pad, lumbers 50 feet aloft, gives a graceless to-hell-with-it shudder, and returns to earth.

You have just participated in another thrilling moment in America's missile program. But you retire form the scene reassured in the knowledge that tomorrow will be worse. Why not? It has been throughout your army and civilian careers as a missile technician.

Today, when almost all "birds" do fly almost all of the time, we forget it was not always thus. But the author has not forgotten, as he makes clear in this hilarious recounting of what really happened in the days when hardly any birds got off the ground, when they did, nothing within range was safe.

The author has no ambition to return to missilery. This book will guarantee that he won't.