To die as a military pensioner in a soft bed in the twenty-first century and wake up covered with earth in the crater of an aerial bomb explosion, in the body of a young aircraft technician in the fiery year of forty-one. Airplanes with crosses on their wings are flying overhead, their engines roaring, and machine guns are chattering, bringing death. Your time has come. It's time to put your skills to use. After all, you have been preparing for this all your life. Prepared to defend the Motherland. Very soon the enemies will have to find out who the Russian ace from the future is. They don’t even need crosses on their graves; crosses on their wings will do.