1940. Extraordinary Britain remains solitary in Europe against the developing stain of the widespread Nazi realm, its apprehensive tenants pondering what’s in store. Be that as it may, a bunch of individuals on this ambushed island know very well indeed what one conceivable future may hold. They have seen Warsaw consume, Poland disintegrate, France give in. Men like Jan Zumbach, Witold Urbanowicz, Miroslaw Feric and Tolo Lokuciewski, pilots of the Polish Air Force, who realize that if the Luftwaffe isn’t halted, at that point Poland, Holland and France were only Hitler’s appetizers. So they are prepared to battle, on the off chance that they are given the planes. The issue is the British don’t trust ‘the bleeding Poles’. Thus the pilots, outsiders in what appears an exceptionally unusual land in fact, will throughout a couple of months need to battle a few wars without a moment’s delay – with the xenophobia of the specialists and people in general, with the dialect, the new Hurricane contenders, with the fight solidified Luftwaffe. Be that as it may, once they are reluctantly made operational by the RAF, the Polish warriors indicate what they can do, out-gunning the foe and out-scoring their partners. The once threatening British fete the Polish flyers as legends – friends in need, even. Presently, however, the Poles have a new foe – themselves, as nerves and weariness take a horrendous toll on men stretched as far as possible by consistent elevated fighting, battling to spare their own nation over a remote land. Not all will make it. Not all companionships will survive. What’s more, when it’s finished, Jan Zumbach will mull over a pyrrhic triumph, as Poland is given over to Stalin’s manikins.