By Bill Marsano. Ernest K. Gann, probably the greatest of American aviation writers, said there were two kind of pilots: airmen and airplane drivers. Airmen were at one with their airplanes; they had the “right stuff”: remained calm in the worst situations; almost always found a way to survive. Airplane drivers were competent hacks who might just as well have been driving buses. The pilots who crashed an Air France jet into the Atlantic a few years back were airplane drivers. Chesley Sullenberger, who managed to bring USAirways Flight 1549 down to a safe water landing in the Hudson River with no fatalities, is an airman. So is author-pilot Tammi Jo Shults, an American heroine and role model. She grew up lower-middle class on farms out west. She did her chores, studied hard, worked through college, joined the Navy and became one of the first female naval aviators—all of which was tougher than you may imagine. Money was always tight, for example; more important was that more than a few male officers tried to sabotage her flight training. They failed. And Tammi Jo (reading this book puts you naturally on a first-name basis) became fully qualified in such advanced airplanes as the A-7 Corsair and the F/A-18 Hornet, the latter an 18-ton fighter-bomber capable of 1200 mph and costing $29 million. She accomplished that with her combination of brains, guts and determination—the right stuff—and that was what she relied on in April 2018. On the 17th of that month she was pilot in command of a Southwest Air Flight 1380 when after climbing past 32,000 feet the left engine of her Boeing 737 simply exploded. Debris smashed a passenger’s window; the resulting rapid decompression would have sucked her out of the airplane but for her seatbelt. OK, we’ve all heard that a twin-engine airplane can fly on one engine safely, but here you’ll learn just how difficult that is and just how dangerous it can be as Tammi Jo faces the challenges of bringing her 737, with 149 souls aboard, to a safe landing in Philadelphia. One of her most admirable traits is generosity. She credits and NAMES everyone who helped in that crisis—the co-pilot, who never lost his cool; the three stewardesses, who knew exactly what to do despite being flung about the cabin like pinballs; and the passengers who took serious risks of their own trying to save the woman who’d been pulled halfway out the shattered window. When she says “commercial aviation “is a team sport,“ she means it. In these rather anti-religious times, some readers may shrink from author’s frequent references to her (non-denominational) Christian faith, but they shouldn’t: she credits her faith but doesn’t push it. For my part I have no religious beliefs at all, but if I’m aboard an airplane that’s doing it’s best to fall out of the sky and the pilot thinks “Help, me, Heavenly Father” while applying every ounce of her right stuff to get me and all the other “souls aboard” down in one piece, why, that’s jake with me, and I’d be a fool to think otherwise.—Bill Marsano is an elderly writer, editors and aviation buff who once looped-the-loop in over St, Francis, KA. in a Stearman biplane that was as old as he was.