The poor man's 633 Squadron. A distinct sense of déjà vu prevails in an ill-starred attempt to emulate the heroics of its vastly superior predecessor, and from which entire sequences have been lifted to pad out this facetiously shallow wartime yarn. The astonishment factor soars almost unchecked at the disturbingly large quantity of footage borrowed from this WW2 masterpiece, with no escape, either, for Operation Crossbow, as doodlebugs fall on London in the opening sequence. If that's not all, any number of nods towards The Dam Busters and its bouncing bombs, the Flight Lieutenant's false arm and some inevitable love-interest really stretch tolerance to breaking point. A veritable showcase of wasted talent, featuring woefully miscast David McCallum muddling his way like a lost schoolboy through this low-budget patchwork of hijacked snippets which is further handicapped by a frequently weak script. His performance is so wooden, the Mosquitos dragged out of mothballs for the standard aviation shenanigans appear by comparison to be manufactured from 24-carat gold. A death-slide down which other formidable talents hurl themselves with reckless abandon, including Charles Gray as stuffed shirt Air Commodore Hufford, who joins the heavily-swollen ranks of high-ranking brass hats glibly claiming that one daring raid will take "years off the war". Not entirely without merit, however, as the opposition carries off the plaudits. Dinsdale Lansden as hard-boiled Wing Commander "This mission goes ahead" Penrose brings an acerbic edge to some of the more irksomely cosy RAF banter, while Vladek Sheybal's brief appearance as the smiling, unforgiving Kommandant of Chateau Charlon outshines the rest of the allied cast. His murder of a priest ranks among the few arresting moments that redeem this limp montage, along with Scotty's sacrifice to destroy a trigger-happy tank. Distinctly below-par boy's-own stuff, though enjoyably awful.