The motto of the U.S. Air Force First Fighter Wing is aut vincere aut mori—Latin for "Conquer or Die"—but there might still be one area of unvanquished territory: the dance floor. As the military's most elite fighter squadron makes superfly moves to Van McCoy's 1975 classic "The Hustle" at the Bayside Enlisted Club on Langley Air Force Base, Virginia, it's clear that staying in formation at Mach 2 is nothing compared to the difficulty of staying in sync for a line dance. The 400–strong military mitzvah is commemorating the Air Force's sixtieth anniversary, and has drawn everyone from pilots to the people who keep them going 1,200 mph: maintenance crews, flight medics, intelligence officers, cooks, security forces, psychiatrists, and, of course, their ranking officer, Brig. Gen. Mark Barrett. They're all clad in full midnight–blue "mess dress" uniform—the military approximation of a tuxedo—with brightly colored service medals on their chest pockets. "It's a little unorthodox, but instead of doing a boring sit–down dinner, we wanted to do something more social," Command Chief Master Sgt. James MacKinley tells me of the buffet–style hoedown. "I've got the sprinkler down, and the lawn mower," MacKinley adds, feigning a dance routine. "Actually, I have as much rhythm as a pair of crutches."

No matter: The First Fighter Wing does its best work off the ground. Comprising 89 pilots and 4,300 support staff, it's the oldest group of aces in the Air Force and the first squadron to fly the unearthly F–22A Raptor, one of the fastest, most insanely superior—and at $138 million each, one of the most expensive—warplanes in the world. On 9/11, it was Langley jets that scrambled to intercept (and prepared to shoot down) hijacked planes, and should Washington ever again come under attack, the First Fighter Wing will take to the skies. (Not to mention their sorties overseas, from Serbia to Afghanistan to Iraq.) But tonight, they're at ease—ready to afterburn the candle at both ends.

Back on the dance floor, Brig. Gen. Barrett summons the longest–serving (Col. Dwight Brasswell) and most newbie (Airman Jade Pina) members to ceremonially cut the cake with a military saber, and the rest of the Wing breaks into song, clapping along in unison: "Off we gooooo, into the wild blue yon–der, climbing hiiiigh into the sun…We live in fame or go down in flame—Hey! Nothing can stop the U.S. Air Forrrrrce!"