I ran into a B-17 Bomb Group reunion at a hotel a couple of years ago -- asked an old guy which group it was. I can't remember which bomb group it was but he was damn proud that it was a B-17 group, bragging it was supercharged and flew higher that the B-24 that I mentioned my dad flew. True, I think, but there were more B-24s, and there were more of them. Not to take credit from the B-17 types, but it was funny to me to notice that the old bomber pilots are every bit as egomaniacal as the newer fighter jocks.
My dad was in that bomb group that flew to Ploesti -- luckily for me he didn't arrive in-theater until late '44. They took lots of casualties right up til the end of the war, even in times of air superiority and 1000-ship formations, but the odds of surviving were much better compared to '43, and the disastrous experimental low-level raids on Ploesti.
I remember how much planning, sheer work, and maintenance it took to get 30 helicopters up in the air on one night, it was unreal. To get THAT many flying is just an amazing feat all by itself. I know a B-17 ball turret guy, he went through a bit of hell himself. Nicest guy you’d ever meet - always has a smile and something good to say.
My father was also a B-24 pilot, flying out of Italy. Most of his missions were into Hungary and Romania in very late 1944 and then into 1945.
The more I read of what those aircrews did (all of them), the more astounded I am at their level of courage and sense of duty.
Semper Fi,