
Well, yesterday, actually, but close enough.
Twenty years since my Dad went to fly with God.
You're missed, pal. You're missed.
(Above: Dad in June 1943 (it says so right there on the pic ;0)), in pilot school. He never graduated, but that's OK; he stayed behind and taught while most of his classmates were killed in the early bombing campaign over the Reich, most of which flights had a 5% casualty rate*.)
*5% doesn't seem so bad, does it? That's 5% shot down per mission. The chance of surviving to 25 missions and rotation home that first year?
(.95^25), or.... 28%
Which means the converse, 72%, died or were captured. That's a FAR higher casualty rate than even Iwo Jima.
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Keep it clean for gene.