My Father graduated highschool in the spring of 1943. He ate 3 pounds of bananas so that he would make the weight limit and joined the USAAF.
He was a gunner on a B-24 in the 15th Airforce stationed in Southern Italy. He flew all gunner positions but spent most of his time as a tail gunner. Nose gunner freaked him out because you could see the flak you were gonna fly through. In the winter of 43-44 he had a dream in which his dead grandmother came and told him he better not fly with the pilot that the crew had drawn for the next mission. He talked one other member of the crew into signing off as replacements, the remaining 6 enlisted crew didn't want to walk through the cold rain and mud to the operations tent to sign off. On the subsequent mission, the plane my father would have been in took a direct flak hit with a full bomb load, no one got out, he saw the whole thing. It hit him pretty hard, he was 18 and this was the crew he had trained with, they had flown the plane over from the states, they were close. After the death of his crew he flew what were known as 'grey ghost' missions; a single B-24 (painted grey) would fly in bad weather and drop propaganda leaflets or chaf. He flew a total of 54 combat missions.
He ended the war as a gunnery instructor at an airbase in Texas. He had actually volunteered for B-29 crew duty in the Pacific because his best friend from home had just enlisted and was bound for the Pacific as a B-29 Gunner.