The thought of flying imperfect high performance fighter aircraft several miles above the earth at hundreds of miles per hour with lead flying in all directions trying to focus on bringing down a bomber loaded with death for your parents, children, wife leads men to perform extraordinary feats. Just getting a kill would be a remarkable achivement. And for the B17 crews, thousands of miles from home, in the cold emptieness of 25,000 feet, fingers numb, watching his friends fall from the sky in blazing infernos knowing full well you may be next. WWII was brutal, cold, death in every possible form waiting in ambush.
Any one of those men was both hero and villan, there are no real sides, just death.
__________________
|