Sandisondaughter,
What a magnificent service record ! I have always been humbled by the thought of Bomber Command operations. To do just one such 'op' meant hand-flying a lumbering, heavy, four engined unheated aircraft (with no power assistance), non-stop (apart from the help your f/e could give), for seven or eight hours or more through a freezing night. You would be dodging searchlights and flak and all the time at risk of being raked by the fire of a night fighter who had sudddenly appeared out of the darkness.
Added to this was cloud, rain and ice, maybe fog when (if) you got back.You dare not fly straight and level for any length of time (apart from when you must, say, to allow your Nav to make a star sight), as that would make you an easy target. You knew the odds against you.
Having done all that, and got home to enjoy your breakfast egg, in my book it was worth a medal. But you knew that in two or three days, you'd be called on to do it all again. And again and again, thirty times, before a rest. You knew that your chances of surviving one tour were 42%, to survive two 17%, after that virtually nil.
It needs a special kind of man not to break under a strain like that, and I salute your Dad and all the brave men of the Command. My 'ops' in Burma were child's play in comparison, and I've often wondered how I would have behaved in his position. I hope I'd have been up to it - but you can never be sure.
There are a few questions and comments on your excellent Posts, but this is not the place for them. They can wait. Thank you for telling your Dad's story.
Cheers, Danny.