My uncle Hoyt was a glider pilot. The concept of flying into potential anti-aircraft fire with, basically, balsa wood to protect you always struck me as...uh...ballsy? I remember when he first told me what he did in the war and, as a 12-year-old with no filter on my mouth but some knowledge of WWII, I just blurted out "Uncle Hoyt! I didn't know you were crazy!" He just said "Everybody did what we had to do."...troops smile from the door of their Horsa glider...