The Lucky Bastard Club Of WW2

For a member of a bomber crew, flying deep behind deadly enemy lines was a harrowing experience. They had to wrestle with their fears and worries in order to form a rock-solid mentality to stay sane and calm in a dangerous battle situation. However, many were unable to suppress these fears and pilots often died all too soon in the flaming fuselage of their bomber airplane – this was so common that the B-24 was frequently given the nickname, “Flying Coffin”. It was notorious for being dive-attacked by enemy fighter planes when traveling to its target. Bomber aircraft were often caught in the middle of their journeys, high above enemy territory, and ambushed by the enemy air force. 

The Germans surrounded their obvious targets with flak and anti-aircraft guns, radar and other preventive measures designed to destroy bombers. Crew members made desperate attempts to stop radar from tracking them; sometimes they would throw out pieces of scrap metal and other broken parts to distract the signal. However, these may get stuck in the engines and cause further problems. A pilot would have to have excellent sight in order to navigate through burning and exploding shells and flak, but since the air forces became desperate throughout the war, many long and short-sighted or color-blind soldiers were recruited into bomber crews. The air forces were recruiting as many as they could; hundreds of bombardiers were barely old enough to be fighting and some were even below the official recruitment age. 

To add to the problems, the temperatures at high-altitude were extremely bitter and missions lasted hours. These conditions were horrendous. There were many bomber planes that returned to their bases with parts falling off, bullet holes across their fuselages and flaming engines. Thousands of bombers, notably B-17 and B-24s, were lost over Europe; most of them were ambushed while on their journeys to their targets. Tens of thousands of airmen had died by the end of the Second World War in 1945 and only a tiny percentage of pilots and crew members returned to their bases alive after their twenty-five missions.  

Therefore, many European bomber divisions decided to begin distributing rewards and certificates to those extremely lucky few who returned from their twenty-five missions alive. The certificate verified the crew member’s access to the “Lucky Bastard’s Club”, an appropriately named group of veterans who had survived the dreadful war. These men were treated with the utmost respect and credited immensely for their excellent work and bravery. Most of the time the survival of an airman was directly down to chance or fate. 

Members received a wallet-sized card which allowed them certain, enviable privileges. Upon return to their bomber base, they would be treated with an honorary dinner, which often included an expensive wine or a fancy meat. They were given a designated eating area or table in the mess hall. It was an extremely important and admired honor because the certificate proved that you were lucky enough to live through and survive the rigours of aerial warfare, which was usually the most dangerous form of fighting in the 20^th century. The elite ranks of “Lucky Bastards” were always ecstatic when they landed at their base on the last mission. 

The “Lucky Bastards” ceremony and certificate was only awarded to bomber plane crews that completed a notable number of intense and dangerous missions far behind enemy positions, where anti-aircraft and flak guns posed a serious threat to the aircraft. The certificates were often humorous – to relieve the pain and nasty experiences of fighting – but we also highly treasured. The award varied from unit to unit and each division had their own design, wording and typography. However, the certificate was in no way official and was not registered as a military award.Rather, it was a tradition of WWII Air Corps, a way to clear their minds and celebrate instead of mourning lost comrades, destruction and horror. Even so, a small portion of airmen received the “Certificate of Valor”, as it was also called, since it was extremely rare for a crew to return after twenty-five missions. 

Towards the end of the war, the number of missions needed for completion to be awarded a “Lucky Bastard’s Club” certificate was increased from twenty-five to thirty-five. This was because the air bomber crews gradually gained more experience and skill, and the death rates consequently decreased. Still, it was difficult to achieve a place in the “Lucky Bastards Club”.

Most people don’t even know about the “Lucky Bastards Club” or have no idea what it is. Those that do, however, are usually avid and enthusiastic collectors of the certificates (or replicas). Collectors gather all sorts of these cards nowadays (if you have one or know someone that has one, send a printed copy or image to a collector!)

“At 5 AM on October 3, 1942, I was awakened at a Mission hut in one of our bomber stations in England. It was dark, and for a moment I didn’t know quite where I was. The hut was so small that I could reach out on either side of me and touch the other officers in their beds. I wondered what I was doing awake at that hour. Then I remembered that the day before I had been assigned as pilot of a B-17 on a bombing operation over Occupied France. At the moment I didn’t know the exact location of the objective, but I had been told that it was a munitions plant that was now making goods of war for the Nazis.

I dressed quickly and gulped down the tea that was brought me. After that I went to the Intelligence Office where they gave me the exact location of the objective. My navigator, Lieutenant Thompson, of St. Louis, and my bombardier, Lieutenant Komarek, of Muskegon, Michigan, were there, and I then met them for the first time. We learned that the objective was the Potez plant at Meulte, in Occupied France.

Very shortly after we got news that the operation wouldn’t take off as planned, but we were to stand by. There was a good possibility that we’d get “on with it” – as the R.A.F says – before the day was out.” – Air Force Magazine: January, February, March 1943 p.7