My father fought in the war. He was born in 1919 and volunteered for the RAF in 1938. He served throughout the war until demob in 1946.
For the vast majority of the war he was in Bomber Command as a navigator, and for the majority of that on Lancasters. The odds were absolutely awful, with more than half being killed.
He spoke a bit about it to me as I was growing up. There were certainly bits of fun and high-jinks. he definitely enjoyed trips to London and some of the 'in general' camaraderie, but when I asked him about close friends, he said that they just didn't really form, that everyone was so aware that people might not come back that they didn't invest.
He was terrified of being labelled as "lack of moral fibre", as a coward. As tours wore on, he said you could sometimes literally see nervous tics developing in people, because everyone was bottling up fear. People also developed very strong superstitions, so there was a lot of pissing on the wheel, carrying rabbits feet, that sort of thing.
Glamour was definitely not part of it. he described rear gunners having to be cleaned from their turrets with hosepipes after being shot up.
He was aware of what bomber crews were doing to German civilians, but saw it as a necessary evil. He was upset at the treatment of Harris at the end of the war.
I would say that his attitude to war in general when I knew him was that it was an occasional necessary evil, but that it was something that people took far too lightly. That remote wars were easy for politicians to sanitize and use to their advantage. He was a supporter of CND, a big believer in the UN. He bore no animosity to Germany, but a great animosity to the nazis.
We should never, ever forget what these people went through for us.