My dad landed in France in a glider in WWII. I can't imagine what he went through, but I grew up watching him manage his PTSD with beer and Crown. He worked every day and drank every night. He was honest and beat his values into me. I've spent a lot of years and money dealing with those early experiences and unfortunately good people have become collateral damage. But, in retrospect I learned a lot from him and had I been open to it, I could have learned much more. I'd give anything to still have his worn fedora.
My Dad may have towed your Dads glider. He was in the 9th Air Force C-47s. Looking back, now that I know about PTSD, my Dad and all his friends and relatives that were there had it. Only one of my Dads friends didn't drink, he retired as an Lc. He was shrewd, new to stay sober and watch the other officers get drunk, then use it to his advantage! I think that conniving may have been a different form of PTSD!