Mom's brother crossed the beach a few days after the landing....toured France with Patton until he went MIA for two weeks during the Battle of the Bulge....was in a Tank Destroyer outfit that got over run. He escaped and evaded until he found friendly lines again at a place called "Bastogne".
He had some frozen turnips to eat during that furlough, crossed through German picket lines on three occasions, and only talked of his experience to me twice.
The first time he told me about it was when we were headed out for him to repair a church member's TV. I saw him put a sandwich in his pocket and knowing we were only going to be gone an hour or two asked him about that.
He stopped in mid-stride....got a very odd look on his face....and when we got into the car.....he told me the story. He said at the end....he promised himself he would never....ever....be that hungry again. Thus, the sandwich.
Tell me War doesn't affect you.
Uncle Bob was the hardest, most caring Man I ever met......and a Soldier.
I do believe they were the Greatest Generation.