[Yesspaz]

My dad was a U.S. Army Reserve for Vietnam. He never saw action.
My paternal grandfather was in the Army, and landed on Utah Beach at Normandy on D-Day. He was in the second wave. He once got trapped behind enemy lines with another soldier. They were demolition guys and were supposed to blow up bridge, but the German convoy was earlier than expected, so they had to hide under the bridge while the Germans crossed. After dark, they set the explosives, blew the bridge, and made their way back to Allied territory, but since they line moved, they were behind the line. They came across two drunk German sentries by a campfire (who had no reason to think two Americans were lurking in the woods). They were lit by firelight, so my grandfather and the other guy each took one out with simultaneous shots. They took their uniforms, helmets, and rifles and made it back to Allied territory. My grandfather got to keep the helmet and the rifle, a Mauser. He squirrel-hunted with it until he died in 2000.