My grandfather turned 20 years old D-DAY plus four after having landed on Omaha Beach at the end of the first wave as a combat engineer. He was the most humble man I’ve ever known. When I was a boy he didn’t talk about the war often but when he did he always expressed survivor’s guilt with an expression of pain and sorrow on his face that is hard to describe. I miss him dearly.
My Father also landed at Normandy on Utah beach several days after D-Day. They were very fortunate as they were originally scheduled to land on D-Day but engine trouble forced their ship to delay.
He was also a Combat Engineer.
I hope, for your grandfather’s sake- that someone, many someones assured him that his actions SAVED lives, even as he himself survived. No greater gift than for him to have risked his life to blow up barb wire, tank traps and bunkers with machine guns— to stop the even greater slaughter that would have occurred without his incredible bravery. His humble bravery, as he watched his fellow soldiers blown to bits and cut down. The Lord had a plan for him, to survive. Deo Vindice (With God Our Defender).
Mine was in South Pacific- working with Aussie Coastwatchers many his friends- several of whom were discovered by Japanese and beheaded after torture. He never forgot their bravery, or the bravery of the Filipino guerrillas who went ashore with them, armed with machetes and M1911s in little rubber boats— in full moonlight. Just in awe of them.