In cold Assisi in December 1992, two older Italian couples on the street asked me a question, thinking I was Italian; when they realized I was American (speaking very little Italian), they insisted on taking me to a cafe and buying me a coffee. The wife of one translated for her husband, who started crying; "When my family was hungry in 1945 American soldiers shared their own food with us."
Wow that is just wonderful.
My mother, (who is French and spent WWII in Cairo), I know has a special sentiment for Americans and the liberation of Paris. She ended up marrying an American, and voted for Dubya, both times :)