My dad was in the Korean war. When I was very young and stupid, I asked him if he ever shot anyone.
He kinda looked off in the distance away from me and never said a word...
It wasn’t until years later, after he passed, I found out he had been a medic...
Wish I had an hour to sit and talk with that man.
I had an uncle, a surgeon, who served in WW2 and I used to ask him about it in my youth. He'd smile and change the subject.
After he passed my mom told me that he had volunteered with a number of doctors at this hospital and (I guess you you could do this back then) they all went together to North Africa where they set up a hospital to treat the wounded. It was in the rear, so safe. The wounded would end up getting battlefield treatment and transferred to some sort of aid station where a train would take them up to the hospital, several hours journey away. They were still in bad shape at that point though. Someone had to ride on that train full of horridly wounded men to keep them alive and, I suppose in some instances, comfort them in their final moments. My uncle got the job. I'm sure he couldn't do much on that train but I'm also sure he did what he could. I'm sure he saw some terrible, terrible things. It was not something I think he enjoyed thinking about and I do regret reminding him but how was I to know? Thank God men like him left their comfortable lives and saved the world.
My old dad was in Marine reserves after the Korean war, and before Nam. He had a Korea vet squaddie, who, after a few beers, would stare far away and answer that question, “Did I ever kill anybody? Well I guess I did. They just kept coming and I just kept shooting and they wouldn’t stop... So I guess I did.”