I guessing you skipped history class and had no relatives who lived through the war.
Or you are kidding-and it is far from funny.
In the future it would behoove you to refrain from speaking out your ass. Since you don't know me I will fill you in - then go ahead with your inaccurate and inflammatory statements.
I was born in late 1944 - just a week or so after my father was very seriously wounded in the Battle of Leyte Gulf. He was an amphibious tank commander during the invasion and lived the remainder of his life with those severe injuries and the pain that goes with them. He had a pit in his upper arm the size of a softball that a Japanese mortar fragment had taken out. The corpsmen had sewn back together as much of his arm as could be found but for the rest of his life this man, who was an accomplished horseman (he originally joined the US Army in 1940 as a member of the 7th Cavalry then was switched to armor later in the war), guitar player, writer, leather and wood worker had to learn to use his one remaining functioning hand. He spent several years at Letterman Hospital in San Francisco relearning to use both arms but particularly his battered right arm.
The single time I ever heard him complain was one night when he dropped his Thermos trying to open our front door. He received a military disability for the rest of his life as a result of that injury. But he was one of the lucky ones he used to say. At least he came home and lived a pretty normal life.
When I was a pre-teen he would invite other vets to our house for dinner or just to play cards. Most seemed pretty normal on the surface but it was easy to tell that some were deeply troubled by what they had gone through. My dad used the term "shell shock" to describe some of them and I never remember them talking about the war except to describe their respective units.
He did share some of his experiences with me, his only son at that time, and unintentionally convinced me I didn't want to be a soldier when the time came. My time came in 1962 just five days after high school graduation when I joined the US Navy and was sent to Viet Nam one year later. We didn't know about Viet Nam then. When I was in high school it was called Indo China. I didn't learn was a quagmire it was until we landed just two weeks before the infamous Gulf of Tonkin attack. I was "lucky" though and left two years later with just a little blue mark in my left shoulder from a mortar round. Had I not been carrying a field radio on my back I likely would have joined my dad in severe injury or worse. I lost one cousin over there, a helo pilot and have had several other close childhood friends die young of injuries during that conflict. My cousin had been in-country only a few weeks. He wasn't lucky. When I got home my country was kind enough to require me to join the active reserve and threaten me with mandatory reactivation. I won't spell out what my answer was as I am sure you can guess.
Suffice to say you do not know what you are talking about and I am absolutely positive you would not have said what you did to my face. I do not want your thanks for serving as it was not my choice. I also don't want any pity for many thousands have suffered much more than I. I would just request you to shut your pie hole about things of which you have no personal knowledge. Your comment was disgraceful.