My father was an artilleryman during WWII. He was practically deaf in his left ear. He never talked to me about the war until I went in the military.
I was the only one of my siblings to join the military and was the only one he would share his experiences with.
My father also served in WWII and when I graduated from school, I told my dad I was going to go into the military. He outright forbid me from doing it. Between my mom and dad's families, they lost 5 men in the war. My dad told me that he didn't want another drop of our blood shed in the military. I obeyed him, went on to a decent career and retired at 55. I have had a happy life, but I still wish my dad would have given me his graces.
A bit of a back story. My dad should have been the 6th family member to have died in WWII. He was injured in France, shipped over to England, where he spent a year in the hospital there. From England, he spent almost another 2 years at Walter Reed. For all this, they gave him a disability of $25 a month, which increased over the years to $45 at his death. Needless to say he was bitter.