My gramps on the father side was a motor bike scout and machine gunner for the Wehrmacht, did a long tour, Poland, Belgium, Russia etc. Was hit by Allied grenade fragments late into the war, stiff knee for the rest of his life and many fragments remained in his body. Still he would walk just fine and even drive cars and trucks - seldom complained and was happy to have survived. People back then were as tuff as nails for real. When he saw the first Rambo movie he said "we would have shown him" lmao (I guess the same goes for pretty much all soldiers from any party involved in WW2).
Other grandpa was a pacifist, faked illness with the help of a doctor. Robbed some place with others in the 40s, was placed in Dachau concentration camp. He was lucky and could escape towards the end of the war. Some guard let him pick fire wood with some other guy he basically dragged behind him most of the time (turned out later that he saved a murderer). He was very ill and only weighted 40kg when he escaped (his regular weight should have been at least 70kg). Some farmers in the area would take him in and cured his illness. He refused to talk much about this time, but one thing we got out of him was that people towards the end of WW2 in the camp were basically eating each other, due to lack of supplies. You would have to sleep standing/leaning against the wall to avoid being chewed at...
Yup, so that's why I turned out to be a crazy motherfucker... funny mix of genes (one grandma half Jewish and one from Eastern Europe). My grandfathers got along fine, despite their different backgrounds. Hopefully my story didn't offend anybody, just felt like sharing it.