My Dad was a 19 year old British Infantry Corporal when he hit the Normandy Beaches on D-Day. He survived that and continued through the rest of 1944 and the start of 1945. Then, on February 13th 1945, he was leading a platoon on a cold winter night across an open field in the Ardennes forest. With a full moon out he was reluctant to cross the field but was assured that it had been cleared and was safe. As they reached the middle of the field a German MG42 opened up on them. To these common British soldiers that machine gun, with its distinctive sound, was known simply as a "Spandau" after the German arsenal there, and it hit them with devastating results in that every one in the platoon, with the sole exception of my father, was dead. He was badly wounded though and managed to crawl off the field and luckily right into a British first aid squad. His left arm was shattered and he told me he only survived because unusually for a corporal, he was also a Bren gunner and the packs of .303 ammunition he carried protected his upper body. He was dressed in the field - and told he would lose the arm - and was shipped back to England. Many surgeries later, thanks to bone removed from his lower leg plus a stainless steel rod, followed by two years of therapy and he was demobbed from the Army. From then on he lived a normal life, even if he did set off every airport metal detector he ever passed through!