My grandfather is a WWII veteran and when I asked him about it, all he said was: "I pray to God that I never killed a fellow human being. I couldn't live bearing such a guilt." He rarely ever talks about the war, he was only 17 when he was forced to join the army and it really must have hit him hard. He lost 2 brothers in that war, both never reached their 18th birthday. It's a painful memory for him. As you might have guessed, he doesn't possess a uniform or medals, not the slightest thing that reminds him of the past (apart from his wounded leg). And he doesn't like to talk about it.

Growing up and being confronted with my country's past I was wondering about how to treat my grandparents, well, the entire grandparents' generation. You start to wonder if those hands, giving you candy, ever killed a man, if those voices, wishing me Merry Christmas, ever yelled paroles of hatred.
However, they are, who they are. Especially those who are still alive today have been quite young back then, I wouldn't blame them. Sometimes I get the feeling they blame themselves - too much even. Many of them are having nightmares, are feeling terribly guilty. (I know one man who - despite of his age and bad health - regularly returns to a battlefield where he shot someone and lays down flowers for this unknown soldier)

I decided not to blame them, but to pity them.

And I bet that's the way, those veterans are treated today: either they are blamed, or pitied. Never heard of anyone being proud of them, as it seems to be the case in other countries.

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Schindler and I are like peas in a pod:we're both factory owners, we both made shells for the Nazis, but mine worked, dammit!

(Mr. Burns)