I couldn't imagine having to face that dilemma.
Dad was a machine gunner. He hasn't talked about the war much, except to describe the action he was in when the Turkish Brigade got them out of a real jam (which was told me as background in describing the only fistfight to ever happen at my Grandmother's dinner table). He was one of only two guys in his outfit who could walk off that ridge. The rest were carried.
I don't push. Some things are best left alone.
He came home, got a job, married mom, they had three kids, took us hunting and fishing, taught us how to handle a firearm from an early age, pushed us to get a real education, helped us with college, and served the community, too--he is still active (in administration) of the local VFD--at 90.
I have few heroes in this life, but he is at the top of my list, along with his bride (my Mom) of 69 years.
I have no illusions about just how lucky I have been to be their son.