My uncle survived the war in the Pacific. The grave of my Grandad's brother lies amid the poppy fields of France, and I've sat & wept by the headstone. My Grandad survived (air-support), but could never speak about what happened, & would fight panic at the sight of a coal fire. One evening in 1941 his friends made the airfield, but the plane broke-up on landing; they found my Grandad trying to dig his friends out of the runway, in the dead of night... the part of him that died with them, never returned.