There is a similar thread on this topic that was begun back in 2016. I posted there my experience with my wife's grandfather who was a World War 2 veteran. He was a stoic, Southern gentleman who opened up to me about the war in private. As it turned out, he had never spoken to anyone else about it. To be honest, it was not a pleasant experience for me. Here it was some 50 years or so after the fact and I saw PTSD up close. I don't think anyone knew just how much he had carried around with him all those years. And to this day, I'm not sure why he opened up to me.
His generation and his particular culture probably put him very near that of Southern veterans of the Civil War. I imagine his post-war experience in Mississippi was not unlike Civil War soldiers (at least from the South) after the war. In short, they suffered in silence.
Anyhow, this is what I wrote back in 2016 about that experience:
Early in college I was assigned a project where I interviewed WWII veterans. So I was pleased when I met my (future) wife's Grandfather who served in the 29th Infantry Div. in Europe.
One Easter I found myself alone with him in the backyard and took the opportunity to feel out a potential interview that I hoped to set up with a recorder, etc. in the future.
He seemed pleased. He had no problems recalling how he joined, where he trained and his time mobilizing in England. Those were mere recollections, memories.
However, he began talking about entering Saint-Lo after it had been bombed by the Allies. Suddenly, he seemed to no longer "recall" events, but was transformed in a way that rather felt to me that he was actually transported there (as if he were there at that very moment). He began to weep and for a very pious man, began using curse words. I tried to change the subject but he insisted that he continue. Again, we were alone. Amidst the weeping and cursing, I was able to hear him talk about having 2 kids of his own back in the states, and when he entered the outskirts of Saint-Lo he saw a half-blown tree among the ruins and in parts of the tree there was a little girl (here I will delete the very graphic description) who had been blown up into the branches. She had remnants of a red dress and blond hair.
He collapsed in a nearby swing and pressed his face into his hands and cried like I had never seen a man cry before. I didn't know what to do so I said nothing. After a bit, he recovered and simply said that they passed through town and the dead girl in the limbs and attacked a German position on a hill. Everyone in his platoon was killed or wounded. They shipped him to England, put him back together, then lovingly sent him back into combat just in time for (what I think) was the Bulge.
He cleared himself, stood erect and we shook hands before going back into the house for Easter dinner. I never asked him about it again.
Whether the memory of the little girl represented Moral Injury or PTSD, I'll never know, but whatever it was it was very real. Whenever I hear people occasionally question whether such things like Shell Shock or PTSD or Moral Injury are real things, I just keep my mouth shut. I just know what I saw and heard from an old warrior close up and in person, and I never want to see that again. They were truly a great generation!! Living with that pain in silence and without help, while living a very upright and honorable life, is about a brave and courageous thing I've ever seen!