In keeping with Don's comment, it was much the same at our house.
Mom walked in to wake Dad, and got grabbed and thrown onto the bed with hands on throat.
He kissed her and asked her to never do that again. Just say his name quietly and he would answer. This is what I did as a kid growing up. All I had to do was say "Dad" in a normal tone once. He would answer me.
One of his neighbors had a bunch of kids. One of the Daughters was and still is in the Marines. Dad was napping in the yard when she went outside to practice with her trumpet.She played Boots and Saddles. He was up like a shot!
Some things you never forget, even into your seventies.
So Dad told me that he was a guest of the North Koreans for three days, when their position was over run.
He said that they would roll a ball of sticky rice across the dirty floor to you. If you reached out to take it they would strike you on the hand with a cane with a cartridge attached to it. They would then say Dong Ho? (Sp?) Does it hurt?
He wouldn't eat the rice. Said he lost a bunch of weight in three days.
I asked him how he got out of that? He said the Rope Runners came and got him.
"Rope Runners?" I asked him? The 101st Airborne. Fitting, as Dad was 11Th Airborne.
As I have aged I have come to understand that I know very little of the man I call Dad.
The man that used to come home after 10 to 12 hours at the plant, and drop his lunch pail at the steps on his way to pick up his ball glove is just one small part.