Speaking of a pile brass, my first wife's father was in the Ozark Division in WW2. He rarely spoke of any of his experiences. He was a great guy and we became very close. I would help him put up swarms of honey bees when no one else would. While setting watching a swarm go in a hive he just started talking. This is his story.
He was given six German prisoners to take back to a holding compound about three miles back. They would start to scatter on the road, he rounded them up and they did it again. He was carrying a BAR and did a mag dump down the tarmac, dropped the mag and popped another in. Said you could have planted taters in it. I can't write his exact words but he basically told them they had killed his brother in Italy and didn't really care if he took them back or not. Said he doesn't know if they understand English, tone of voice or BAR. One of the six had more rank, he walked to the left of center and barked a few orders. They formed two abreast and three deep and goose stepped all the way to the compound.