My mother was a 13 yo Dutch schoolgirl. Except there was not much for school in 1944. The Germans had taken everything, and the Dutch were hungry, starving and desperate. That year her parents would send her north to live on a farm with relatives, so that she may at least eat.
My wife's uncle was a young, young man in the American army in England, preparing to embark on a hellish journey to the shores of France. He and thousands of others came ashore on the bloody beaches that day, and ultimately won the day. Eventually they won the war, but my wife's uncle is buried in a field in France, along with so many others.
Had it not been for their sacrifice, neither I nor my siblings would ever have been born.