My dad was a fighter pilot in the Vietnam War, did lots of badass stuff like solo supersonic low-level night bombing runs etc., very highly decorated. My favorite story is the time a SAM hit him and his F105 was full of holes and on fire, but he figured he could still control the plane so no point in ejecting. So he flew it all the way back to the base in Thailand. The heat burned an ironic peace symbol on his chest before the fire went out. They just bulldozed the plane off the end of the runway after he landed, and he got severely chewed out.

My mom was plenty badass herself. Was a flight attendant for World Airways, flying into hot areas. Occasionally had to jump into foxholes with a bunch of soldiers, poor thing. Before that she was the sole survivor of a Corvair that went over a cliff, busted her up pretty bad, and when she got pregnant with me doctor after doctor told her to have an abortion, because giving birth would kill her. She was very Catholic, though, and obviously had me. Almost did kill her, too. She was hospitalized for months after. For some reason, she had two more kids after that. Guess you just gotta keep running that play until you get it right.

One other quick story: One of my mom's brothers was in the Army then. Big M60 guy. When my mom and dad had just started dating, she told him that nobody in the family had heard from her brother in a long time and they were getting worried and could he help out? My dad eventually tracked him down. Turns out a grenade had gone off near my uncle's leg, and he was in a hospital recovering (he did, and went right back to armying after). So there's my uncle, lying in a hospital room with several other soldiers, minding his own business, when in comes a pissed off Chair Force officer in a flight suit who marches right up to him, sticks his finger in his face, says "Call your mother," and stomps out again.