I know that a lot of war stories in these forums concern WWII, but let me share a story from my family that goes all the way back to the Late Unpleasantness of the 19th Century.
My great-great-grandfather, Simeon Fletcher Culpepper, was a volunteer and an infantryman from north Georgia. He fought at Harper's Ferry and at Gettysburg, where he was wounded. He survived both the war and the doctor's treatment of his wound and, in 1913, went back to Gettysburg for a reunion of veterans of the battle. After the official festivities were over, Mr. Culpepper went and found the oak tree that he had been hiding behind when he was shot. Of course, after fifty years, the tree had grown considerably, but he brought home a twig from the tree as a souvenir.
Not that big a deal, but this is the rest of the story, as Paul Harvey used to say. While Mr. Culpepper was looking for the tree, he encountered a man and introduced himself, and asked what the other fellow was doing. "Well," he said, "I shot a Johnny Reb around here somewhere and he was hiding behind one of these oak trees. I was looking for the tree." So Mr. Culpepper said, "I am that man you shot."
The two men exchanged addresses and through their correspondence, became friends, even exchanged Christmas cards until Mr. Culpepper died in 1929. I always figured if those two men could be friends, I could be friends with just about anybody.