I was walking down a main street that leads to the highway to NYC in my town during rush hour one morning, and a guy walking on the other side of the street started lurching, went into the road, fell down and started having convulsions.
I ran out into the road in front of him and started directing traffic around him. I was counting the cars, and number 13 was a van who stopped in front on me, put on his blinkers, came out and said “Get out of the road before you get hit.” I hadn’t even thought of that when I did it.
True Brit said it well. “Bravery is something that happens.”
I crawled out of a bunker during a very intense mortar and rocket barrage (1969 Tet offensive) to find my buddy. I had reached a bunker but he didn’t. It was only 30-40 feet, but it was dark and it took me a while to find him. When I found him, I asked him if he was hurt. He said he was OK, so I told him to come with me and started crawling back to the bunker. I was about halfway back when I realized he wasn’t with me. I went back for him and dragged him to the bunker.
I didn’t, and still don’t, think it was much, but it is the only thing about the war that my friend has ever told his wife.