You might think that is true, but only if you have never had to bear the responsibility of being the one that came home with no reason why you survived and others died. Even for otherwise well-adjusted people, the psychological trauma of that experience can be overwhelming, leading to depression, anxiety, self-medication with drugs and alcohol, et cetera; in short, a living hell.
As a practical matter, while Cpt. Miller and his squad are roving over Normandy looking to rescue Pvt. Ryan, they’re not only putting themselves as risk but neglecting the conduct of the war and effective termination of hostilities, thus ensuring that more mother’s sons are going to die pointlessless, all to rescue Matt Damon. Don’t get me wrong, I think Damon is a fine actor and a good sport, but it makes even less sense to send a squad of Rangers to rescue him in the middle of a battlefield than it does to send a spacecraft back around to Mars to rescue him and in the process exposing the crew to more risk and exceedance of lifetime space radiation exposure limits. The film appeals to the desire that one person is oh-so-important, but in fact, on the battlefield they just aren’t. The film has a great first twenty minutes followed by a ridiculously saccharine story, and as for “all the good the squad did” pretty much amounted to taking out one sniper and one machinegun nest, then letting one of the soldiers go, which would come back to haunt them. Kelly’s Heroes made more sense than this.
Also, the first thing a real Ranger would do once hitting the beach would be to pry those shiny new captain’s bars off of his helmet so as to not be an instant target for every German sniper and rifleman. It’s surprising Miller actually made it all the way to find Ryan at all.