My Dad spent the record-cold winter of 1945 as an infantryman, sleeping in foxholes if the ground wasn’t too hard to shovel. His task as a newbie in the Hurtgen Forest/Ardennes was to retrieve dead and injured from the hillsides in hip-deep snow. Under fire.
He told me of nights they marched until they dropped, slept til they woke from shivering, rinse and repeat. Machine gun fire, rockets and air warfare were frequent companions. All to help in the cause of making Europe free and ensuring our own freedom.
The “refugees” might think of that as they await sleep on a cold night.
Your father belonged to the race of supermen called the Greatest Generatio who saved the world--for video games and political correctness.