I used to know a guy who was a Ranger, decorated combat veteran, all that stuff, who used to say they’d never get him into a tank. That was even before drones came along.
Funny thing, that. People would rather live in the Hell they know, rather than the one they don't.
There is a great story about Chesty Puller when he was on Guadalcanal, and got cut off by Japanese forces, and needed to be extracted by a destroyer (USS Monssen) offshore who came in close and took he and his men aboard.
At the time, the Marines were having a very tough time of it, food, supplies, air cover, and ammunition were all in short supply, and the Japanese were, from skill set and force level perspectives battling at nearly par with the Americans.
So, he came aboard the destroyer, and the crew treated those men like kings, and offered to keep them aboard longer, but when the time came, Puller took the first opportunity to take himself and men back ashore to resume the fighting in the mud, slime, insects and putrid death.
This is how the US Naval Institute related the story from the perspective of the skipper of the USS Monssen:
Through the years, many of those who served with and admired legendary Marine Lieutenant General Lewis Burwell “Chesty” Puller have reminisced in their Naval Institute oral histories. At Guadalcanal, Navy Vice Admiral Roland N. Smoot was a commander, skipper of the destroyer USS Monssen (DD-436) escorting the USS Alhena (AKA-9), which was bringing supplies to the Marines in fierce fighting ashore and taking on board the wounded. Smoot also was answering calls for gunfire support from the units ashore.
My men were looking at the beach and saw a man wigwagging at them, way up high in the hills. We were all pretty leery of the Japanese. I asked my signalman, “Isn’t there some kind of recognition system that we have?” On a hunch, he wigwagged the question, “Who won the World Series in 19--?” and it came back correct.
We sent a boat in and out came Chesty Puller, his aide, and a couple of Marines. He came up to the bridge and said, “I’ve got to get some men out of trouble. They are trapped up there. I doggone near lost my life getting down to the beach. Let me tell you where to shoot.”
So he went up into control with my gunnery officer, and we just turned loose on this island. We ploughed it with bullets, straight up and down the middle. Then we spread the fire power up two sides, and the Marines came down to the beach between. We sent for landing boats, and they arrived in good time. Of course, Chesty was duly thankful and we became great and close friends.
After it was all over, and while I was steaming slowly back to the landing area to let Chesty off, he went below and had a shower. We washed and dried his clothes. He ate a great dinner. As he went over the side, he said, “Thank you very much. God, I wouldn’t have your job for anything in the world.” I said, “You’ve seen the kind of life I lead out here and you prefer yours?” He said, “I sure do. When you get hit where are you? When I get hit, I know where I am.”
And he had a point. Most people don't know, but the US Navy lost four times as many men killed in the naval battles and operations around the Solomons during the Guadalcanal campaign, and in a most brutal and barbaric fashion, too. (The book: "Neptune's Inferno" is about the naval campaigns, and the bloody carnage aboard ships subjected to naval gunfire, torpedoes, and the predations of sharks once they went into the water is chilling to read. The story of the sinking of the USS Wasp is underreported when compared to that of the USS Indianapolis, but the stories of men being taken by sharks in that sinking were suppressed for years, not only by the Navy, but by the men who witnessed them.
So at least when it came to the Solomons in 1942, Chesty Puller knew of what he spoke.
I knew an officer in a Stryker Brigade, who said he'd never want to go to war in them. He said he would feel safer in a Bradley, which apparently is more protected.