My dad was an MP at a POW camp in the Philippines. He said it was a pretty easy job as the Japanese prisoners realized they were on an island and couldn't really escape to anywhere, so they were a congenial bunch. Several were artists and occupied their time painting portraits of their hosts.
My dad's brother was a medic, but contracted pneumonia right out the gate and upon recovery spent the rest of the war trying to catch up to his platoon.
Dad's other brother was up in Los Alamos tinkering on some secret project. For ages nobody knew where he was or even much of the news as his letters home were heavily censored.
They all were from a small town and any war news made news. Our family still chuckles about one column that described their visit home as "....spending time strolling the family gardens" as the backyard was no more than 10x15 (a small stroll indeed.... Most likely they were all back there smoking)