I'm sorry to say that, to both of these questions, the most likely answer is you probably wouldn't.

My sources for this are Jonathan Sumption's 'The Hundred Years War', but also lots of little passages from various books on the battles, including John Keegan's 'Face of Battle' and 'Edward III and the Triumph of England: The Battle of Crécy and the Company of the Garter' by Richard Barber.

But the simple truth is that if you were a respected member of the gentry or above, your body would be singled out and buried; if you were important enough, your body would be preserved and brought back to be buried, like King John of Bohemia. If not, your friends and men would have a quiet funeral, your grave would be marked, and these same men would communicate your death to your loved ones via messenger or in person upon their arrival.

That is if you were a knight, noble, or a man of high standing. If you were one of the serjeants, men at arms, archers, crossbowmen, yeoman, and general common soldiery of the Middle Ages, which statistically you almost certainly were, you would not be buried, as such. Keegan references the plough fields between Azincourt and Tramecourt as working as makeshift graves for many of the soldiery; the deep furrows were choked full of the dead, and there they were left. The reason for this is that in a battle, even a small one, there can be a lot of very heavy bodies being picked over; the logistical feat of burying them all is monstrous. If you were on the winning side, your mates might well bury you, if they could find your body.

But the majority of deaths in the Hundred Years War were not from battle, but a combination of raiding, skirmishes, diseases and starvation. Here, it was far more likely that you'd be buried; your friends would all put in some money for a plot of land and a priest and, as before, one of them would take word home to your loved ones when you went.

I remember reading all about this a long time ago, and being amazed at how quietly dedicated the regular soldiers were to their friends. Morgan Witzel and Marilyn Livingston in their book 'Road to Crecy: The English Invasion of France 1346' point to more than a few cases of men scouring the battlefield of Crecy for hours looking for the corpse of a friend. But it makes more sense; these men would share the worst hardships together, and they trusted and very much loved each other. A historian shouldn't be overly poetic - many of them were rapists and murderers - but it does point to a very real camraderie.

But many of them never went back. For a very large number of soldiers in the Hundred Years War, they went away, and simply didn't come back.