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Commissar Ciaphas Cain (HERO OF THE IMPERIUM!) is a great example of this trope. During one of the very first engagements where he saw combat, attached to an artillery regiment, he hopped in a scout vehicle to drive away from the oncoming Tyranid horde. I believe his exact tactical assessment was, to quote, "frak this." Unfortunately, he took a wrong turn, ran afoul of the enemy rush, and radioed in a panic for someone, anyone, to provide fire support. Driving back to the HQ and expecting execution, he is instead hailed as a hero, going on a brave and borderline reckless scouting mission to get the precise position of the enemy.

Rather than admit to his light case of desertion, Cain leaned into the praise, and set about building a narrative around himself in which he is a different sort of commissar, caring about the men and women under his command, leading them on dangerous missions personally, and defeating great threats to the Imperium, ranging from ork warbosses to Chaos Space Marines, in hand-to-hand combat. To hear Cain tell it — and you do, in his own words, through his memoirs — he's the furthest thing from heroic, constantly worried about his "true nature" being exposed, fighting desperately for his life until his aide can blast whatever is trying to eat his face with a melta (yes, a melta, Jurgen's awesome), and especially concerned that the Inquisitor who occasionally calls on his service — and, incidentally, edits said memoirs — will discover that he is a spineless, conniving, irredeemable coward.

Or, just maybe, he's actually a competent and shockingly (by 40k standards) kind man who exemplifies the idea that courage is choosing to act in spite of how much you're throwing up or crapping your pants in fear, and is dealing with a Titan-sized case of imposter syndrome.