I've met soldiers on both sides of the "after war" thing.

My cousin Matt was a Staff Sergeant in the Marines and, from what little I know, was involved with Artillery in Afghanistan. When he got out, he'd married his girlfriend (who's a little weird, but a good person), and has two kids. He worked as a recruiter for a while (sidepoint: military recruiters in high schools piss me off), and now he's looking for something else.

Matt is a great guy. He's down to earth, he's kind, good humored. He's not an asshole. I'm sure he's seen some shit, and I'm sure most of his problems stay tucked up in his head, but he's got a family and friends he loves and they love him, and he's stable. He's pretty much what I hope the result is for my friend. Safe, stable, alive.

I worked with a guy who was a medic in the Army. Older than Matt, and he had seen some shit. He was a rough guy. Biker, classic rock, and heavy metal. Drank and smoked, the kind of guy who, when his kids got picked on told them, "stand up for yourself and punch that shit in the face."

He was a good guy too, but had problems with alcohol. DWIs, mostly. Always got the impression that he was into some drugs as well, but I rather doubt it was anything "hard." I've got a lot of experience in seeing people who're slave to the syringe, and he never had any of those signs. He's rough, but fuck does he love his kids. I wouldn't want to step between him and them.

The darker ones I met at Alcoholic Anonymous meetings. My dad used to take me to them when I was living with him in East St. Louis. I, being 12 or 13 years old, couldn't go into the actual meetings, but I'd sit in the little kitchenette area outside. The guy who was there (I guess he either worked the kitchen, or just stayed out there to keep me company) was a black guy in probably his 60's. I don't remember a whole lot about him, but I do remember him saying he'd served and ended up surgically attached to the bottle for a while afterwards.