Day 11 of Movember, Remembrance Day

My second youngest brother is a soldier. He has been one for the past 13 years. It is hard for me to imagine what life as a soldier must be like, specially for a man who used to have a very sensitive soul as a child and a teenager. I know the reasons why he joined the Spanish Army to begin with: he was lucky enough to get sent to the High Mountain Infantry squadron in the north of the country for his, back then still compulsory, one year Military Service.
He loved it there: the great outdoors and all the sports they got to practise (skiing, climbing, abseiling, scuba diving... ) enticed him to stay put. The fact that the only thing waiting for him back home was a job that kept him indoors from before sunrise until after sunset made the choice even simpler. All he had to do was sign up for 2 more years...
I don't know if, back then, he envisioned himself as ever been in the middle of difficult, conflict (or even war), zones but, as he moved to Pamplona Military HQs after that first year, he started having a taste of what living in constant danger means. ( I remember all too clearly when his own sub-liutenant was blown away by an ETA bomb, Pamplona being part of the terrorists domain, back in the first few years of his career).
I've been worried about his welfare ever since but I only started to worry about his soul (altough I'm not religious, I prefer that word to any others when refering to 'heart and mind' issues) when he started to do 'his job' as a 'peacekeeper' with the UN forces first in Kosovo, later in Afghanistan.
He spent, altogether, one and a half years in Kosovo (three separate missions) and, even if he experienced hardship and the death of some friends, he was always able to talk us through his experience and he shared photographs and stories of Love and Friendship bonds created with the population they were trying to protect and help back on their feet. ( My brother's name is Jesus and everyone at the Base joked about the fact that, just like THE Jesus, he was always surrounded by small children: telling them stories, teaching them Spanish, cleaning their runny noses... )
My dearest brother doesn't speak about Afghanistan. He spent ten months there ( two missions) and, if  he ever mentions anything, his comments come out resentful, fearful and even xenophobic at times. That person is not my brother; he cannot be. My brother is loving and caring and trustful... or is he? I fear to ask if he ever killed anyone... but isn't that in a soldier's job description?
War does bad things to good people... NEVER FORGET. NEVER AGAIN (and it keeps happening every day of the week...)