I lost a couple of friends that way, who rotated out before I did. We all had plans to get together in Old Forge, PA, for pizza. It was the one thing we all agreed was worth traveling from all across the country for. After we were all stateside, we did it. But four of the guys never made it. They'd all eaten a gun, at some point.
I always considered myself damned lucky I never had PTSD, although we didn't call it that, back in the day. And there were so many vets in my family, that if you chucked a rock at the family reunion, you'd hit a vet. They were all available to help me, and the couple of my friends who were nearby, deal with stuff. We could respect them, because they'd seen the same $#@!, or maybe even worse. At least we didn't have to deal with something like Auschwitz.