Touché. You're both right; ironical isn't it?
My Dad never spoke about the bad bits only the parts about the rough seas and the cold. When I was at home for his 80th birthday party I mentioned an incident that happened to his ship just after D Day when they were close inshore chasing some 'R' boats that had tried to lay mines in the swept channel. In that action shore batteries hit the ship and they had casualties - including dead - on the bridge, which as a signaller was his action station. When he recounted the experience it was the first time he'd ever spoken of it and as he told me what happened he burst into tears. 61 years after the event. Keeping something down for that long isn't good for you, but no-one gave a damn in the bad old days.
There was a chap we called "Tarzan" in our town when I was a kid. He lived rough, did odd jobs and was regarded as being as mad as a hatter. He was a First World War veteran who had cracked up in the trenches.
Then there's a young friend of ours who was one of the Paras blown up by the IRA - in the second truck that came to the aid of the first. Invalided out after his physical injuries healed, he used to scream in his sleep and often wet the bed. He's no better now than he was a year after it happened.