My brother Ron joined the US army a few years ago. Most girls, especially those who are my age, are thrilled by anything that has to do with the "army". It's a novelty to them to shoot a gun, jump out of a plane, and wear uniform. Now I know you're thinking that I must find it really cool to know a solider, who's my brother. That's wrong, before I found out that my brother joined the army, I was crazy about the army. Firstly, I wanted to go to college, knew that joining the army was probably the only way I could get it as my parents couldn't afford it. Additionally there were all the other points of the army that grabbed my heart. I wanted the challenge, I wanted the discipline and I wanted the feeling that I would be doing something beyond the ability of average citizen. But as soon as my brother joined the army, all those things fell away. All I saw were dead people, guns shooting, tanks turning into a ball of fire, tents burning, and lots of blood. It was so horrible. When Ron went to Iraq, I freaked out whenever I didn't hear from him for more than a week. I kept up with the news, reading the latest newspaper and listening to the hourly reports. And every time I heard that an American solider was killed, I prayed, it' wasn't Ron. I'm proud of my brother for serving our country, and his willingness to devote his life to something he finds important. It's great to see how discipline and mature he's got, and I'm glad he has his college paid for. But although I am proud, I gladly give up the "coolness" of having a brother in the army. I would be perfectly all right if I had never seen that uniform on him, and he was just a plain old "boring" brother. I love my brother, and I'm proud of him, but I want him back home! After Ron joined the army, the writer  _  .
decide to join the army one day became afraid of seeing soldiers often showed off Ron in front of friends became aware of the danger of joining the army