I stare out the window of the bus as it turns the corner into Fort Benning, Georgia. We roll past a large plywood sign with hand-painted letters, Home of the Screaming Eagles, 101st Airborne Brigade. I crane my neck to get a good look at three metal structures two-hundred-fifty feet high, standing cold and rigid on the flat barren field. I wipe at the condensation from┬áthe window for a better look, but only smear the water around on the glass, blurring my view entirely. The bus pulls to…

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