I’m a Silver Star Combat Vet. My Superior Officers Made Me Mop Their Floors, Bullied Me, and Accused Me of Being a Spy. They Laughed. Then the General Walked in and Finally Looked at My Chest. The buffer hummed, its sound a low drone against the polished hardwood of Officer’s Barracks, Complex C. It was all red brick and perfectly manicured lawns on the outside, a postcard of military order. I moved with the machine, my own internal rhythm matching its. The service entrance was my new door. My i