“Show me your War Faaaaaace!!!!” screamed a drill sergeant high in the guard tower overlooking our company of army trainees. They called us “privates”, as this was the rank most of us wore. Entry Level, but likely just to be demoralizing referring to us as an alias to genitalia. Better than seamen I guess.

The drill sergeant’s voice was amplified by a bull horn and even the distortion couldn’t hide the smile from his tone. On the ride over, I overheard a hand ful...