I took my son to visit my husband, the commander, but the guard blocked us at the gate and said, “His girlfriend is inside the unit. No visitors!” I covered my son’s ears, called my second brother, and

knees.

Earlier, Olivia had smiled.

She was no longer smiling.

The guard stationed at the gate seemed uneasy the instant he examined her military dependent identification card. The name on his uniform read HARRIS. He looked young, perhaps twenty-four, carrying the strained expression of someone who had been instructed exactly what to say.

“Ma’am,” he said continue reading …