"A Conversation Overheard at the Urinal Wall between Two Young Men with Short Haircuts at Hartfield International Airport, Atlanta: "Hey man, what gate are you leaving from?" "B17." "Yeah? I'm leaving from B19. Hey, do ya wanna grab something to eat?" "Nah, my flight leaves in, like, 20 minutes." "Well, I hope we see each other again." "Same here," Shake. Tuck. Zip. Shake of the other head, "Actually, no. No, I don't want to see you again, because you know where that would be-" Together they shouted, "Iraq!" Silently I thought, "Heaven." So many young men in uniform today. As our plane pulled away from the terminal in Norfolk in the glow of the sunrise, the muzak piped into the cabin was "Anchors Aweigh," a song known by heart to every sailor who sang it as
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