Some years ago, I stepped off an ugly yellow school bus onto a covered patio at Ft. Jackson, carrying two large duffel bags and wearing my first military uniform. There were scores of Drill Sergeants invading the recruits’ personal spaces, yelling directly in their faces, and “God Bless the USA,” by Lee Greenwood was blaring from a recording somewhere. I immediately teared up, just like I tear up every time I hear the national anthem played at a sporting event or concert. I’m a sucker.