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My father shouted: At Least The Army Pays Her Rent

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almost apologetic.

“I made a joke,” he said.

“You made a habit,” I replied.

That silenced him.

I did not raise my voice. That was important. In every operating room I ever commanded, panic was contagious. So was control. My father had taught me how to value power, but the army had taught me discipline. Tonight, discipline was the only reason I did not continue reading …

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