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The cadet corps reeked of carbolic acid, sweat, and the raw earth of the parade ground. Life here was governed not by the cycle of day and night, but by the rhythm of the drum. A beat — reveille. A beat — formation. A beat — lights out. This rhythm seeped beneath the skin, into the blood, becoming the beating of the heart. Individual names were erased, supplanted by numbers and surnames. They were no longer boys. They were a platoon, a company, a regiment →