'Your little military phase,' Dad chuckled as we entered the museum, while my brother snorted, 'Yeah, our family is all pretend heroes,' but their jokes died when we turned the corner and Dad stopped—staring at the wall of heroes. My picture was still there, in uniform. 'Is that...?' Dad whispered, his eyes shining like headlights. They always called it my "military hobby"—like coin collecting, or a class I'd eventually drop when life got busy. I was a reliable one: designated driver for my brot