Honor Guard

Rigid sentinels pierce Dover Air Force Base's chill night, Honor Guard plants itself before the yawning cargo aircraft swollen with nine flag-draped coffins—grim harvest from a botched raid. They hoist the first burden, pause it accusatorily before Bartlet and Mickey, then churn out second, third, relentless procession, each step grinding exhaustion deeper into the President's mask. Military drill fuses with raw ritual, their unblinking solemnity flaying leadership's facade to expose the human wreckage beneath command's cold calculus.