In autumn, when the trees are bare and the land can be read as easily as a book, the headstones curve and dip along the subtle contours of the hillside, the markers as precisely aligned with their neighbors as soldiers standing in formation. But unlike stones in practically every other cemetery in Vermont, none of these leans or lists, no matter winter’s violence. At the Vermont Veterans Memorial Cemetery in Randolph, Bob Durkee’s job is to see that they don’t.
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