When Maureen Gard goes running, the flashbacks come: riding in her Marine platoon leader’s car, the jokes about her bra size, the fondling, and the pinning her down. She was 18 at the time and considered her platoon leader a friend when she went for a ride with him to a mall near their base in Virginia. They were classmates training to be Marine musicians. He drove fast, her cell phone fell between her legs, he reached down to get it, she said.