“Command sent down the maintenance log for Sandbridge.

Those old World War II practice shells washed up by the north dunes again.”

I grabbed a spray bottle of disinfectant and wiped off the steel door of Tank’s kennel.

“How many targets?”

“Base operations flagged two rusted casings,” Kenneth said.

“The demolition crew wants us out there Wednesday afternoon to check the fuses.”

The black rugged tablet sitting on my metal tool locker let out two sharp, high-pitched chimes.

I wiped my palms on a shop rag and went over to the screen.