“The morning storm tide dragged four feet of sand away by the old naval target boundary.”

I got to the beach access road twenty minutes later.

A cold morning mist drifted over the dunes, carrying sharp salt spray and diesel fumes from a tugboat offshore.

Kenneth was standing by a stretch of orange plastic marker tape, tapping the side of his steel-toe combat boot with a heavy ten-inch iron wrench.

Two base security trucks were parked on the sand ridge behind him, their hazard lights flashing red against the sea mist.

Sand crunched under my heavy leather combat boots as I walked up next to him.