I signed the gear sheet and slid it into the red hardbound binder.

One flashlight short, and a lieutenant up at garrison counting my shifts on a clipboard.

I called the quartermaster from the desk phone and got a busy signal three times.

At nine thirty I walked over there myself.

The counter smelled like toner and wet cardboard.

Salas had the replacement logbooks stacked and counted before I had my gloves off.

“Twenty-four,” he said.