I got up and squared my shoulders.

“I’ll get you that paperwork, sir.”

“David, I’m sorry about what’s going on at Elm Street.

But I have to go by the regulations.”

I walked out of the tent into the glaring sunlight.

Behind the mess hall, the diesel generators droned in a steady rhythm.

I had to collect proof that my life was being wrecked before the Army would let me go home and fix it.

At eleven I logged in to a secure terminal in the comms office.