I signed the declination form on the bottom line, refusing to be vindictive.

I gave the clipboard back to him.

The transport vehicle shifted into gear and rolled away from the curb.

Fourteen hundred hours.

I drove my aging sedan to my new commanding officer’s quarters.

Huge oak trees lined the street, throwing deep shade across the pavement.

The big brick houses stood well back from the road behind neatly trimmed lawns.

I parked in the broad driveway of number four.