“I pulled the internal files on your brother’s civilian supply company from last winter.”

He opened the thick paper cover and pointed his pen at a row of official signature blocks.

“These six delivery orders for military diesel fuel were approved with your personal officer’s rank stamp,” Captain Thomas said.

I looked over the black ink stamp, dated November twelve of the year before.

“On November twelve I was commanding a logistics convoy outside Baghdad,” I said.

“I pulled your overseas flight manifests from central command to confirm where you were,” Thomas said.