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really deflect him. And I’m sure he’s already developed a theory to explain it away.’
‘I’ll watch my back,’! said.
‘Some Delta sergeants came to see me too. There are
rumours starting. I think you should watch your back very carefully.’
‘I plan to,’ I said.
‘Very carefully,’ the doctor said.
Summer and I got back in the Humvee. She fired it up and put it
in gear and sat with her foot on the brake.
‘Quartermaster,’ I said.
‘It wasn’t military issue,’ she said.
‘It looked expensive,’ I said. ‘Expensive enough for the
Pentagon, maybe.’
‘It would have been green.’
I nodded. ‘Probably. But we should still check. Sooner or
later we’re going to need all our ducks in a row.’
She took her foot off the brake and headed for the quartermaster
building. She had been at Bird much longer than me
and she knew where everything was. She parked again in front
of the usual type of warehouse. I knew there would be a long
counter inside with massive off-limits storage areas behind it.
There would be huge bales of clothing, tyres, blankets, mess
kits, entrenching tools, equipment of every kind.
We went in and found a young guy in new BDUs behind the
counter. He was a cheerful corn-fed country boy. He looked like
he was working in his dad’s hardware store, and he looked
like it was his life’s ambition. He was enthusiastic. I told him we
were interested in construction equipment. He opened a manual
the size of eight phone books. Found the correct section. I
asked him to find listings for crowbars. He licked his forefinger
and turned pages and found two entries. Prybar, general issue,
long, claw on one end and then crowbar; general issue, short,
claw on both ends. I asked him to show us an example of the
latter.
He went away and disappeared among the tall stacks. We
waited. Breathed in the unique quartermaster smell of old dust
and new rubber and damp cotton twill. He came back after five
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.!
long minutes with a GI crowbar. Laid it down on the counter in
front of us. It landed with a heavy thump. Summer had been
right. It was painted olive green. And it was a completely
different item from the one we had just left in the pathologist’s
office. Different section, six inches shorter, slightly thinner,
slightly different curves. It looked carefully designed. It was
probably a perfect example of the way the army does things.
Years ago it had probably been the ninety-ninth item on someone’s
re-equipment agenda. A subcommittee would have been
formed, with expert input from survivors of the old construction
battalions. A specification would have been drawn up
concerning length and weight and durability. Metal fatigue
would have been investigated. Arenas of likely use would have
been considered. Brittleness in the frozen winters of northern
Europe would have been evaluated. Malleability in the severe
heat of the equator would have been taken into account.
Detailed drawings would have been made. Then tenders would
have gone out. Mills all over Pennsylvania and Alabama
would have priced the job. Prototypes would have been forged.
They would have been tested, exhaustively. One and only one
winner would have been approved. Paint would have been
supplied, and the thickness and uniformity of its application
would have been specified and carefully monitored. Then the
whole business would have been completely forgotten. But
the product of all those long months of deliberation was still
coming through, thousands of units a year, needed or not.
‘Thanks, soldier,’ I said.
‘You need to take it?’ the kid asked.
‘Just needed to see it,’ I said.
We went back to my office. It was mid-morning, a dull day, and
I felt aimless. So far, the new decade wasn’t doing much for
me. I wasn’t a huge fan of the 1990s yet, at that point, six days
in.
‘Are you going to write the accident report?’ Summer asked.
‘For Willard? Not yet.’
‘He’ll expect it today.’
I nodded. ‘I know. But I’m going to make him ask, one more
time.’
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‘Why?’
‘I guess because it’s a fascinating experience. Like watching
maggots writhing around in something that died.’