I was startled. “Sir?”

“Now you’re going to tell me all the same stories I’ve heard before. Haunts and ghosties wafting out of the trees at night. Loneliness that cuts to the bone. Strange chill winds when you walk through the cemetery, even on a sunny day. Odd scratching sounds at night, and an utter discouragement with your life that you cannot shake. Thoughts of suicide. I’m right, aren’t I?”

Although all of those things sounded somewhat familiar, I shook my head. “No, sir. I’m here to discuss gravedigging, coffins, and what I am allowed to do about renewing the markers on the old graves. Some are scarcely legible anymore. Were any written records kept of who was buried where?”

His eyes widened at me. “Well, what would be the sense in that?”

“For their relatives, sir. So they might know where their sons are buried. In case they came to Gettys to visit the grave.”

He shrugged that off. “The ones that really care about such things pay to have them carted home. The others…well. If you’ve the time and it gives you comfort, repair the markers as best you can. Dismissed.”

“Sir, that isn’t the only reason I came.”

He compressed his lips and knotted his fists. Then he swung his feet off his hassock and sat up straight to face me. “Do your duty, soldier! If graves are being desecrated, then it’s your own fault for not guarding them well enough! If a body is taken, it’s up to you to track it down, untangle it from the tree, bring it back, and rebury it. Quietly. And I for one do not care how many times you have to do it! So do it and don’t complain.”

I was shocked, stunned to silence. I finally had a complete description of what my job was to entail. “No bodies have been stolen, sir,” I managed to say. “But I would like to talk to you about coffins, sir. I think a ready supply of sturdy coffins might be good planning. To prevent the very sort of desecration you’ve spoken about.”

He seemed very relieved that I was neither trying to quit nor reporting stolen bodies. “What do you want, man?”

“I’ve looked at the cemetery and how it has been filled. It’s obvious to me that at regular intervals, such as every summer, we are overwhelmed with Speck plague victims. Bodies are buried in one communal trench, without coffins. I’d like to remedy that, sir. I’ve begun by digging surplus graves. Now I’d like to suggest that we warehouse coffins. If we built them now and set them by, any man who died would at least be assured of the dignity of a proper burial.”

“Oh, and that would be a real morale booster, wouldn’t it, trooper? I could address the whole regiment, ‘Well, fellows, seeing as how the foul weather and utter lack of anything of cultural significance in this godforsaken posting has left you idle, I propose that you each build at least one coffin each, so that when summer arrives with the heat, dust, and plague to end your miserable existence here, you’ll be assured of a nice burial.’”

I was aghast. “I didn’t mean it like that, sir. Only that, well, prudence dictates that recognizing that a problem exists and taking measures against it is…” I faltered to a halt. That bit of wisdom had come from an engineering instructor at the academy.

“Quite so. But a warehouse full of coffins might not create the best impression on visiting dignitaries the next time…if there is a next time…” Now his voice dwindled away. I read in his silence thwarted ambition and dreams gone awry. “This is a dreadful post,” he said quietly. “I was an ambitious man when I arrived here. Now look at me. I can’t get out of my own path. Something about this place sucks the heart out of a man, trooper. The rate of desertion, suicide, and plain dereliction of duty defies all common sense.” He stopped, and suddenly seemed to realize that he was talking to someone so far his subordinate that we could have nothing in common. He sighed.

“Very well. You are correct. We would be prudent to take measures against the inevitable. But I shall not order the building of coffins. I shall authorize the men to acquire a supply of wood, saw it into lumber, and keep a supply of the needed dimensions to build coffins. Acquiring the wood will be a difficult enough task. Are you satisfied? I’ll issue the orders that will ready planks for our yearly devastation.”

“I’m sorry that it was necessary for me to ask, sir,” I said quietly. “And I thank you for granting my request.” I longed to know more about the other things he had mentioned, but there was no acceptable way for me to ask those questions.

I turned to go.