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The Corporal Swept His Rosters Onto the Floor — Then the First Sergeant Recognized the New Clerk's Name

His palm crossed the stack at 1530 and the weekend rosters were already in the air.

Private Ellis Ward is three weeks into a supply barracks and the loudest man on the floor just taught the whole room what a clerk is worth. Aria Vance is the one who got hit first — her binder was under the corporal's boot before Ellis even opened his mouth. Ellis stepped in with one flat sentence, and now it is his name on the duty board in red.

Corporal Deacon Roe runs the roster. Whatever he writes, the weekend writes itself: the worst slots, the shift nobody signs up for, and the duty NCO who never notices.

Ellis crouches. The pages are fanned across the linoleum, one of them slid under the shred bin, and a small soldier in wire glasses is already on her knees beside him. Roe stands over both of them with his collar popped, telling the room that a clerk is a piece of paper with legs. Specialist Tibbs laughs one beat before everyone else decides whether to.

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