Chapter 4 - The Ghost Roster
The amber light of the computer terminal flickered across Colonel Vance’s face as she stared at the glowing spreadsheet of names, serial numbers, and unit assignments. Ghost soldiers—men and women officially listed on active duty rosters, drawing full pay and allowances, yet completely nonexistent in the physical barracks or training grounds. It was an old scam, usually run by corrupt finance officers working in tandem with ruthless logistics NCOs, but the scale of this operation reached deep into the tactical deployment units preparing to ship overseas next month.
"Seventy-four phantom personnel assigned to Tyler’s battalion alone," Vance murmured, her fingers dancing across the mechanical keyboard. "That’s nearly two million dollars a quarter vanishing into private accounts."
Major General Davies stood by the window, watching the rain begin to streak the heavy glass. "And it goes higher than Tyler. A sergeant doesn't have the administrative clearance to override the personnel database without a signature from the battalion adjutant."
"Major Vance," a voice interrupted from the doorway.
They both turned. Private First Class Miller stood timidly in the threshold, holding a thick stack of printed requisition forms. His eyes darted nervously between Davies and Vance, his fingers clutching the paper so tightly the edges were beginning to curl.
"At ease, private," Vance said, gesturing for him to enter. "What do you have?"
Miller stepped inside, carefully closing the heavy oak door behind him. "Ma'am... after what happened in the cafeteria, Captain Henderson called me into the admin office. He told me to shred these inventory logs immediately. He said if anyone asked, the shipment of thermal gear never arrived from the depot."
Vance exchanged a quick, knowing glance with Davies. She extended her hand, palm up. "Hand them over, Miller."
Miller hesitated, looking down at the papers as if they were venomous snakes. "Ma'am, Captain Henderson is my direct commander. If he finds out I brought these to you instead of the shredder, I'll be court-martialed for insubordination before the sun goes down. They'll ruin my career, put a dishonorable discharge on my record, and send me packing."
"Your career is already on the line, son," Davies said gently, stepping forward. "Every soldier on that forged roster is stealing a slot from someone who actually wants to serve. More importantly, those ghost billets are being used to stockpile weapons that are currently leaking out the back gate."
May you like
Miller swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing violently. With shaking hands, he laid the stack of documents across Vance’s desk. As the top page slid into the light, both Vance and Davies saw something that made their blood run cold: stamped directly across the logistics manifest was the official authorization seal of Colonel Richard Thorne, the base commander himself.
---
