He rose quietly from his bunk, careful not to disturb others in the predawn darkness. He stirred the embers of the fire, bringing it back to life. When the coffee was ready, he took the entire pot and slipped out the door. Sitting on a nearby bench—one he had fashioned himself from a downed tree—he sipped coffee and listened to the awakening day. He pulled the tiny notebook and knife-sharpened pencil from his shirt pocket and began to record by the light of the stars and moon.