Mapping the Brass Dial

I marched straight off the baseplate toward a massive metallic object resting beside a notebook. It was a brass desk compass! I clamped both hands around the knurled rim and threw my weight into a twist. The glass face caught the morning light as the needle wobbled, spun wildly, and locked onto north. Talk about an authentic field navigation console! I pressed my boots firmly against the heavy metal casing to inspect the etched degrees. With this kind of instrument on the desk, any direction is officially charted territory.