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night patrol

Suddenly they were ripped out of my arms, my wife, the baby, and it was hot morning wind beating my face, hot wind in eyes and ears, and I was flying, there were fields below, brown and sunny green fields, and immediately I knew, I knew where I was.  I couldn't believe it.  Alfalfa hillsides, barns, out-buildings, a windbreak of poplars; acres ploughed under, rich and loamy, strewn with cornstalk.  I couldn't believe it looked just like Iowa. …

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STORIESJohn FoleyComment