The path to the farmhouse was unimpressive, just a gap in the cornfield that disappeared into the stalks. The only thing beyond the usual was the banged up mail box with the Stars and Stripes painted on it, the lid dangling by just one rivet after fending off the relentless attack of nocturnal beer bottles. Those heat seekers of the night were forever launched by the anonymous backhanded gunners who rolled the roads between Black Creek and Lucama...