Then I'd fly away to the East and look down at all the armies, ours in buff and blue, and the British redcoats.

I'd look into the face of our great commander-in-chief.

Then I'd fly away back into the West and South, and I'd hover over Wareville.

I'd see our own people, every last little one of them.

They might take a shot at me, not knowing who I was, but I'd be so high up in the air no bullet could reach me.