The enemy is above, in the sky. We are not soldiers but school children. A voice from everywhere begins to warn us, "Things are dropping." Seed begin to fall. Then I hear the faint echo of the tubes popping. There is an underground bunker; most of us run for the school bus. The mortars are dropping close by, within twenty yards. The fear of realizing death is pacing through my mind. We are all crowded in, scared of a hit. I shield my face with two paperback books. All at once there is a sharp explosion. I am hit, though I scream for only a moment. It is such a helpless feeling. The concussion has shattered the teeth in my mouth and I am going into shock. The dream ends here.