Nothing Civil About This War

High noon. High drama. High summer. The temperature is climbing into the upper 30s, the humidity sticky hot, the air tinged with smoke from a thousand fires as a deafening hush creeps across the drowsy countryside like a dirty, sweaty blanket. Suddenly, all is chaos, all is cacophony. First comes the dull, deafening crump of cannons. Next the snap, snap, snap of musket fire, echoing through near-by woods. Then a blood-curdling wail, a banshee, fighting man's yell.