Name That Tune

As we came up over the hill, they started shooting at us from the woods. We hit the dirt and you could hear the bullets making a sound like buzzing insects as they whizzed by overhead. To my right, Henry made a moaning sound as if he’d been hit, but, no, he was just singing to himself. “What’s that song?” I asked him. But he didn’t answer. He probably couldn’t hear me. The next thing I knew, we were on our feet running across the field toward the woods again, and I never did find out what that song was.

Photo credit: Kate Farnady