Whisky from the world's oldest distillery flowed like nectar, and war stories flowed like whisky. I hadn't eaten anything since brunch at GAEA, and hadn't drank anything stronger than Vintage Port for years. The spirits, and the spirit of brave old warriors recalling their glory really swept me up.

". . . pinned down by German machine gun nests," Hoagy explained. "Pitch dark in the forest all around, black as tar. Bullets sprayin' all around, hissin' like snakes. Shoulda' seen those tracers, every third round a tracer, makin' ya think about all them bullets in between. Was kind of a rocky meadow. But none o' the rocks were big enough for a good hide, mostly just a pain in the ass for tryin' to dig in. Bullets hittin' around in rocks'd go beeyoooo just like you see in those westerns. And tracers'd go flyin' high, makin' it look like the meadow was runnin' up against a giant grindstone and shootin' out sparks. I'll never forget all the different sounds the bullets made, like the ones hissin' by and into the trees, or . . . " Hoagy sipped up enough whisky to lubricate his mouth. He sighed, looking as though he'd forgotten what he wanted to say, or maybe he was struggling with saying what he wanted.

The sound of bullets thudding into bodies suddenly filled my mind. I said, "Same thing at Big Hole. I remember thinking about the sound of the bullets themselves. Bullets hitting trees, and piercing tents. Bullets going through hides and blankets, and bodies. It was right before dawn when the first volleys came in. Pretty soon cavalry was riding through camp shooting running women in the head point blank with revolvers, even shooting their babies." A bizarre feeling settled over me--a feeling I'd been listening to someone else talk! Listening to Joseph. I'd even thought yeah, I read about that, and that's what snapped me out of it, along with the look on the faces of Buzz and Hoagy. Spitz simply gazed into his Bushmills. Whizzer was the only one with any idea what to say:

"Lude's been watching too many westerns, like Hoagy was talkin' about. And I worked him too hard today on no rations, then the whisky." He asked Buzz,"You boys got any handy grub?"

"Beans and ham hocks,"Spitz gushed. "And cornbread."

A stroke of sheer kindness, Whizzer's finesse in taking me off the hook. I'd phased into Joseph, same thing that happened the night Whizzer showed up at GAEA. But unlike my affair with the lake, other people had been looking right at me. "That sounds great," I said before tossing back the last slug in my glass to show them I wasn't too much of a wimp.

"Sure does," said Whizzer.

We all stood up. Buzz's hip bothered him less with whisky in his belly. Whizzer led us to the kitchen, where I sat next to him. Buzz and Hoagy and Spitz were lined up on stools across the island from us, Hoagy in the middle. The microwave had our juicy bowls of Great Northern beans and ham chunks steaming, and our cornbread drinking butter. Hoagy picked his story back up:

"I remember risin' a little, and scrambling for better cover. Felt like a mule kicked me right in the back." He got up, unbuttoning his shirt as he came around to our side of the island. Buzz shook his head as if trying to shake the funny look from his face. Hoagy faced away from the island, his back directly between Whizzer and me. He held his shirt up out of the way, and cocked his arm back so he could finger what looked like the eraser end of a pencil stretching the skin just above the middle of his spine. "Check it out," he said, and I went first. Then Whizzer fingered the protrusion like he'd never seen it before. "Thirty caliber German machine gun, steel bullet embedded in the vertebra. They had to just leave it there."

Buzz said, "That ain't the best thing to be showin' these boys while they're eatin'."

Hoagy chuckled mischievously, looking like he thought it was the best thing.

Whizzer asked past a mouthful of food, "How long were you in that hospital in Paris?"

"Call it a year." Hoagy buttoned his shirt up on his way to fetching the Bushmills. "Could look right out at the Eiffel tower. And them French nurses, whooowee." He freshened up the veteran glasses, and left the jug as a centerpiece. "Worst part o' the whole thing was in the foxhole they dragged me into. I came back around to some guy blubberin' all night about his wife. Lost his nerve. . . . "

Buzz was who'd kicked off the war reminiscence. They'd all hit Normandy's Omaha Beach on June 7, 1944. Hoagy didn't make it far past the beach. Buzz and Spitz went through France, Battle of the Bulge, across the Rhine, unscathed. Buzz and Hoagy had done all the talking. Seemed like Spitz's turn, but he just gazed into his glass. I was about to ask to see their medals when Whizzer asked Spitz, "Man, is somethin' bothering you?"

Spitz looked up at us, eyes sagging in a droopy face. "Flags."

Buzz said, "He's pissed about people drivin' around with flags on their cars."

Spitz nodded. "It's against the law."

"I seen a flag the size o' my shirt layin' over in Division street," said Hoagy. "Came off somebody's car. People just ran over it. And they just about ran over me when I saved it."

"Man named Garray," said Spitz. "When the Corry sank, he risked his life savin' the flag."

Buzz said, "Shit, people aren't just drivin' around with flags all over their cars, they got 'em up for curtains, hangin' on fences. Flags for clothes. They think they're bein' patriots, but they got no clue what a patriot really is.You just wait'll another big war sends draftin' deep. How many patriots this country's got in its guts is really gonna show."

"Not patriotism," said Spitz, rising above his funk. "Just cowards."

Hoagy said,"Cowards with the bravery of bein' outa range."

"Biggest coward of all," said Buzz, "is that Bush punk pretendin' to be President. At least his dad had the guts to go and get his dumb ass shot down. Put his life on the line.The only line the punk ever put his life on was cocaine."

These guys were smart in ways I hadn't imagined--a reflection on me, not them.

"He cried on TV," said Spitz.

Buzz: "Yeah, almost blubbered. And you know what he said? He said ‘I'm a caring man. I care'." Buzz's mimicked snivel was amazingly Bush--reminded me of Bush mocking Carla Faye Tucker's ‘Please, don't kill me' soon before he signed her death order, as Governor of Texas. "Hell, only thing he cares about is big oily wads o' money. Crying on TV." He shook his head. "Back when we had real presidents, don't matter what woulda happened, they never woulda cried for the whole world to see."

Hoagy said, "Could you imagine FDR crying after Pearl Harbor? When he was talkin' about the day of infamy stuff, you felt braver just listenin' to him.Made you want to go kick their scrawny asses all the way up between their slanty little eyes. This Bush punk makes me want to go kick his ass, and not just for crying in front of everybody and embarrassing the whole country. Him and his goddam handlers, they stole the election. We elected a good man, and now look."

Spitz: "How do you be president when nobody voted for you? Ever talked to anybody who actually voted for him?"

"Lotsa people voted for him," said Buzz. "This country's forgettin' how to think. All these people with flags on their cars and fences and stuff voted for him. And all the ones wipin' their blubbery asses with stars-'n-stripes toilet paper."

Spitz got an odd look, like the toilet paper thing was a revelation that took a moment to sink in. "The flag's supposed to mean honor. The law says it should only be displayed between sunrise and sunset, either on buildings, or on flagstaffs out in the open. And not when the weather's shitty."

Whizzer glanced at me, gloat his eyes implying: now how's that for a subtle sense of humor? Blubbery asses and shitty weather!

Hoagy said, "I doubt if we'll ever have a real president again. Now that they've pulled this one off, they probably figure we'll swallow anything."

"I'm not swallowin' it," said Whizzer. "I just haven't figured out yet where to spit it." He took his last bite of ham.

"Same here," said Buzz. "The punk's no president of mine."

"Or mine," said Hoagy.

Spitz and I looked at each other as if deciding who should go next. I had my mouth full.

"Yeah," is what Spitz said before taking the first gulp I'd seen any of them take. He and Buzz and Hoagy were sippers. They didn't get drunk, simply turned up their glow.

Silence set in, but before it could get thick and sticky Whizzer asked me, "Who'd you vote for, Lude?" The implication I'd voted for Bush was thick and sticky. So I worked it like one might do with taffy:

"I voted for the President."

And I pulled it until Whizzer swallowed his last bite, lay his spoon in his bowl, turned to look at me, opened his mouth--

"Al Gore," I said so Buzz and Hoagy and Spitz could breathe again. They were so polite they might've imploded if, after what they'd said about Bush, I'd said I voted for him. I was special company. Being the best hosts they could be was crucial. Buzz and Hoagy both took the gulp they'd probably contemplated since seeing Spitz take his.

Whizzer said, "President in exile."

Spitz reminded me of a sinister Peter Lorre, saying, "Somethin' needs to be done."

I loved the distance these guys were putting between me and my fear of Joseph taking over.

"It will."Whizzer yawned luxuriously, making me stifle a craving to do the same. "Meanwhile, I'd better tuck Lude to bed. He won't be worth shit tomorrow without his beauty rest."

Buzz said, "That's exactly what kind of mattress I got, brand new Beauty Rest just, um . . . two months old. Kinda losin' track o' time lately." Looking me in the eyes: "It's yours, and fresh sheets for you. I'm sleepin' on one o' the guest beds.They're real nice." I sensed that somehow a breach of hospitality had been perceived. Buzz was taking command to set things right. He said to Whizzer, "Hoagy got a new bed just like mine, and he usually sleeps in one o' the big recliners anyway 'cause the bullet hurts him if he lies flat."

Whizzer took this like a fresh pitch. "You boys sure know how to roll out the red carpet."

That's one thing we saved from Whizzer's room, the red carpet.

Spitz said, "You boys're men of honor."