I was laying on my stomach on top of the levee In the darkness, watching ,waiting, Because we knew they were coming.
Phil Schultz and I had volunteered to go on a more or less recon mission . I had the only bike ,and It was my families farm. Actually it was what we called it the River farm, as It laid between the levee and the Mississippi river. All in all it consisted of around 600 acres of the best soil Iowa could send down the river. Every spring and sometimes in the late fall the river would come up and deposit some more silt or top soil on our land. Sometimes in the spring we got the crops in late sometimes not at all, but when It worked out to our advantage weather and river wise we had killer corn and soybean yields.
But we weren’t down there working the farm this night. We were a part of the junior youth group at Calvary Baptist Church in Quincy, and the rumor was the senior youth group led by a notorious prankster, who was rumored to have been a professional wrestler called the masked marvel, Was going to bring his band of cut throats( the senior youth group)Down to terrorize us and we were bound and determined to be ready. His real name was Buster Mcfeters and he was the leader of the senior youth group.
Phil and I had made our way from the cabin to the only way in or out. A dirt road lined on each side by huge fields of towering corn. It was just turning dark and the late October wind made the seven to eight foot tall corn sway and crackle. I thought we would see headlights as the river bottoms stretched totally flat for twelve miles until it reached the towering bluffs. Well we waited for about a half an hour, and no headlights coming down that single flat gravel road--they must not be coming. Time to head back to the cabin where everyone else was and maybe have a couple hot dogs or something this recon work can make a guy hungry.
I hopped on my bike and Phil got on the back and we headed back down the dirt road toward the cabin. The road went straight from the levee for about an eighth of a mile and then it turned a ninety degree angle and went on up to the cabin .We had just made the turn and were only fifty yards from the cabin when all of a sudden someone ran out from the cornfield right next to me screaming.
I jumped over the handlebars of that bike and hit the road running. I left poor ole Phil right there on that bike and he was too scared to pedal. I sprinted the fifty yards to the cabin ,yanked the screen door open just as a water balloon burst through the screen, and a cherry bomb exploded behind me. I jumped inside the cabin just as a cherry bomb exploded inside the wood stove. They had gotten on the roof and dropped it down the chimney.
The preachers son Dave Bower had his bb gun as did a couple others so they grabbed them and out the door we went running for the cover of a small woods just about fifty yards from the cabin. As we headed for the cover we were chased by countless bottle rockets, cherry bombs going off and terrifying war hoops.
There were five of us all laying still in the tall grass at the edge of the woods, waiting for the attack to be over. Finally our leader along with the group of boys that were still up by the cabin made a formal surrender, and it was over.
We sat out there for about another hour until we thought they all had left, then started around the edge of the woods. As we went past a shadow a form stood up and waved his arms., David Bower opened up with his bb gun and the others did too. The figure was making groaning noises, and they kept shooting it with bb’s just shooting and cocking shooting and cocking, finally the figure stumbled back into the woods and we all took off running back to the cabin.
Back at the cabin ,all the angels of terror were gone and we talked and laughed about the whole night.
We found out later that none of the guys that came down with the senior youth group were anywhere near the woods nor had anyone been shot at with bb guns.