''They might just be rapping everybody up now, injectin 'em and tagging them up with numbers and identifications.'', the quiet man had said, contenuing his smoking. At the late noon of that day, at five, as my fathers watch showed, sounds awoke down the road heading townwards. More trucks were on their way here, in our complex of huge, white canopies. They came after the tent across the road, in the view of our front seal. ''Commander, two Red and two Green, one more Blue left, sir.'', described a trooper. Sounds of struggle came from the tent across us, and they had taken and made insensible five people that they had collected in the waiting. Two were shopkeepers, days old in their battered clothes, one an old doctor, and two were town farmers. They had begged them and called out in wild pleas, before they were taken and seized. One of the stoutly masked men had turned to approach our place of the tent. ''Oh hell, their comin' for us now!'', said a man who spotted them coming for our turn. I scurried back to my father and mother, fearing that they were coming for our take, and perhaps to slay us away. The group quickly settled to a formal seat at the benches, silent in the coming of the terrible guards. ''Be quiet, the police are coming.'', whispered my uneasy mother. Keys rattled at the door of the gating fence that surrounded the tent, and then the iron door, swiftly creaked open to the full sight of the militants.
They entered our place and examined us of our identifications, when I was a Green patched captive, of a number of 1537, as written on my tryangular patch. Then I saw come in lastly, the Commander, in total charge of the complexes of Green and Yellow patched tents of prisoners. ''Excuse me for the inconvineance, gentlemen, but we need a simple business with a few of you.'', he said, broad shouldered and caped in black uniform. His face was visible, along the commandant ranks of badges and things about his chest. A black leathered cap, perfectly softened, he wore tall and proud. In a military stature, he ordered the two men infront of us to go with them into the trucks awaiting. The soldiers quickly arrested those two men, crying when the Commander had called them to go. My mother struck tears when she was quickly assured of our security from the take of the military. ''We are America! Go to hell, you criminals!'', pronounced the man who had spoken to us, as I found. Only seven people remained by sundown, when the soldiers had left us be.
By night, we were tireless in our concern of what the authorities would be planning. But we had rested ourselves in the timid breezing sounds of the wind. A lantern hung at the high top beam of the shivering tent. Out into the fields, where segments of uniformed road and complexioned huts, the little white housings waved in the wind of the night, and were internaly lit by vivid gleams of lantern light. The sky above was without a luminosity of the earth, but that of the heavens and the constellations of space.