_The jets got all the young ones in Smoky Creek. Only the old folks were left--with their memories. And the jets--friendly or hostile--would never get them...._ A jet bomber and four fighters had appeared low over Bald Ridge, out of the east. They'd curved up as one to clear Lawson's Hill, their stubby wings almost brushing the treetops, their hiss and thunder rolling back and forth between the valley walls like a giant's derision; they'd dipped into the valley proper, obviously informed that Smoky Creek, Tennessee (population 123) had no anti-aircraft installations, and circled the town at about five hundred feet. They circled and looked down--broad slavic faces with curious expressions, s…
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