The sharp snapping sound and the sensation of air movement close to my right ear could only be the supersonic sound of projectiles going by. My reaction to dive over the bushes that separated the flat clearing from the down slope of the hill in front of me was at almost the same instant the delayed sound of gunshots reached my ears.
I landed on my chest and hands in a base runner's desperation dive for home plate and grabbed a thick bush with both hands to stop my upper body while my legs slid in a short circle in the direction of the down slope. The thought went through my head that it was nothing short of miraculous that the bushes held. The leaves of the bushes above my head exploded into pieces just before I heard another fusillade of gunfire.