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came, their obdurate, elliptical prose offered no choices. Orders simply informed men where they were to transport their families, the amount of time allowed for them to do it, and a description of their new assignment. Orders were a spare and skeletal literature.
    "Now it's time for the ol' Dad to do a solo number," Bull announced.
    "Oh, no. Not already," Lillian groaned.
    "Stick your head out the window when you sing this, Dad, so the windshields don't crack," Ben said.
    "Did your voice improve overseas, Dad?" Mary Anne asked. "Or does it still sound like an animal died in your throat?"
    "You got the worst voice I ever heard in my life," Matt said.
    "I like the way you sing, Daddy, don't listen," Karen said defensively.
    "That's my girl, Karen. Defend your poor ol' father."
    "Brown-noser," Mary Anne hissed at Karen. But her father had already begun singing the second traditional song of the trip.
     
    When they cut down the old pine tree,
    And they hauled it away to the mill,
    To make a coffin of pine
    For that sweetheart of mine
    When they cut down the ol' pine tree.
    The dog, Okra, began to bark fiercely at Colonel Meecham. But Bull continued his crooning.
     
    Oh, she's not alone in her grave tonight
    Alone, alone, she'll always be.
    When they cut down the pine for that sweetheart of mine
    When they cut down the ol' pine tree.
    "I can't believe it," Mrs. Meecham said," the worst voice in the world got worse in a year."
    "I could bring tears to the eyes of millions with that recording," Bull retorted, his feelings ruffled somewhat.
    "Even Okra thought you stunk, Dad," Matt said.
    "Who cares what that worthless mutt thinks. I'd be doing the whole family a favor if I got the car up to ninety and threw Okra out the window."
    "Yeah," Matt continued," ol' Okra just hates your guts. I've never seen Okra hate anybody except you."
    "That dog can't do one trick," Bull observed, lighting a cigar in the front seat.
    "Okra has too much pride to do tricks for mere human beings," Mary Anne stated officiously. "His mind is on spiritual matters."
    "Okra has one problem, sportsfans. The dog is stone dumb."
    Lillian turned her head toward her husband and said," He reminds me of a lot of Marines I've met."
    "Touché," Mary Anne cried.
    "O.K., enough yappin'. Let's sing the next song. What will be the next one?"
    "You're going too fast, Bull. Slow down, please," Lillian cautioned.
    "We got to make time. What's the next song?"
    "You're going too fast. You're going over seventy."
    "Christ, Lillian. I go five hundred knots in a jet practically every day of my life and you get nervous when I go seventy."
    "This isn't a jet, Bull."
    "What's the next song, sportsfans?"
    "Let's sing 'Dixie,'" Karen trilled.
    "Yes," the rest of the family agreed, except Bull.
    "Naw," he said," that's a loser's song. Nothing depresses me more than a loser's song. Let's sing something else."
    "No, 'Dixie,'" the others insisted.
    "O.K., you sing 'Dixie' and I'll sing 'The Battle Hymn of the Republic.' I'll sing a winner's song and you sing a loser's song."
    So they sang rival songs at the same time. Soon it was evident to Bull that he couldn't match the fire power of his family's combined voices, so he quit singing and concentrated sullenly on his driving and his cigar.
    "What a horseshit song," Bull mumbled when they were finished singing.
    "Watch your language, Bull."
    "Sing 'Dixie' if you want. But we all is heading out of Georgia, the armpit of Dixie. Of course we all is only going to South Carolina, the sphincter of America."
    Mary Anne yelled from the back of the car," You know what Chicago is, Popsy? It's the hemorrhoid of the planet earth."
    The rest of the family applauded.
    Mrs. Meecham said," Good girl, Mary Anne. Defend the South."
    "What's there to defend? The South ain't produced nothin' to defend. Except grits. Georgia ice cream or screwed-up Cream of Wheat."
    "It produced every single one of your children," Lillian reminded him," and your wife."
    "Only