“THEY ARE coming more and more often,” the farmer says angrily. Driving out of his yard he had quarrelled with a woman with a clipboard, accompanied by a policeman, checking whether he had any men who could be mobilised for the army. In another part of the farm he turns the car over to a colleague. On the way to a storage area she spots a distant plume of smoke in the fields. “Get the fire brigade!” she yells into her phone. As she parks by a warehouse, two women shovelling grain spot the police car behind her and shout to a male colleague: “Hide!”