That brings back memories
As a child and teenager I lived on RAF stations, and by the time I was 10 we KNEW that that we'd be first when the balloon went up. The alert sirens, even for pre-arranged practice used to make me sweat and vomit with fear. If there was a TACEVAL, there'd be no warning, and the local primary school would have half their pupils catatonic with fear for a week.

I had The Dream as well: standing in a high place with a charming gentleman beside me. Along the horizon, the flashes are going off with the mushroom clouds climbing like filthy tombstones into the stratosphere. The gentleman is proud; we are worshipping him properly at last. He tells me he'd love to stay and watch some more, but the blast front will be arriving soon, and there's going be a such a lot of paperwork to get through.

The Dream stopped after Gorby took over in Russia; I sent him a letter of thanks, and his staff replied saying they'd had a few like it.
(all my scars face forward possesses 2.5% of a hyperalloy combat chassis, Sat 9 Apr 2011, 11:45, Reply)