Laying in bed on Saturday morning, I turned on my radio to my favorite classic rock station. As I listened to the music, I slipped into and out of sleep several times.
However, I must have dropped off into REM sleep because I started dreaming about an A-10 Wart Hog firing at an enemy position to my right front. The aircraft has a distinctive sound when the pilot lets the 30mm gun mounted in the nose blaze.
Bbbbbrrrrpppfff…Bbbbbrrrrpppfff…Bbbbbrrrrpppfff.
In my dream, which quickly became a night terror because we were “danger close,” and the bullets ripped through the ground nearest us. The pounding of the weapon becomes a staccato tattoo that leaves a frightening yet exciting impression in the memory.
Suddenly, the aircraft peeled off and flew away, and I woke up to the sound of In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida by Iron Butterfly. It was certainly anything but “In the Garden of Eden.”
I got up to shower but could not empty my mind of the song or the dream. I finally had to go online and listen to the entire 22-minute gallon of Red Mountain wine-fueled tune out of my head.
And there it was, the drum solo midway through and the bane of my night terror. It sounded enough line an A-10 in a firefight that now, even without sleeping or dreaming, I hear the Warthog at work.
I shared this with a fellow veteran in Virginia City via social media, but I never heard back because perhaps, like me, it was too “danger close” for him.
The Old Blog in the Desert 