In October of 1962 I remember the Nike missile sites ringing the city with every battery in the launch position ready to fire.

We lived equidistant from two cities that were primary military/industrial targets, both 25 miles away with us in the middle.

My parents and three of the neighbor families held a little meeting and discussed about where to bug out to. They were fairly certain we would definitely all be dead if it was about to get any worse than it already was.

We got pulled from school. Each of us had a bag packed and ready to go at a moment's notice. The station wagon was already loaded with as much food and water as we could stick into it and still fit all seven of us inside, with even more stuff loaded on the roof rack.

One of the families had a place in the middle of West Virginia, their old family farm they still owned. It would be tight but there would be anough room for us in a pinch.

I still remember the men talking about what to do for several hours. Each one was a combat vet of either WWII or Korea, one was both. They were some pretty tough customers, my Marine Korean War vet dad included, and they were scared.

To say things were insanely intense would be an understatement.