Battle Rattle

As most of you know, at the completion of a highly successful flying career ( I had exactly the same number of takeoffs as landings), I was sent to bring the gospel of Saint LeMay to the heathens at Fort Leavenworth and help them gain an understanding of the word "Joint".

No, Beans, we're not talking about some newly legalized method of making the world go away.

I was there to learn about how the Army operates at the various levels of conflict and help them to understand what the Air Force brought to the fight.  I was so good, or bad, at this mission, that I was directed to stay for an additional year.  Which was okay as Mrs J, then Captain J, would also be attending "Armeee Training, Sir" that year.

In any case, during that second year, we got to go on several "Field Trips", one to the National Training Center at Fort Irwin California.  This is the Army's version of the Air Forces Red Flag exercise at Nellis AFB NV.  It endeavors to make the exercise as realistic as possible without, hopefully, although regretfully occasionally, anyone dying.

In any case, we arrive out there and are promptly issued gear.  Helmets, all sorts of equipment harnesses and such.  Thankfully, my roommate for these trips was a Ranger and extremely adept at getting things like this together.

He was helpful.

I retired as  Lt Col.  He's still on Active Duty.  Sharp man!

Source

He also told me that the slang term for all this stuff was "Battle Rattle."

Which is a long explanation of the title of this post.

It was earlier this week,  a hot summer day in July in Texas.  There's been a lot of rain in the past few weeks so humidity is in the upper half of the percentages most of the time.  It kinda saps the energy out of you.

So,  I decided that I, as master of my world (Mrs J was at an appointment or something),  would take a nap.

I get the curtains drawn and climb into the rack.  Feline flight is out on patrol somewhere so Canine flight assumes alert 5 status from launch facilities around the bed and I settle in.

I must have been tired as I very quickly went to sleep and started dreaming.  I don't typically get to the dream state in a nap.

Anyhoo...

I'm in this nap and all of a sudden, I hear a fierce rattling sound.

As you know, I live in the country...in Texas.  Texas has these things that have diamonds on their backs and rattles on their tails.  We don't like those things.

In any case, I am now not sleeping any more,  and am a couple of feet above the bed, horizontally moving towards the door.  I'm not sure which muscle, or combination thereof, was used in that manner of levitation, but it was effective.

Outside the bedroom, I hear the rattle slow and then cease.  It seems to have been coming from under the bed, so I get a broom and flashlight.  Maintaining a safe-ish distance from the bed, I lift the bedspread, turn on the flashlight and look underneath.

One of the Russian Blues is playing "Bat the Cicada" with his paws and the Cicada is not happy.

Ahhh, the joys of owning Cats.  Their sense of humor is beguiling.

Yes, the Cicada was given a burial at sea.  No, I did not return to my nap.  I think my pulse is back to normal now though.