Bombardment

Tension was running high in the troop, as we all knew tomorrow was the big test. The bombardment. How many of us would survive? Why did it have to be this way? Of course, we all wanted to get through it, so we could then get down to the real business of war, but it was going to be tough.
The setting was just one of a myriad of typical WWI training camps, very rustic, tucked away from sight. Old trucks for transport, course OD uniforms, a small group - maybe 30 guys & gals all told, destined for the artillery I think. It was suppertime, and like I said, we were all worried about tomorrow's training, because we would have to split up into two teams, hilltop to hilltop, & try to blast the living hell out of each other, prove our effectiveness with live fire. We were all seeing blood, and wondering if it was going to be our own.
I was pretty sure the situation was actually under control, but nobody really knows for sure. It's not like they were going to let us annihilate ourselves, right? Maybe they were going to give us fake shells, blanks or something, or they knew that our best accuracy wouldn't really put any of us at risk. Something like that - right?
Still, it didn't do a lot for your appetite, not knowing for sure. The chow hall was one of the bigger rooms, with a couple of plank tables, and plank benches. She was sitting at the other table, but we kept glancing at each other, brief eye contacts, conveying these questions and assurances back and forth. My normal seat had been taken, so I went around to the empty end of the bench on the other side. Kept trying to scoot my end of the bench out a bit, while most of my attention remained on her, now behind me. Every time I'd scoot the bench back a bit, I'd find the table still uncomfortably close... turned to my friend at my right and asked, "Give me a hand with this bench, will you?, I can't seem to get it to move."
Finally I notice that I had indeed swung the bench way out, but the Lieutenant at the end of the table had matched my moves exactly, swing the table with me. HAAAA! The joke was on me - broke the tension & the entire troop burst out laughing uproariously! So much so that, of course, I woke up (again).

a Leather Otter?

Last night i danced with a 'leather otter'. She was sitting on the front porch steps when i 1st noticed her. I can't say i wasn't a bit concerned - she was way big enuf to hurt me, but everybody said she was friendly, & hadn't been any trouble at all. Sure enuf, she gave me a big hug, a little snuffle, and things just kinda went from there. Never seen anything quite like her. She stood about 5 ft tall (tho preferred to slouch), was very pear shaped - not unlike a kangaroo in that respect, was covered in soft gray fur, but with some sort of leathery scale fringe - reminds me of 'big bird', now that i think of it. We did this little dance-shuffle around the porch for a while, which she seemed to enjoy (quivered a bit). I know i sure did - started laughing so hard i woke myself up (again)!
Had to just shake my head - a leather otter? - thank you Lord!
rolled over & went bak 2 sleep. but i remembered.