This happened during our posting to France in the 60's when we were en route to England from Metz in a second-hand Mercedes and a new Dutch trailer, happily anticipating 2 weeks' holidays. My newly-married sister had come up from Madrid to join us. At a stop-street in a small town in northern France, we waited while a convoy of armoured tanks turned into our street from the right, the roar and the rumble deafening. The kids were so thrilled - what an opportunity to see tanks so close! Wow. But hey, where is that last tank going? And what's the crew looking at, off to the right? Excuse me, guys? Would you mind? Look where you're going!!! All rational thought ceased in the car at this point and we sat frozen, unbelieving, waiting for the end, as it headed our way. When the tank hit us, peeling off the left front like tissue-paper, it didn't even shudder and wouldn't have stopped were it not for the townspeople running hysterically after the tank, waving their arms. The captain of course was tres apologetic, and insisting that we go back to the Officers' Mess for lunch. Eating was the last thing on our minds. What we really wanted to do was throw up. So close ... so close .... They could have chewed us up and spit us out without even a burp. We had come face-to-face with our mortality and he's TALKING LUNCH?His crew were able to straighten the twisted metal so we were able to get to Zweibrucken and the Mercedes garage at 25 mph where we camped for a week before again heading to England, where it rained every day but one. With the ferry crossing the roughest in 25 years, the Vacation from Hell was born.
But I gained new understanding of why people, when faced with doom one way or another, freeze. No longer "why didn't they run?" "why didn't they get out?" You can't. Period. Your survival instincts - probably because of the shock - seem to close down and motor power is the first victim.
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