Our house was hit by a tornado when I was 6. My little brother was 3. It was April 3, 1974 - the superoutbreak.
We were in the den with Mom, watching TV. Dad was at choir practice at church (it was a Wednesday night). Suddenly Mom yelled at us to run for the basement. I was half asleep and didn't know what she had heard, but I ran because of the tone of her voice (she sounded terrified) and she grabbed my brother. We got downstairs and huddled into the corner that was completely underground with Mom protecting us with her body. Glass went everywhere and a tree fell on our roof. It was so loud. Mom thought the whole roof was being torn off and was praying to Jesus to save us. I had never heard Mom pray out loud like that (only the blessing, or a Sunday School prayer, not literally shouting out to God).
We had over 20 trees down in our yard. Dad finally made it home, but he couldn't drive all the way to the house because of trees down in the road. I was worried about our dog, as she hadn't come downstairs with us, but she was okay.
We were so much more fortunate that others; my best friend's house was totally gone. And of course, we were most fortunate in that we were all okay. There were 36 injuries and 1 death in our small city. It was an F4 tornado.
Back in April 1998, I wasn't personally in the tornado, but an F5 hit this area and I was working. It was my first time to work a disaster. We got 36 trauma patients in just a few hours (normal is 0-6 in a day!). Thirty-four people died; one of them was my co-worker's 8 year old son.
There is a book about the experiences of the victims and the survivors.
http://books.google.com/books?id=Rr...cover&dq=eyes+in+a+storm#v=onepage&q=&f=false
It's horrifying what they all went through.