My father-in-law has a farm southwest from St. Louis. On one weekend, all the brothers, sisters, and in-laws came down for hay bailing season. That evening, all the men were playing cards in the kitchen when a storm started brewing.
My father-in-law went outside, looked at the storm, and came back inside. His only words were "time to head to the basement", at which all the girls and children headed for the root cellar. Of course, us macho guys stayed upstairs still playing cards.
About 15 minutes later, we heard the "train sound" coming quickly. We all hit the floor and crawled under the tables or whatever we could find. It seemed like an eternity, but it was over in about 15 seconds.
The next day, we went outside and there was a path about 5' wide cut through the woods and hay fields, and nothing was left standing in the pathway. And, the path was less than 1/4 mile from the house.
After that experience, we never questioned our father-in-law about the weather. That was the closest I have ever been to a tornado and, I hope, that last time.