Before any of his family could follow the pillow, John took the kitchen door off its hinges and all nine held the door over the open window. The wind howled outside as they heard the tree on their front lawn knocked over by the wind and their washtub was picked up and dropped in a slough three-quarters of a mile away. After 30 minutes, a tremendous amount of time for a tornado that had already traveled several miles from another town, the tornado left.
       After many prayers and a frightful half-hour the door over the window had worked and the family was safe. However, even then the storm was not done. A thunderstorm of terrific power followed the wind.
       “The lightning was just crazy. It was just like daylight.” Bernice remembers.
Lightning, thunder and rain pounded the town all night until the next morning when people were able to go outside and evaluate the storm’s destruction.

The sign marking the townsite of Mose: “The town that blew away.” Not unlike a gravestone, its two dates show the founding of the town in 1899 and the year it was taken by the storm, 1943.

One of the grain elevators, half-full of grain, was moved eight feet off its foundation and split open, spilling grain everywhere. The two-story store had been turned to scrap, while the school, also one of the town’s bigger buildings, was blown off its foundation and twisted sideways, but left intact. Amazingly, the bigger buildings had been tossed about and blown apart by the storm while the smaller ones, such as the houses and the church, were all left in one piece. Also, almost miraculously, no one was seriously hurt.
     Stories stemmed from those spared by the storm. The Johnson’s aunt Anne, who lived outside town, had been baking bread that day and left it in the window to cool. The bread was found, still in its pan, in another slough far away from her house. In contrast, at the Leer house, not far from the Johnson’s, a kerosene lamp sat on their front porch untouched through the devastation.

After the storm, Ramsey’s grandmother lived in this old cook car from 1945 to 1958. The car was a relic from the bonanza days of farming in North Dakota.

    The storm had been larger than anyone in Mose could have known about. Similar stories resulted across the state as the entire eastern half of North Dakota survived a storm of biblical proportions that same night. It began at the state's capital city, Bismark, with 61 mph winds. From there the storm moved eastward, destroying farm property and wreaking havoc on towns like Carrington and Aneta. The storm split into two parts, one heading north and one heading south. By the time it reached the border and there were storms at Grand Forks, where winds reached 90 mph, and at Fargo. The strength of the storm faded as it crossed the Red River but still managed to cause damage in Minnesota in towns like Moorhead in the south and Thief River Falls in the north.

The house of Karl Sandbo, where he lived until 1975. He had been fishing with his son Ove and John Johnson the day of the storm.

    After the storm of 1943 the railroad company never rebuilt its grain elevator at Mose, moving the remaining building to Binford. The Johnsons moved to Greenfield to run another grain elevator. The story does not end there, however. John Johnson bought the land the railroad company abandoned for taxes. His daughter Helen, who married Ove Sandbo, took over as postmistress. The school was repaired and reset on its foundation and by 1945 the state principle would convince a new teacher, Elinor Ramsey, to move to Mose. After her husband returned from the war they would have a daughter, Dawn, and two twin sons, Terrence and Neal. After traveling the world as a Navy officer, deputy sheriff, border patrol officer, and teacher Terrence has returned to Mose. He purchased the land formerly owned by Johnson and plans to start a ranch on the land with his brother Neal.
     A black cat rubs against our legs as Terrence Ramsey and I visit about the town. Mose is now a hard place to notice, there is no railroad here anymore and the water table rose up and took the road running through the town. Instead, only a red sign at the side of an unmarked gravel road represents the town. The sign says: “Mose the town that blew away 1899 1943.”
     “You can take a look at the horizon and there might be a hanging gardens.” Ramsey says.
     Even in North Dakota, not everything is out in the open.