That's hilarious. I have a bed story from my gramps as well, one of very few that he told.
They were on the line in Italy after landing at Anzio, and one day there was a lull in the fighting. My grandfather told me he and the boys caught a chicken in the morning, and he spent the rest of the afternoon collecting straw to make a bed in his dugout. He worked all friggin' day making it perfect.... sun goes down, firefight starts and he gets shrapnel in his back from a grenade. Tough SOB crawled by himself back to the nearest aid station and was in hospital for a couple weeks after that. Had shrapnel in his back the rest of his life... but what actually bothered him wasn't the injury, it was that his boys wrote him a letter telling him they enjoyed his bed and the chicken without him