Database: July 1916 - Revision history

imported>Lady Kyashira at 04:43, 1 July 2020

2020-07-01T04:43:53Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 06:43, 1 July 2020
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	[[File:ACS_DB_July_1916.jpg\|~~thumb~~]]		[[File:ACS_DB_July_1916.jpg\|right\|250px]]
	Dear Father Spencer,		Dear Father Spencer,

	I am writing to you because I don't wish to unburden myself to my family and you have so often been a source of spiritual solace. It's true I haven't always been the most diligent churchgoer in town, but I left for [[World War I\|this war]] with prayer in my heart, and your words when last we spoke have been ever-present in my mind. It can only be God's grace that allows me to write to you now, with so many of my companions suffering a worse fate. You may have read in the papers of the fighting happening by the river Somme. However terrible their accounts, and however alarming the number of casualties reported, nothing can come close to describing the horrors of the battlefield. All I remember is the noise and the sliding of my boots in the mud as I ran. Only it wasn't only mud, Father. It wasn't only mud. Once I fell and lay in it, mercifully unconscious. I woke to find something heavy weighing me down. I lay there for what seemed like hours, too afraid to move, until someone pushed the body off me and saw I still lived. How can such things happen in the world, Father? And how are we to bear them?		I am writing to you because I don't wish to unburden myself to my family and you have so often been a source of spiritual solace. It's true I haven't always been the most diligent churchgoer in town, but I left for [[World War I\|this war]] with prayer in my heart, and your words when last we spoke have been ever-present in my mind. It can only be God's grace that allows me to write to you now, with so many of my companions suffering a worse fate. You may have read in the papers of the fighting happening by the river Somme. However terrible their accounts, and however alarming the number of casualties reported, nothing can come close to describing the horrors of the battlefield. All I remember is the noise and the sliding of my boots in the mud as I ran. Only it wasn't only mud, Father. It wasn't only mud. Once I fell and lay in it, mercifully unconscious. I woke to find something heavy weighing me down. I lay there for what seemed like hours, too afraid to move, until someone pushed the body off me and saw I still lived. How can such things happen in the world, Father? And how are we to bear them?

	Stephen Bennings		[[Stephen Bennings]]

	(Sergeant Bennings returned home weeks after the Battle of the Somme and was diagnosed with shell shock.)		(Sergeant Bennings returned home weeks after the {{Wiki\|Battle of the Somme}} and was diagnosed with shell shock.)
	{{DEFAULTSORT:July 1916}}		{{DEFAULTSORT:July 1916}}
	[[Category:Database: Collectibles]]		[[Category:Database: Collectibles]]
	[[Category:Helix database entries]]		[[Category:Helix database entries]]

imported>Piero.schiavone1994 at 21:32, 15 January 2017

2017-01-15T21:32:31Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 23:32, 15 January 2017
Line 2:		Line 2:
	Dear Father Spencer,		Dear Father Spencer,

	I am writing to you because I don't wish to unburden myself to my family and you have so often been a source of spiritual solace. It's true I haven't always been the most diligent churchgoer in town, but I left for this war with prayer in my heart, and your words when last we spoke have been ever-present in my mind. It can only be God's grace that allows me to write to you now, with so many of my companions suffering a worse fate. You may have read in the papers of the fighting happening by the river Somme. However terrible their accounts, and however alarming the number of casualties reported, nothing can come close to describing the horrors of the battlefield. All I remember is the noise and the sliding of my boots in the mud as I ran. Only it wasn't only mud, Father. It wasn't only mud. Once I fell and lay in it, mercifully unconscious. I woke to find something heavy weighing me down. I lay there for what seemed like hours, too afraid to move, until someone pushed the body off me and saw I still lived. How can such things happen in the world, Father? And how are we to bear them?		I am writing to you because I don't wish to unburden myself to my family and you have so often been a source of spiritual solace. It's true I haven't always been the most diligent churchgoer in town, but I left for [[World War I\|this war]] with prayer in my heart, and your words when last we spoke have been ever-present in my mind. It can only be God's grace that allows me to write to you now, with so many of my companions suffering a worse fate. You may have read in the papers of the fighting happening by the river Somme. However terrible their accounts, and however alarming the number of casualties reported, nothing can come close to describing the horrors of the battlefield. All I remember is the noise and the sliding of my boots in the mud as I ran. Only it wasn't only mud, Father. It wasn't only mud. Once I fell and lay in it, mercifully unconscious. I woke to find something heavy weighing me down. I lay there for what seemed like hours, too afraid to move, until someone pushed the body off me and saw I still lived. How can such things happen in the world, Father? And how are we to bear them?

	Stephen Bennings		Stephen Bennings

imported>Amnestyyy: Created page with "thumb Dear Father Spencer, I am writing to you because I don't wish to unburden myself to my family and you have so often been a source of spiri..."

2015-11-02T00:18:28Z

Created page with "thumb Dear Father Spencer, I am writing to you because I don't wish to unburden myself to my family and you have so often been a source of spiri..."

Páàjì titun

[[File:ACS_DB_July_1916.jpg|thumb]]
Dear Father Spencer,

I am writing to you because I don't wish to unburden myself to my family and you have so often been a source of spiritual solace. It's true I haven't always been the most diligent churchgoer in town, but I left for this war with prayer in my heart, and your words when last we spoke have been ever-present in my mind. It can only be God's grace that allows me to write to you now, with so many of my companions suffering a worse fate. You may have read in the papers of the fighting happening by the river Somme. However terrible their accounts, and however alarming the number of casualties reported, nothing can come close to describing the horrors of the battlefield. All I remember is the noise and the sliding of my boots in the mud as I ran. Only it wasn't only mud, Father. It wasn't only mud. Once I fell and lay in it, mercifully unconscious. I woke to find something heavy weighing me down. I lay there for what seemed like hours, too afraid to move, until someone pushed the body off me and saw I still lived. How can such things happen in the world, Father? And how are we to bear them?

Stephen Bennings

(Sergeant Bennings returned home weeks after the Battle of the Somme and was diagnosed with shell shock.)
{{DEFAULTSORT:July 1916}}
[[Category:Database: Collectibles]]
[[Category:Helix database entries]]