World War I

Discussion in 'Member's Memories - Archive' started by Shebber, May 18, 2001.

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  1. Shebber

    Shebber Guest

    Firstly, as a very small child ( well before I could walk or talk ), certain memories were very clear. These related to what I now believe to be a past life, but to me then, they were intertwined with my new life and were quite confusing. As time passed, I could feel the focus of these memories becoming more and more hazy, even though some of these memories were not pleasant, I made a conscious effort to retain as much I as could. This took place within my first 18 months, indeed I can still recollect things from this very early age, much to the astonishment of my family, but to me it seems perfectly natural.

    I enjoyed a normal childhood, with one very great exception. I found that by relaxing, either fully awake or on the verge of sleep, I could tap into these memories and “re-live” past experiences. As I grew more adept at this, it became apparent that there was more than one lifetime’s memories involved.

    By the time I began school at 4 years old, I had learnt not to speak of past life experiences outright, as it became apparent that I had a gift ( or a curse ) that no one else seemed to possess. As I grew older, I occasionally tried to impart my knowledge in an indirect way, Teachers, were always dismissive of my comments when I would point out inaccuracies in such things as Roman and medieval costumes in the school history books.

    By my late teens, I had mastered the art of being able to visit these lives almost at will, and through meditation, found it possible to select specific periods from each one. One revelation was a of being a lowly infantryman in the British trenches during the battle of Ypres 1917 and feeling that the war was not being fought like “the last one”. The last one being battle outside a castle hundreds of years before in which I played a dominant role as a senior commander. Then as now, I had the feeling of not quite belonging in that time, and knowing with 100% certainty that I had lived several times before and would likely do so again following an inevitable death in the carnage that was WWI.

    I went on a vacation round the WWI battlefields of Flanders. The countryside, buildings and preserved trenches brought back memories from my most recent past life. Eventually re-visiting Paschendael, the place where I was killed in 1917 was utterly overwhelming.

    I can remember pieces from several past lives in which my body was slightly different, but looked basically as do now. I have actually managed to obtain a photo taken in 1916 of my former-self which is very similar to my appearance in this life. So much so that many friends that have been indoctrinated into not accepting reincarnation suspect it is a fake photo of me taken in a military uniform from WWI.
     
  2. Deborah

    Deborah Executive Director Staff Member

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    Italy during WWI & WWII


    I remember World War I and II -but from the perspective of a woman living in Italy. I helped many Jews escape..I lost my whole family to a bombing near our home. I lost my love in a motorcycle car to another bombing. Such sorrow...such trauma. I never married, never had children and lived alone.


    I can to this day remember the sirens, the screaming, the endless tears. I also remember my uncle coming to check on me and the vineyards my father owned -- and standing at the train station - the whistle of the train still rings in my ears.


    Deborah
     
  3. Tatinne

    Tatinne Senior Registered

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    WWI Pilots

    I was an American pilot. The only name I have for myself that life is "James" -- though only one person could get away with callling me that it, and given what a capricious little thing she was, it may or may not have been my given name! I was more commonly called by a nickname (no surprise there) though I've yet to figure out what it was.

    I don't have many memories from the war itself. Mostly I know I was in it because the memories I have from the late 20s include it as part of my identity. I knew I'd been part of it; I just didn't think about it much.

    I'm pretty sure I was in WWII, as well -- but again, no real memories there. Just a hunch. What I - do - remember is the wonderful rush of flying and doing air stunts in a dog fight... scandalized my mother when as a kid I wanted to be a stunt pilot! Loved the Disney series TaleSpin -- and yes, I was still watching cartoons then ;)

    Nothing ever felt so right as the first time I put on a bomber jacket. Found the thing for five bucks at a Goodwill -- ratty, beat-up, stained, in need of repair... but you couldn't get me to put it back.
     
  4. mav

    mav Senior Registered

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    My name was Jamie - I died at the Somme.

    About my former me! I'll give the useful details I can -- the problem is, I had a brother Andrew, and there's really a blur between what I picture as my uniform, what I picture as his!

    First things first: My name, I believe, was James (Jamie) -- and we think the surname was Evans -- but Campbell or Cambpell are also possibilities. I had an elder brother Andrew (who incidentally, I have met in this life, but I don't think he knew ) and in my family there seems to have been someone of importance to me called Thomas, and someone called Charles Albert (Charley)--they may be older bothers, uncles, I don't know--maybe even guys I knew in the war. The only James Evans I found on the 1901 census that possibly had a brother Andrew was in Glamorgan -- but I have no feeling at all that I ever lived in Wales. I believe I was born in 1896, putting my age at 20 when I died at the Somme, Andrew would have been, I’m sure 7 or 8 years older.

    I recall a mainly country childhood -- biking/ walking up and down hills, hedged lanes--not close to a railway or many cars. I miss seeing the Harvest being brought in, the community spirit that accompanied it. This is about as much as I can tell you about my home life--except I think it was a farmhouse that I lived in, or similar, and it had a green stair carpet, twisted stairs, with a tiny widow on the first landing where a pot of carnations stood in a bright yellow vase!-- not particularly revealing! I love woods and forests, and the Loch Awe area of Scotland is where I feel at home--I even found the name of a friend on the local war memorial there. I'm pretty sure either Andrew or I wore a Glengarry of the Seaforth Highlanders type, yet I’ve always felt closets to the Argyll and Sutherlands as so far as Scots regiments go.

    I believe it must be Andrew who wore a kilted uniform because when I saw the person he is now, I immediately pictured him in one--one that turns out to be the Forbes Tartan worn by the Liverpool Scots. I also know that someone else wore the kilt of the Seaforths yet I don't feel it was either of us--I always draw 'normal' Tommy uniforms in my war pics--with trousers and puttees, so I think I must have not been a kiltie--I did wonder about Royal Scots because someone mentioned that some of theirs wore trousers, but I don't know how true that is. Mystery number two is that I always pictured a cap badge consisting of a thistle but was told this would only have applied to the London Scottish up to 1809 by one person, though another told me it was for the Scots Reserves--I don't know if this meant for all Scots reserve regt, or just a particular one. If these were only worn until '09 then it must have been Andrew's, and he must have been in the regt before the war --but then where does the Liverpool Scottish kilt come in!!!

    I know I wore a soft service hat, so I must have been in before 1916 but no other cap badges come to mind--I suppose, since a person doesn't look at themselves, it is perhaps likely that I did see Andrew's more than my own. I know or am pretty sure I wasn't a fusilier, that I was not an officer and was in the infantry. I know Andrew was killed in 1915, and I’m pretty sure I wore, or wanted to wear the 'black button one my tunic--I have a feeling I was not allowed. The regiment, I feel more for are the Arg.+Suth (but they're kilted) Black Watch (ditto), Royal Scots (?), Devons, (the Norfolks - but can't think that the hat badge is right), Cameronians, West Kents or Surreys. There is a Canadian regiment that is a possibility but I can't recall it, and I don't think the Jamie they had was killed.

    I know I was killed in 1916, either on the First Day of The Somme or in the lead up to it, I went through Amiens to get there ( I have a good memory of a Cathedral). Courtrai has some importance, and so does the area of Tynecot , my first war poem came in Sancturay wood. I'm pretty sure I was to be on the attack on Mametz- Montauban type of area--whether this was the intention of my regiment for the Somme Offensive opening, or at an earlier date, I don't know. I'd also definitely been to Wipers in Belgium during my service.

    The other main problem is that I have a feeling I possibly signed up under a false name and age, putting my real age at 18, my army age at 20 in 1916. I think Jamie was my real name--but this obviously makes searching archives difficult. The only Scots lead I’ve found is a Jamie Campbell from the Loch Awe area who emigrated to Canada ( I can recognise Canadian Mountain on my mum's pictures--and hadn't been previously told they were Canadian) and joined up there--but the name of his regiment means nothing t me, nor have I ay way of checking if this man had a brother Andrew. The other thing that makes things a bit problematic is that I was killed by an allied officer--well murdered/ shot and left for dead-and died in a field hospital through some bushes from this wood clearing, in the back area-not something that will be noted in regimental journals! I wasn't shot for cowardice--I have a feeling I had witnessed him do something he obviously shouldn't have--there us a possibility I stopped him shooting a German prisoner.

    Other clues? I remember a small group of soldiers being trained on a green in a town or village near where I lived--if you know Invereray, the green is near the Harbour--it was like that--some kid of scuffle broke out between the trainees and the sergeant--quite a big fight. I also seems a makeshift memorial of names had started on a wooden framed board on the side of a building at the end of the street facing the water (a shop?). the next bit, I don't know if its really part of the memory, but there seems to have been some unrest about German submarines!

    The other thing I wonder is that since I am currently very short, was I a Bantam....I can't find any of their badges

    If anyone has any ideas, they would be most welcome! and please don't think I’m kidding--these are genuinely what I remember, confusing as it is!
     
  5. samuelsonalia

    samuelsonalia Senior Registered

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    Past Life in Russia during WWI

    I worked for the Tzar and his family in Russia during WWI. I just remember I was a woman in my early 20's. I think I just basically worked around the house and helped with the kids. I remember carrying food around on a tray. I also remember being outside of a house and there were kids playing in the yard, while the adults sat around and talked. I haven't looked anything up on this subject and I don't really know anything else, except what I remember.
     
  6. Ailish

    Ailish Administrator Emerita

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    Italy in WWI


    Hi Everyone,


    Deborah and I promised to share a little bit about our recent past life discoveries. We’re still working hard and documenting a lot of our shared experiences – which we’ve realized will be quite an extensive, on-going thing! ;)


    As we mentioned in the California Adventure Thread -- the most recent life we shared together – was in Northern Italy. You may have read Deborah’s threads about Italy – and the trip she took there this past summer.


    The odd thing – is neither of us made the connection regarding this life – although we’d both read each other’s memories on the forum, it wasn’t until that last day together -- when we actually sat down to do some past life work – and have a discussion that we started to realize…


    Deborah asked me about my Italy life – and the excitement in her voice when she said “I had a sister in Italy!” made me look at her twice before I could speak. The conversation was flying back and forth as we were quizzing, comparing and questioning. The description of the bedroom we shared – down to which way the windows opened – the house, the vineyard – the barn, Mamma’s garden on the side of the house, stone wall, and the big olive tree in the front yard – everything matched.


    Since I’ve returned home from our visit – we’ve been exchanging e-mails with our journal entries – sharing our memories, documenting and researching.


    We’ve found so many validations – from words spoken in Italian – to Christmas, Valeria’s 17th birthday celebration and various other traditions. It’s been – absolutely fascinating.


    The first thing that caught our attention was – a name. I called my sister Lera. Deborah’s name was Valeria. My sister was 5 years older – hers was five years younger. We both knew Valeria was the oldest. We both had a brother and lived on a vineyard. She remembers a photo of an Uncle on our mantle – who went to war. I had described a young, fun-loving Uncle – Papa’s brother – who used to make faces at me so I’d laugh in church.


    We’ll share a few snippets here…


    Deborah has memories of hiding a wounded German soldier in the family barn – underneath the floorboards.


    I have memories of my sister sneaking out our bedroom to meet a boy after everyone had gone to bed. The following entries are from my journal:


    I am 11 years old. I am in bed, staring at the light on the wall. I hear my sister, Lera stir and look over at her. She is sitting, fully dressed on the edge of her bed putting on her shoes. I know where she is going. To meet that boy again. I sit up and tell her not to go. Papa will be so angry if he catches her. She sits on my bed, touches my cheek and tells me not to worry about her – she tells me she loves him and will marry him when she is eighteen. I am torn. I adore my sister and want her to be happy…but it is not right to go against Papa. She tells me that one day I will understand and she kisses my forehead. I watch as she moves to the window and climbs out. I know the soldier has put a ladder from the barn there. He always does. I wait a moment and go to the window – I watch as he kisses her, takes her hand and they run across the yard. I feel like I am losing my sister and I feel dislike for this boy/man of hers.


    Valeria lost her entire family in an air raid in WWI. I didn’t know how I died exactly – but this was my description from my journal:


    There is noise and confusion. Loud claps of noise like thunder. Flying objects. Something hits me, knocks me down. I hear Papa calling my name. There is smoke. I cannot see him. I am coughing. I see flames. I feel hot – burning – my dress is on fire. Where is Mamma? Papa is calling her name “Maria!” He’s calling for Luca and for me again “Nicoletta!” I hit at the flames, but they spread, my hands are burned…the skin is bubbled. I can’t move under the rocks. My legs are trapped. It’s hot. My head is on fire – my hair. I smell it. Smell the flesh. I’m scared, so scared.


    In this life -- I have a terrible feeling of dread when I hear planes flying overhead. My stomach clenches and I hold my breath until they pass – it’s something I’ve done since I was a little girl. I remember being certain someone would drop a bomb on me. I didn’t grow out of that fear until I was over ten years old – but I still hate planes.


    I also never liked the sound of thunder. To me, it sounded like bombs dropping – flashes of lightning on a dusky skyline looked like explosions in the distance. I can appreciate the beauty of a storm now – but occasionally we get some major storms where I live – and the sheet lightning reminds me again – of bombs.


    For some reason – I never connected either of those things -- to Nicoletta’s life.
     
  7. recycling

    recycling New Member

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    Stationed in Germany


    I know that I was in the infantry, that my division arrived in Europe towards the end of the war, and that it was in occupation duties in Germany. Judging from how dry the soil was, the occupation must have been in summer.


    Here are some details I remember: The town we were stationed had some wooden houses and a little "far west" feeling. The bayonet I used was a lot like this 1917 Eddystone. I must have seen some action since my left arm was wounded and moving it was hard. I don't remember the battles and I'm not sure I want to. I only know I have issues with army cots: you'd convince me of sleeping on the floor or of staying awake before getting me to sleep in one of those. I'm guessing they were in use back then, but I wouldn't know what they were like. I also remember my boots were pretty worn, and that I had improvised (?) some sort of leggings. I think the boots were low.


    I didn't like war one bit and was bitter against "those responsible". I'm afraid I didn't like my unit much, and it was mutual. Maybe because I was gay, maybe because they were the kind of people who thought "being friendly with the locals" involved raping them.


    The death scene was an ambush. I suppose you don't go into town with a gun. At any rate all I had was the bayonet, and I used it as a knife. It must have been a common use because they did, too.
     
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