A thought I had about that documentary I linked to last night:
I had considered that I had met a similar fate to the soldier who died laying barbed wire before having seen that documentary, but really had little to support that.
That being said, thinking about it in the context of the information they gave, it does allow at least one memory to make more sense.
The memory of the supposed artillery bombardment that I had previously thought had led to my death could have been misinterpreted, as a lot of things don’t add up in that context.
If it was an artillery bombardment, why was I on an earth embankment next to the trenches and not down in them, if not down in a dugout?
If it was an artillery bombardment, then why did the shells look more like the flares they showed?
If it was an artillery bombardment, then why are there only 3 soldiers from my division in the cemeteries in Houplines from that particular date, 2 of whom are from an entirely different regiment?
Also, if it was an artillery bombardment rather than some dangerous mission, then my epitaph (“He did his duty”) means a great deal less.
I believe now I may have been doing something out in No Man’s Land with a few other soldiers. Perhaps not laying barbed wire, but we were discovered. Flares went up, and before I could get back to the safety of the trench something got me. I don’t recall feeling any pain, just a loud “WHOOMP!” a feeing of being face down in the dry, dusty earth, then darkness and silence. That “WHOOMP!” could just as easily have been a trench mortar, a grenade, or even a heavy volley of machine gun fire. Whatever it is, I believe it was fast and I don’t think I was fully aware that I had died.
Also, a dream I had just a little while ago when I came home and took a nap, which may be entirely random:
I was somewhere in Germany (I saw “Bayern” on a sign so I’m guessing Bavaria). It was a city with a lot of modern architecture and lots of green spaces with broad-leafed trees. There was a wide stairway set up a bit like a section of an ampitheater with its curved steps, going down about 20 feet. It led to a series of elevators with stainless steel doors, which led to an underground rail station of some sort (the feeling I had was that it was an inter-city rail and not a light commuter rail).
Down inside the station, there was a restroom that had these broken green stone or bronze statues of winged goddesses in an art deco style, along with a larger-than-life hand mirror. The text on the wall (in English no less) explained that these were decorative accents from a radio mast it cryptically referred to as the “night tower.”
I’m placing my bets that this is the end result of a lot of art history classes and several friends with past life memories of Germany, but I thought it was worth recording nonetheless.