April232014
April222014

War Horse: novel, film and play. Which is your favourite?

(Mine is no secret - i LOVED the play. The New London Theatre does £15 day tickets for War Horse for personal callers to the box office. I am seriously considering seeing it again.)

5PM
5PM
4AM
demons:


Reading a message this dog has just delivered. He has just swam across a canal to get to his master, c. 1917

The message would been scrolled up inside a waterproof container attached to the dogs collar. It is likely that the kit bag worn on the handlers chest would have contained the incoming and outgoing messages.  After recruitment from Battersea Dogs’ Home, trainee messenger dogs were trained for service at The War Dog Training School in Shoeburyness, England. Once their training had been completed, the dogs were posted to kennels at Etaples in France, which was close to the Western Front. The dogs were then posted to kennels just behind the front line, where they joined up with infantry regiments.

demons:

Reading a message this dog has just delivered. He has just swam across a canal to get to his master, c. 1917

The message would been scrolled up inside a waterproof container attached to the dogs collar. It is likely that the kit bag worn on the handlers chest would have contained the incoming and outgoing messages.

After recruitment from Battersea Dogs’ Home, trainee messenger dogs were trained for service at The War Dog Training School in Shoeburyness, England. Once their training had been completed, the dogs were posted to kennels at Etaples in France, which was close to the Western Front. The dogs were then posted to kennels just behind the front line, where they joined up with infantry regiments.

(Source: Flickr / nlscotland, via velociraptorwithaquillpen)

April212014

Captain Harry Townsend,1918

Captain Harry Townsend,1918

(Source: thelastkaiser, via velociraptorwithaquillpen)

April192014

“Unending struggle against unfair odds, culminating in a cheap funeral.”

—Siegried Sassoon’s summation of life before the Great War (via portablefrailty)

6AM

“This afternoon is glowing with the languorous warmth of the dying summer; the sun is a shield of burnished gold in a sea of turquoise; the bees are in the clover that overhangs the trench - and my superficial, beauty-loving self is condescending to be very conscious of the joy of living. It is a pity to kill people on a day like this.”

—Roland Leighton to Vera Brittain, from France, September 1915. (via one-great-war)

April182014
themastersbeard:

I have many, many, many favourite books, but if you were to ask me which  has most drastically changed my life, I would answer Testament of Youth. It wasn’t until I read Vera’s memoir that I feel I even began to understand the impact of war. It wasn’t until I read her memoir that I began to identify as a pacifist. 
When I decided upon visiting Brighton (thank you Shrewsbury for having accommodation that was far too expensive), my first plan was to visit Victor Richardson’s grave. He’s buried in Hove, and I had only realised the fact after visiting my friend Iris back in August.
It was a bit of a struggle to find the grave. I walked from Brighton to Hove armed with my flowers (those pitiful looking yellow ones in the photo are mine) only to realise that the cemetery had no map, and hundreds and hundred of tombstones. I eventually managed to access a map of the cemetery online, and finally to find Victor’s grave amongst the dozens nestled in the back. There wasn’t a single other person there, and for that I’m a rather glad. I ended up crying as soon as I spotted saw his name on the tombstone.
[snipped]
I wish I had written something to leave on his grave, but I didn’t think of it until it was too late. I don’t know what I would say- obviously Victor would never receive it- and can one possibly say? To Tah, I’m sorry for what you had to suffer, you are always remembered. As if words could ever begin to offer solace for what he, or the thousands like him, had to and continue to endure.

I snipped a bit in the middle for Historical Fact “”Spoilers”” because I am indulging in the fantasy that anyone ever might manage to read this book (or watch the film) without knowing what will happen - but that said, the OP posted a lovely story and you should follow hir back to the original post and read it. :)

themastersbeard:

I have many, many, many favourite books, but if you were to ask me which  has most drastically changed my life, I would answer Testament of Youth. It wasn’t until I read Vera’s memoir that I feel I even began to understand the impact of war. It wasn’t until I read her memoir that I began to identify as a pacifist. 

When I decided upon visiting Brighton (thank you Shrewsbury for having accommodation that was far too expensive), my first plan was to visit Victor Richardson’s grave. He’s buried in Hove, and I had only realised the fact after visiting my friend Iris back in August.

It was a bit of a struggle to find the grave. I walked from Brighton to Hove armed with my flowers (those pitiful looking yellow ones in the photo are mine) only to realise that the cemetery had no map, and hundreds and hundred of tombstones. I eventually managed to access a map of the cemetery online, and finally to find Victor’s grave amongst the dozens nestled in the back. There wasn’t a single other person there, and for that I’m a rather glad. I ended up crying as soon as I spotted saw his name on the tombstone.

[snipped]

I wish I had written something to leave on his grave, but I didn’t think of it until it was too late. I don’t know what I would say- obviously Victor would never receive it- and can one possibly say? To Tah, I’m sorry for what you had to suffer, you are always remembered. As if words could ever begin to offer solace for what he, or the thousands like him, had to and continue to endure.

I snipped a bit in the middle for Historical Fact “”Spoilers”” because I am indulging in the fantasy that anyone ever might manage to read this book (or watch the film) without knowing what will happen - but that said, the OP posted a lovely story and you should follow hir back to the original post and read it. :)

(via worthyourtears)

April172014

I saw a man this morning
Who did not wish to die;
I ask, and cannot answer,
if otherwise wish I.

Fair broke the day this morning
Upon the Dardanelles:
The breeze blew soft, the morn’s cheeks
Were cold as cold sea-shells.

But other shells are waiting
Across the Aegean Sea;
Shrapnel and high explosives,
Shells and hells for me.

Oh Hell of ships and cities,
Hell of men like me,
Fatal second Helen,
Why must I follow thee?

Achilles came to Troyland
And I to Chersonese;
He turned from wrath to battle,
And I from three days’ peace.

Was it so hard, Achilles,
So very hard to die?
Thou knowest, and I know not;
So much the happier am I.

I will go back this morning
From Imbros o’er the sea.
Stand in the trench, Achilles,
Flame-capped, and shout for me.

—Stand in the Trench, Achilles by Patrick Shaw-Stewart (via axelkacoutie)

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