Today marks the 100th Anniversary of the date
on which Britain declared war on Germany, the war which was to become known as “The
Great War.” It is estimated that during the
course of WWI over 16 million people lost their lives and some 20 million were
wounded. It is hard to comprehend the
terrible suffering which touched the lives of countless families in many
nations.
Of course, the vast numbers who were involved in the
First World War were made up of individuals. I heard recently about a
remarkable incident involving Bombadier George Hever
Vinall, a WWI soldier. The
following are the words of a letter which he subsequently wrote home to explain
what had happened:
Dear Mother and
Father,
I am sending in a
parcel, my pocket Bible and three shrapnel bullets, of which the following is
the story. Last Thursday, just before
one midday, I returned to my sleeping apartment and threw off my tunic and
respirator, laid my bundle of kit down for a pillow and intended having a
little rest.
I was looking round
for something to read when I saw a friend coming along so I went round to the
door to speak to him. Just as I went to
the door a shell exploded somewhere in the grounds and Gibson (who sleeps next
to me) started off to the horse lines thinking there might be trouble there.
He had hardly gone
when we heard another coming and immediately got down flat on the floor behind
the brick pillar, a sprinkling of dust and wood splinters fell round us as the
shell burst outside. That was enough for
us. We got up and ran for a trench nearby and as soon as we heard the next
coming we flattened ourselves at the bottom, not troubling about the dirt so
long as we could get under cover and so we remained until it was over.
When I returned for
my tunic and respirator, we discovered that about a dozen men had been wounded,
two of whom subsequently died. As far as
we could trace, four bullets came in, one being embedded in my kit where my
head would have been but for the arrival of my friend. Another was on the floor
where I would have been lying. The third was in the pocket of my tunic having
been stopped by my Bible, as you can see, and the fourth went through Gibson’s
mackintosh which was hung up in the compartment next to mine, where he would
have been had he not started off a few seconds before for the horse lines.
So you see our
escape was only a matter of seconds. How quickly I have had to prove the truth
of what I said in my last letter, ‘safe in the hands’ and yet such is the case
that I am here without a scratch, safe and well. The eighth verse of Isaiah 49, where the
bullet stopped, contains these words which caught my eye directly I saw it, ‘I
will preserve thee’. May his be true of future days until I see you all again
is my heartfelt prayer.
Your loving son,
George
A poignant account, and one which obviously touched the
young man profoundly. To be a follower of Jesus is not an insurance policy
which will always protect us from bad things happening, but we are promised
that whatever happens, God is with us.
