A few days ago I was listening to a CD with songs from the Antwerps Liedboek (Antwerp Songbook) of 1544. One of the songs is called "Vanden storm van Munster", and it tells the story of the siege of Münster and the end of the Anabaptist "Kingdom" there in 1535. As I was listening to the song, I suddenly saw myself as a fair-haired, 17-year-old boy behind a makeshift barricade on the marketplace in Münster. There was some rubble to my right and a dark-haired, bearded man in a kind of dark robe to my right, and there were about 50 to 60 people behind that barricade with me. The attackers, Dutch mercenaries commanded by the former Bishop of Münster, were somewhere in front of us; I couldn't see them in that flashback, but I knew they were there. There were stone splinters flying all around because the besiegers fired cannon into the city, and one of these splinters must have hit me - I suddenly felt a sharp, hot pain above and in my right eye. The pain and shock was too much for me, it seems, because I suddenly started screaming and throwing stones at the attackers. The next thing I remember was being held from behind by the dark-haired man, who kept saying "It's alright, boy...it's alright". I think I had stopped screaming but was still struggling. Then everything goes black for a while, and I find myself lying on my back in a grassy field that feels slightly wet, as if it had rained a short while before. Someone is holding me down while someone else washes my face and my eye - one of them must be the dark-haired man because I can hear his voice. I realize that I must have lost my right eye because it hurts so much, and the dark-haired man sounds concerned. But I lose consciousness again, and the next time I wake up I'm lying in a two-wheeled cart with straw in the bottom, together with four or five others who are so badly injured that they're unable to walk. I have quite a high fever, and my eye and cheekbone hurt terribly. The thin blanket or old cloak I've been given isn't warm enough by far, but I'm too miserable to care. In fact, I wish I had died with the others... I thought about that flashback for a long time (it was very intense, and my eye hurt for two days afterwards), and when I did that, one thought suddenly flashed through my mind: The dark-haired man must have been Heinrich Krechting, brother of one of the Anabaptist leaders! He and a handful of men made a desperate attempt to fight off the attackers when the city was stormed, and because of that and because he had known him well, the Bishop of Münster let Krechting and some of those that were with him go free. I must have been one of them, one of the lucky few that survived the massacre... Sorry for the length; will post more memories and a few pictures later, when I have more time! If anyone else also has memories from that period, I'd love to hear about them! It would be interesting to compare notes!