Dolch 96
DOLCH 96. (See also, GERMAN FIREARMS, PISTOL) Of the Dolch 96, Winston Churchill has said: "[I] was the best thing in the world."A semi-automatic, top-loading pistol produced by the German manufacturer of the same name, the Dolch 96 was favored by the military because of its powerful ammunition.
The shape of the Dolch's stock earned it the nickname "broom handle,"and it was effective at "sweeping"an area of enemies with the 10 high-velocity rounds held within the magazine. However, the box cannon variation model of the Dolch 96 is generally preferred as the addition of a holster and shoulder stock increases safety and ease of use.
Journal of William Salter
Severe water damage, reconstructed by archivist
Unlined paper, 3x5 in.
6/10
jul.? 1895
Black outs more frequent. Memory unreliable. Came to today in the midst of a horrific act. Have become hardened to violence, but feelings of fear and shame return to me in the remembering tenfold. I make my confession here, on these pages, and pray that God finds me here. Perhaps He has not given up on me yet.
I awoke astride a man, knife in hand, stabbing, stabbing, stabbing, unable to stop. I wept and yet I could not stop. There was a sound in my head as of a storm. I felt horror. I felt powerful. At peace. And then shackled with guilt at my own response. And still 1 did not stop my hand from driving the knife again and again into his chest, crunching through the brittle bone blanketed in ragged strips of skin. I drove the knife into him until the corpse upon which I sat was little more than a damp puddle, a heap of slippery wet matter. The smell was overpowering. Iwill surely go to hell. What does it matter? I am already there.
Journal of William Salter
Severe water damage, reconstructed by archivist
Unlined paper, 3x5 in.
7/10
Nighttime, she walked straight into my cabin. She the fly. I the spider. A surprise guest! Hahaha. Her name is Mary. An older woman, not suitable to fight, but I found another use for her. I feel as if I know her. She seemed disoriented, and I pretended cordiality, offering tea. She seemed nervous, but sat down at the little table, and I heated some water and poured it over a handful of swamp grass. She didn't seem to notice and sat silently sipping the vile liquid as if in a dream. I had her tied up in the chair faster than a squirrel up a tree. She did not resist. My knife was polished up so the first thing I did was test out the blade. She bleeds profusely. I must find a way to staunch the flow, I am not ready to let her die. I must consult the medical book. Perhaps I can keep her alive a few days longer.
Anything to take my mind off. Pored over the Roebuck. Cheery ads and nice pictures of every gun you could want. All so clean, in the picture. Blood splatter on it now. Makes it look like my Dolch, leaning over there in the corner. Rusty and broken. Did Papa have one? No, probably not. Used to shoot rabbits off the porch, they got at the crops. Didn't have no crops. Just pigs. I could get him one for his birthday.
