On August 4th 1914 Grace was on her way to South Africa to visit her sister Caroline who was married to a South African doctor, when she heard that war had been declared.
She had made the decision to visit, full of faith in her FANYs, as she always thought of them, confident they were in very good shape, ready for anything. She was still on a high and glowing with pride that she and the FANY Corps had been accepted by the Brigade of Guards at the Pirbright Camp, and invited to join with them at the Guards' Church Parade. She had absolute confidence in 'Boss' Franklin who was as dedicated to the FANY as she was.
Now, aboard the Guildford Castle, her reaction to the news of war was typical, earning a stern rebuke from the Captain. She wrote in her diary, "we all stood there speechless. I was the first to speak. 'Thank God it's come now.' " Her emotions ran too strongly for her to think of explaining, as she did in her diary later, "while I'm still young enough to be in it."
The Captain swung about and faced her, anger sparking in his eyes and voice. "God forgive you for that, my girl" he growled.
But it did little to diminish her naïve delight. Like so many of her background and generation, she believed in the jingoistic idea of war – heroism, gallantry, glory. The true face of war in all its horror and devastation, broken bodies and broken hearts, was to be revealed in the four ghastly years lying ahead of her. But for now, it was her war, her FANY, and she was proud to be in both. The spirit of youth and adventure was strong in her, she couldn't wait to get home, get her girls across to Belgium and into action.
For much of her girlhood she had grown up sandwiched between her two brothers, both a bit wild and adventurous, one older, one younger. Always with Charlie and Bill she, too, became wild and adventurous, headstrong and confident.
She didn't hesitate for a moment. Within an hour of her slight brush with the Captain, she had cabled ahead to the Union Castle Line office in Cape Town, with instructions to book her on the first available ship home to England. They took her at her word; booked her onto the Edinburgh Castle, due to sail for England within hours of its sister ship's arrival at Cape Town. On arrival, Grace spent four hours on the docks organizing the transfer of her luggage from ship to ship, and was off back to England and her war.
By good fortune, one of the passengers on board was the Belgian Minister for Colonies, M. Louis Franck. Never one to pass up a good opportunity, Grace asked him about the chances of helping out in Belgium. As a teenager around 17, she had spent a year at a Belgian Convent, and spoke a fluent, though slightly fractured, French. It was enough to cement a friendship that would shortly stand her in good stead. He was in receipt of daily signals from the Belgian Government keeping him up to date with what was happening, while Grace told him about the FANY, what they could do, and offered to send the first Convoy to Belgium. There was little Louis Franck could actually do, but at least a connection had been made.
The ship called in at Gibralter to pick up a number of Civil Servants and Diplomats , and was provided with a Naval escort vessel for the remainder of the trip home. Shortly afterwards they came across an Austrian boat, suspected of mine-laying. After firing a shot across its bow, and taking all its crew aboard as prisoners, the Navy set about sinking it, with conspicuous lack of success to begin with. Watched with breathless anticipation and patriotic pride by hundreds of passengers lining the rails, it took a long time. Grace recorded in her diary later, "It (the Austrian boat) was so light they couldn't hit her below the water line at first. Then lo, the boat had gone. We who had tarried to the end and had our rewards, rushed in to dinner".
This rather callous attitude to destruction was largely born of patriotic fervour that affected everyone, no doubt coupled with the fact they were well distanced from the actual scenes of carnage. It was in stark contrast, certainly in Grace's case, with the revulsion and despair she was to experience only weeks later, when faced with the vile reality of war. She wrote in her journal, after visiting a tiny Belgian village, Holstadt, ravaged suddenly by modern war: "I looked, with an awful horror in my face. We all stood with our eyes fixed on the charred and blackened body that lay there. I had never known a human skeleton would look so small when the flesh was gone round it". This small incident was her first close contact with the ruthless reality of total war. All this and more lay ahead of her.
The Edinburgh Castle and escort made all speed back to England. Arriving near Portsmouth Grace was again to experience – and later express- the patriotic pride born of tradition, at the sight of Britain's Naval might.
"Out from Portsmouth Harbour" she recorded, "with blood-red sun behind them, came the long line of ships. Silently, majestically, they passed on either side – massive Dreadnoughts, torpedo-boat Destroyers, Battle Cruisers. We stood entranced, our throats too dry to speak. We could only watch in awed silence. The most wonderful sight I've ever seen – the British Fleet going out to war."
That was September 5th 1914. Grace herself was soon to sail into battle herself, - battle with the Establishment, the War Office, the Red Cross, - all those who during the year before had assured her of how highly the FANY were regarded, and who now turned their backs and slammed doors in their faces.