For so much of this period the war was chaotic and disorganized. It was still largely a war of movement; the era of set lines of trenches had not yet begun, communications were erratic and unreliable. Much of the medical services was provided by men and women like Grace, a FANY, with no official attachment to a particular Army. Other volunteer services St John's Ambulance, or the Scottish Ambulance Service, for instance, were all doing what they could. Even privately owned ambulances driven or operated by the owner, like the one Grace had been attached to for some days.

This was just another instance of the confusion and lack of cohesion in those early days. Some of the group of Belgians they met had retained their rifles and equipment, others in the group had thrown them away. Troops were split up, totally disoriented. Grace was slowly coming to terms with this, and beginning to understand just what these men had been through. Time and again she was hearing the same story, from different allies, Belgian and British. "The guns. We had no guns. What could we do?" The men were referring to the big guns, the artillery, with which the German Army was plentifully provided, but in those early days the Allies had nothing comparable.

This little party of disorganised Belgians had the same tale, the same lament. In the midst of it all, four wounded men staggered in to join them. Grace got them loaded into the ambulance, and, now full, it headed back to base Aid Posts and Hospitals.

On yet another occasion, and underlining the general disorder of things, on a road to the Chateau de Tragenham, they came across an English Doctor in a 'shell proof' dugout, fully equipped and ready to deal with any casualties, and very confident, but with no patients. He was also very surprised to see possible back-up from motor ambulances. The following day, when Grace passed that way again, the Doctor was gone, along with all his supplies and equipment, his dugout empty. Just another unsolved mystery.

Back in Vieux Dieu, deserted a couple of days before, British soldiers and Marines were busy digging trenches and preparing defences, aimed at blocking the road to Boucherout, the expected route of any attack. The ambulance driver asked Grace if she was afraid to go any further. She told them there was no question of fear, only wounded. They drove on, leaving behind the safety of the khaki figures. Crouched in the car, Grace prayed, then scribbled her mother's name and address on a piece of paper, which she thrust into a pocket. She felt better.

At Boucherout all was destruction and desolation. Churches, houses reduced to so much rubble. Dead horses lay around, polluting the air with the sickening stench of decaying flesh.

Then came the whiz – whiz - whiz of shrapnel nearby, the shriek of shells, explosions, and close by the crash of falling masonry. Having raced to take cover before the explosion, the tension broke, and there was a concerted rush back to the ambulance. Grace was becoming quite used to this by now, learning quickly in those conditions. She recorded in her memoirs, - "the chauffeur broke all speed records on that return trip!" They all were happy to get back inside the barriers on the edge of Vieux Dieu erected by the English soldiers and Marines, with only inches to spare as they sped through the sandbagged entranceway.

Once safely inside, Grace reported to the Medical Officer there, and he took her to see his 'hospital' in the fort, stone cellars, earth piled all around outside walls to lessen the impact of shells. He had no dressings – they had been forgotten in all the panic and confusion, so Grace sent her ambulance back into Antwerp, with a 'chit' for the Belgian Red Cross. She also entrusted her driver with what money she had, with instructions to buy white bread, butter and cheese.

With little else to do, she was offered a sandbag to sit on and watch the 'fortifications' going up. Never a fan of red tape, Grace had always imagined it to be found only in Ministry Buildings, or the Civil Service sanctums. She certainly didn't expect to find it here, almost on the front line. She was to learn differently! Sitting there, she noticed two tall, stone, tower-like structures, reared up over the main barriers. She mentioned them to one of the English officers supervising the operation. Naively stating the obvious, Grace told him, "If they were to be hit by a shell, surely they would crash down on the barrier trenches, killing anyone in them? Couldn't they be knocked down?"

Quite naturally under the circumstances, the officer exploded in frustrated wrath. "We have been asking all day to have these houses taken down, and we can't. Why not? It's all red tape; a fussy old staff officer came along and said they were not to be touched!" She felt so sorry for him.

Shortly after that, she was to experience another example of red tape at work, putting men's lives at risk. One strategically important section of the trenches being dug on the outskirts of Vieux Dieu got special treatment. The men slaved over covering the section with heavy wooden beams, covered over with a thick layer of earth, making them safe from anything other than a direct hit. It had taken them a long time, and much effort.

Then to everyone's dismay, the same 'fussy little Staff Officer', who had to be obeyed, came along and ordered the officer in charge to have all the covering removed immediately. The reason? The Instruction Manual decreed that all supports were to be iron, not wood, in case of fire. He listened to no arguments or pleas. All the protective roofing must be removed. At once. And he strutted off self-importantly to his Staff Car and drove off. Of course, there was no suitable iron available, the coverings had to come off, leaving the men, and the defences dangerously exposed. Just one more burden heaped on the shoulders of the front-line fighting men, already battling against great odds under dreadful conditions. Grace wrote in Nursing Adventures "My heart ached for them. The men were disheartened and furious, and many a curse fell on that Staff Officer's head, and personally I think he deserved them!"