Grace's homecoming was a huge load off her shoulders. During those few weeks in Belgium she had gone through a host of new experiences and emotions, totally alien to her life so far. Death, destruction, appalling human suffering. She had been gripped at times by overwhelming terror, She had found the courage to face periods of dread and fear. She had been filled, too, with a fierce pride whenever she saw her own countrymen at war.

Back again in England, she allowed herself the luxury of reuniting with family and friends. There had been times in the past weeks when she thought she would never see them again. But, for all her joy at seeing her loved ones again, she was dominated by one ambition, reinforced more strongly than ever now, and that was to get back to Belgium, this time with her FANY comrades. Back to the War. No time for reflection. She knew instinctively that this was her destiny. There was no stopping her. She would do it.

She was no fool. Reflecting on her recent adventures, she realized that her best, possibly her only, chance of getting the necessary permits for her group reasonably soon, was to get hold of a Motor Ambulance.

With the help of her younger brother Billy, she persuaded her guardian, on a flying visit to Aberdeen, to advance the money to her, while she sold some shares to cover it. Then it was back to London where Billy knew of a firm of coachbuilders in Earls Court - Brown, Hughes and Strachan. The latter partner was an Aberdonian, and there was an instant empathy between the three, Grace, Billy and Strachan. Through him, Grace purchased a Unic chassis, on which the firm would build an ambulance body as a priority.

In the last few weeks Grace had learned a lot about ambulances at first hand, and put a few of her own ideas forward. She asked Strachan how long it would take, and he jokingly answered "about a week".

"That's absolutely topping" said Grace, "Bill and I will be popping in to see how it's going."

Protests were unavailing, Strachan had said 'a week' and he soon recognized a fellow-Aberdonian's mind-set.

Luckily for Grace, her prime aim of getting the first FANY contingent across the Channel, was enthusiastically shared by 'Boss' Franklin, who was much better suited to the detailed preparation of kit and supplies, so essential to the success of the mission. This left Grace free to oversee the operation as a whole, and spend a lot of time at the coachbuilders' urging them on to greater efforts.

In this she was much helped by Billy, impatiently awaiting his call to the Colours. By the time he had got home from Rhodesia, tens of thousands of volunteers had rushed to join up, and there was a huge man-power log jam while the Army struggled to cope with the sudden influx. Frustrating though the delay was to Billy, it did leave him time to watch over the work going on the new ambulance.

True to his word, although part spoken in jest at the time, Strachan had the ambulance built, checked and ready to go within the promised week, quite an achievement. Grace was, of course, absolutely delighted. This really was a trump card to have in her hand. She wasted no time, Unperturbed by the earlier rejection of 'Boss' Franklin's offer of the FANY to Sir Arthur Sloggett, she badgered the authorities until she got an interview with Sir Alfred Keogh, Director General of the Army Medical Services, when she was able to inform him triumphantly that not only did she have a trained team ready and waiting to go, but a brand new, fully equipped motor ambulance into the bargain. Keogh was extremely sceptical at the idea that Grace had been able to obtain an ambulance sooner than the Army was able to get them.

However, when he realized that she actually had an ambulance, he relented slightly, and arranged for her to see Sir Arthur Stanley, Head of the Red Cross, who turned out to be on their side, and issued the necessary permits for the Ambulance and it's FANY contingent to cross to France on the official Red Cross yacht in service at the time.

This was a fantastic break-through at last for Grace, just what she had been striving for. She raced back to the HQ at 192 Earl's Court Road, and broke the news to 'Boss' Franklin and the others, who were equally excited. Within a matter of hours they were ready to go.

This first 'convoy' was 12 strong – among them FANY names that recur again and again in the annals of the Corps' history – Grace Ashley-Smith, 'Boss' Franklin, Molly Marshall (later to win the Military Medal ), the indomitable Sister Isobel Wicks, Edith Walton, and Violet O'Neill Power. Grace's brother Bill, still waiting his papers, drove the Ambulance, the only male ever to be enrolled as a FANY! Also in that first contingent were three trained nurses, paid for by the Corps, and two male dressers, a Mr Bretton, and Eric Hickson, a young medical student.

The group made its way to Folkestone, and spent the night in the Waiting Room on the dockside. The next day, there was the inevitable delay. Wounded were flowing in from the battlefields of France and Belgium, and, never one to miss an opportunity, Grace approached the RAMC Colonel responsible for the transfer of the patients from waiting areas to ambulances, and offered the help of her girls.

Here she herself came up against the infuriating condescension, that other women offering their help had come up against from members of the Establishment. "Dear ladies" waffled the Colonel, insufferably patronizing, " do they think their soft white hands can carry a stretcher?" A colleague is quoted as remembering that Grace turned 'white with anger', and retorted that her girls had been fully trained by RAMC Sergeants, and were completely capable of doing the job properly. In the face of this female fury, the Colonel backed down, and subsequently had the grace to apologise, thanking them for their hard work.

Later that day, the 27^th October 1914, Grace took the first FANY Convoy across the Channel, and into a war zone. The date, a memorable one in the annals of the Corps, is remembered and celebrated every year with a reunion lunch, at which ex-FANYs, and those still serving, meet and remember old times and places and friends. It marked the start of the first 100 years of dedicated service in both war and peace.

Perhaps the proudest, most satisfying moment for Grace in all her service with the Corps during World War 1, was leading her tiny group of high-spirited, well bred young ladies to war, who, in typical, self-deprecating manner, referred to themselves as 'The Band of Hope'. Grace wrote later of her feelings at this time. "Away I went, light-hearted, taking with me willingly the responsibility of eleven other beings. Wise counsels of parents, the cautious teachings of friends, were listened to and lightly disregarded."

It summed up her mood perfectly. The fact that her 'eleven other beings' had not undergone her traumatic experiences of the last few weeks , and had no inkling of the scenes of horror they would soon be involved in, was never considered. She had absolute faith in their strength of character, their dedication, a faith well-founded as it turned out. They met every situation head-on, with courage and humour. They coped. So much so, as hundreds more crossed to "that troubled land", their willingness to tackle any task combined with their high spirits became a byword with all who worked with them in the three armies.

On their arrival in Calais there was no time to relax, or become acclimatized to conditions there. Less than 50 miles away the First Battle of Ypres was in full swing, and casualties were already pouring into the town in thousands, to be evacuated as quickly as possible either further down the coast, or across the Channel to England in a motley collection of converted hospital ships.

In no time at all they were engaged in ferrying wounded men from temporary Aid Posts on the dockside to either buses or ships. There was no let up, the work went on day and night. It was late October, the day after their arrival, remembered, and vividly documented by Grace.

She writes, with great feeling: "Storms of rain and wind, cold and wet and cheerless, swept the town. Calais the cruel, the pitiless, along whose quays one never-to-be-forgotten night, rows of wounded lay in the darkness and the cold, and the rain." It paints an appalling picture of the dreadful conditions the wounded had to endure through lack of foresight and preparation, and the sheer volume of wounded pouring in.