Work at Lamarck continued to be a hard, seemingly endless, slog against time, awful wounds, and the dreaded typhoid. There was an ongoing shortage of dressings, medicaments, bandages and bed linen. Grace recalls that they spent ten days on one occasion, cutting bed sheets in half, to provide enough to go around all the beds. Shirts and socks had to be washed every night, or there would not be enough to meet the needs of the next day.
The typhoid wards were the most unpleasant to work in. By the nature of the disease while the men still had the strength, there was a frightening amount of uncontrollable violence by the patients. Prior to the arrival of the FANY, the relatively few typhoid patients had been looked after by Nuns, who courageously did their best, gave great spiritual help and guidance, but were never successful, or trained, as nurses.
Grace and Franklin had their quarters at the top of the main building in Lamarck Hospital, on hand day and night. One end of their room was curtained off, for whichever two FANY Ambulance drivers were on duty, as they had to be immediately available on the premises overnight to cope with any emergency. It was hard, backbreaking work for all of them. Water was always contaminated, and had to be boiled before use. Food was in short supply, particularly milk, eggs and brandy, the latter a great tonic and morale builder among the patients. Not to mention the FANYs! But their Belgian Quartermaster "showed a wonderful energy in getting larger supplies than other hospitals could obtain."
Proper beds, too, were still desperately needed, and once again Lady Luck stepped in. The FANY's English Chaplain visited, and, wrote Grace: "a few of us dined with him at a hotel on the Quay. They were joined by the Senior Medical Officer in Calais, a Colonel Alexander, "a gallant and kind-hearted officer, who never threw us a crumb of praise when inspecting our hospital, but who made ample amends for that in his official reports." Through him, the Director General of the RAMC also paid them a visit, resulting in "the arrival of a splendid supply of spring beds, bedding, blankets, sheets etc."
Little triumphs like these helped Grace and the others to overcome the ongoing gruelling routines that they had to endure, doing much to lift their morale. It frequently needed lifting. In spite of the strict supervision of water hygiene, many of the FANYs were struck down with bad attacks of dysentery, and had to double up for each other on duty, covering for those who became ill. It got to them all at one time or another. For some it was desperately serious, for others more fortunate, a dreadful inconvenience. Grace herself wrote about her "constant dysentery", and how difficult it was 'finding places' to run to, as each emergency struck! It was not only debilitating and embarrassing, but involved everybody in extra duties and tasks.
In addition, many had infected fingers, painful and persistent, sores so easily picked up in the unsatisfactory hygiene conditions in which they were forced to work, in spite of everything. Bacterial infections were rife everywhere, affecting the smallest cut, or even through chilblains.
But above all, they were young and enthusiastic, and according to Grace's "Five Years With the Allies", tackled all the dirt and discomfort with cheerfulness and good humour. They were all volunteers, and in their own way each had a bit of the rebel in them, driven by a hidden desire to defy those oppressive social conventions imposed on girls of their upbringing, to follow a set social path.
However, being only human, inwardly they must have had doubts and fears. Grace herself probably voiced those doubts and fears they all had, when she confessed "how awful, heartbreaking and tiring this endless work was, and at times I could barely hold back my tears."
Edith Walton, one of the original 'Band of Hope', the youngest FANY at the time, and later a lifelong friend of Grace, was almost certainly right when she confessed: " we were too young really, or too inexperienced, to realize, perhaps, the seriousness of it."
Nursing the sick and wounded and coping with all the problems of poor hygiene conditions, food and equipment shortages, were only part of the life of a FANY at Lamarck. Now that the hospital was a secure base, more were arriving from England, all of them keen and eager to get into the action.
Driving Motor Ambulances had superseded riding onto battlefields on horses as their raison d'etre. Of course, when they first arrived in Calais they were called upon time and again to collect and deliver wounded to the trains, boats and various Aid Posts in the port. This was largely because of a crying need and desperate shortage of cars and drivers. Neither the French nor British Armies permitted women to drive for them in any capacity. The 'Top Brass' of both viewed the idea with horror. It took both time and commitment, but this attitude was finally overcome.
Unfortunately, when this invasion of male space actually took place, the male drivers and mechanics in situ, of both armies, took strong exception to it, and were singularly uncooperative, even going so far, in some cases, to sabotage the motors in petty ways, standing back and leaving it to the girls to put things right. To the credit of the women drivers, they generally managed to do so!
As these early weeks at Lamarck slogged by, their one ambulance, Grace's Unic, was joined by others, - two Fords and a Mors car, converted by its owner into a vehicle for 'walking wounded' rather than stretcher cases.
The history of that Mors is typical of the disorganization and laissez faire of the time. Owned by a Mr Hargreaves, too old for military service himself, he answered an advertisement in a national newspaper for drivers and ambulances to join the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry. It was only when he arrived at FANY HQ for interview that he became aware that the FANY was a womens' Corps. He was highly amused, and offered himself and his Mors to be attached to the FANY entirely at his own expense. He also paid the salaries of two hospital nurses, and for all the petrol used. Becoming known universally and affectionately among the FANYs as 'Uncle", he was a pillar of help and support for them all.
Originally, much of the driving of their one ambulance in Calais was done by Grace's brother Bill, still awaiting his call to the Colours, which came in January 1915. The arrival of the Fords and the Mors involved them in constant repetition of the original task – collecting wounded from the hospital trains and distributing them to their allocated destinations.
Here the wounded all had labels attached to them by the Train Doctors. FANY drivers would check these, and drive the men to whatever destination was indicated. Once 'booked in' it was their job to strip off tunics and any other filthy clothing, then slip on clean nightshirts, at which point hospital staff would take over, whether on land or hospital ship.
That was the comparatively easy part. Battling against the elements was the worst. Out with their ambulances in all kinds of weather, and with the insistence of Grace and Franklin on building a reputation for dependability, along with their own pride in the service they gave, the girls frequently worked through the night repairing and servicing their vehicles. As a direct consequence of their efforts, even the French were sufficiently impressed to overcome their scruples about using women drivers – so long as they weren't French!
On one occasion, for instance, desperate for more assistance at a particular area of their Front Line, they asked the FANY for help. Four of the girls drove more than 120 miles to a place called Cayene, far removed from their normal operating area, spent a whole night ferrying French wounded from the trenches to hospital, and drove back to Calais the following day.
No other military controlled unit or organization could have responded so quickly to a request between two allied armies, but the uniquely independent position of the Corps made that sort of response possible.
They didn't just cope, - they coped well.