At the end of December 1914, the 3rd Chasseurs along with 5th Infantry Division moved to another section of the line, and the Oostkirke R.A.P. was no more.
But already Grace, in her indefatigable way, had forged further links with the Belgian Medical authorities, and committed the Corps to opening and running a Convalescent Home for Les Typhiques from Lamarck when they had got over the disease itself.
Typical of Grace, given as she was to the foolhardy habit of jumping in where angels would think twice about the consequences, she gave little or no thought to details such as staffing, equipment, finance, or even telling her HQ what she was up to. This was the first of a number of increasingly bitter clashes with the FANY Corps HQ in London as the war went on. And also, in this case, with the British Military Authority in Calais as we shall see.
It was getting close to Christmas, the Belgian Surgeon General had just completed another tour of inspection at Lamarck, and was relaxing with some of his team. Grace could tell he wasn't his normal, cheerful self.
"What is the matter, Mon General?" she asked. "Why the long face?"
He frowned, and glanced at his deputy, a senior Colonel.
"Mademoiselle" he replied, "we can find no place for the typhoid patients who are past the worst, and we must make room for others who will arrive."
"Ah, Mon General" said Grace, half in jest: "I will find you a place!"
He and the Colonel laughed. "Thank you, Mademoiselle. Then you can succeed where we fail?"
"You shall have your Convalescent Home as a gift to the Belgians from the FANY!" Grace retorted.
And there it was, a commitment, spoken half in jest, just as Mr Strachan at the Earls Court garage had promised an ambulance in one week. She felt just as duty bound to make good; and was full of confidence. She described her feelings in her wartime memoirs, in her own sometimes slightly garbled way: "When the need is great, there is always a way if you can find it."
She got together with Billy, her brother, and Bond, one of the early FANY drivers and close friend, and discussed the situation. Next morning they drove out along the coast looking for likely places. At Sanguette they stopped at a small hotel which was up for offer, but the owner was away in Paris, and there was little they could do in the meantime.
Then Billy remembered a Chateau, a bit off the main road to Boulogne, where some Belgian troops were billeted, and the three jumped back into the Unic and sped off. Time was of the essence.
Leaving the car at the gates of the Chateau, and resorting to direct bluffing, Grace swept into the impressive main hall, which the Belgians were using as an orderly room, a rather startled Major in charge. Grace beckoned him to her with an imperious gesture, no doubt something she had learned in her days of amateur dramatics.
She informed him brusquely that they were nurses – "English nurses" – in the service of the Belgian Army, and needed the Chateau for Belgian soldiers convalescing after hospitalization in Calais. Giving him no time to digest this, she went on to ask him just how soon he could arrange alternative accommodation for his men.
All he could do was to gasp out that HE needed the Chateau for his men, that only three rooms were allocated to them by the owner, and added that the place was cold and damp, and totally unsuitable for sick men.
He then took Grace and the others on a tour of inspection, and it wasn't at all what Grace had hoped for. The Major accompanied them down the drive, where they parted amicably, Grace making the point before she drove off, that: "If we find nothing better we shall return. Monsieur would not let the sick suffer for want of the chateau, I am sure."
As they stood chatting at the gates Grace spotted an elderly priest nearby. On a sudden impulse she approached him, asking if he was by any chance the cure of the village.
Not only was he the cure, but he replied in perfect English. It turned out that his mother was Irish, his father French. From the start they got on like a house on fire. It turned out that in his village of St. Inglebert, they had a Church Hall he thought might be suitable for up to 25 convalescents.
Climbing into the Unic, they all drove off to the Church Hall where they talked drainage, accommodation in detail, took a good look round the whole premises, then gratefully accepted the Priest's offer. They drove back to Calais in a much happier mood. The major obstacle had been cleared, finding a home for les invalides. Obviously there were more hurdles ahead, that might even be more difficult, but as usual, Grace was fired by irresistible enthusiasm, convinced that was enough to carry her through. It always had, and she saw no reason to doubt that it would now. Problems were there to be overcome.
However, as she wrote up her diary that night, she faced up to the fact that equipping the Home with beds, blankets and bed-lined was going to be a very different kettle of fish. She had virtually promised 'mon General' that all would be ready by the New Year. Not just the FANY honour was at stake, as she saw it, but that of England, too. She could never allow that be jeopardized. Her mind in a turmoil, she finally slept.
The next few days she spent organising and leading a team cleaning out the new Convalescent Home, with the help of a couple of FANYs, along with local volunteers, dragooned by the Cure.
Satisfied that that part of her project was in the capable hands of the Cure, Grace headed for England just days before Christmas, to raise funds and contributions towards the equipping and furnishing of the Home. It was probably the most hectic Christmas 'shopping spree Grace would ever undertake, and also the most successful and satisfying. Not only did she manage a flying visit to Aberdeen, where she raised considerable contributions for the Home, but was able to spend some time with her mother. On her return to London she proceeded to shamelessly exploit any and all connections she had forged in the past with high ranking officials of the Establishment.
Her first targets were Sir Arthur Slogget, Chief Commissioner of the British Red Cross : "the kindest and cheeriest of Directors-General" she called him, and Mr – later Sir – Arthur Stanley: "the most broadminded and generous of men", both of whom responded magnificently. Twenty five sprung bedsteads, along with mattresses and bedding, were immediately despatched to Calais for the typhoid sufferers in the wards of Lamarck.
Another major problem was solved. FANY HQ, though not at all happy at the way Grace had conducted the whole operation, - out of the blue committing them to finding money to support this new venture, asking nobody's permission or opinion, - rallied round as ever for the good of the Corps, and provided what funds they could spare, and a lot of donated 'comforts' for the Convalescent Home.
After three of days of furious activity, Grace headed back to Calais, well satisfied with what she had achieved. One of the FANY Corps' great strengths was its independence from other organizations. When they felt it was necessary they could strike hard and fast, not waiting for permits, decisions, agreements from above. It was just this independence of movement that so exasperated the Establishment, and led to bitter confrontations from time to time; later on, between Grace and the Treasurer and the Secretary of FANY HQ as well!
Also, it may be said, this freedom was exploited from time to time by that very same Establishment, when they found themselves in difficult situations. As will be seen, the employment of FANY drivers by a British Base Hospital in Calais, to get them out of a hole, without reference to higher authority, played a large part in the eventual – and grudging - employment of the Corps by the British Army in 1916.
Back in Calais things were in full swing to make Christmas and New Year a very special time for their patients. Grace loved this time of the year, and all the FANYs, from Boss Franklin, down to the latest arrival from England, were infused with the festive spirit. Lamarck hospital was transformed. Despite her recent whirlwind trip to England, Grace was in the midst of all the activities.
Christmas trees were obtained with some difficulty, enough for most wards. Christmas Eve was a hive of activity. Candles and ornaments were used to decorate the trees, and, as Grace wrote: "At midnight we went softly round each ward and placed a complete outfit of new clothes ( i.e. shirt, vest, pants, socks, scarf, mittens and handkerchief ) by each man's bed. Every bed was full, and we had two extra."
The Surgeon-General was invited for Christmas Day, and was presented with a small lucky piggy off the tree. "Tears came to the dear old man's eyes. " It wasn't only the General, though, everybody received a gift of some sort, as well as the bundles of new clothes.
These young, cheerful girls of the FANY were a magnet for many units around. On Christmas night the hospital filled up with visitors. There were officers from many surrounding units, doctors also, an English naval officer from somewhere.
"What a spread we had, too" Grace remembered, "cakes and shortbread and sweets! We dragged the piano to the top of the stairs; and how the men loved the songs and the choruses."
It was a truly Allied event, English, French and Belgian officers and doctors all made welcome. After tea was finished about 7 o/clock, an English Tommy came along to sing to the patients, to settle them down, going round all the different wards.
This was followed by dinner in the kitchen for the doctors, orderlies and nurses, including, of course, all the FANYs who had worked so hard. "For this very special event" wrote Grace, "we had plum pudding and turkey!" Then, as most had been up at 6 in the morning for early service in the hospital Chapel, they were happy to go off to their beds about 11 o/clock. So passed their first wartime Christmas in France.