There seemed to be no end to the carnage. Month after month from that first hammer blow against the British at the end of March, the Germans attacked. April, May, June and early July saw massive offensives launched desperately at different sections of the Allied lines. Each sortis achieved initial success, and though all were finally held it was at dreadful cost. It was a crucial moment in our history, and the time chosen by Field Marshall Haig to issue his 'backs to the wall, fight to the last man' order.

Wherever the FANY operated they were faced time and again with hospital evacuations, patients rushed from place to place. In Calais itself, sick and wounded continued to pour in by the thousand. But slowly the mood was changing. Every enemy effort had been blunted and held. Realization was dawning, difficult to accept at first, that the tide was turning.

The Americans – who had declared war on Germany in April 1917 – had still taken very little part in the conflict. But the sheer numbers of them pouring into France, almost 2 million, and the huge industrial capacity of the USA, gave everybody renewed hope and confidence. At long last a faint light had appeared at the end of the long, dreary tunnel.

At the same time, a different emotion manifested itself among our two European Allies. Belgian and French resentment grew suddenly among their higher ranks at the parties and impromptu dances that had become such a feature of out-of-the-line and off duty activities in the makeshift British Officers' Messes.

The FANY, too, were delighted to seize any opportunity to dance and laugh and unwind. They worked long hours often under awful conditions, and it was their way of relaxing. Back home their lives revolved around parties, dinners and dances. They were natural-born hostesses and 'mixers'. Wherever they were in France their Messes became a beacon of hospitality in the black darkness of war.

Pressure was put upon Grace by local French and Belgian commanders to stop the merrymaking and dancing. "If half of your country was occupied by the enemy" was the case they made. "would you be behaving like this?"

It put Grace in a very awkward position. Throughout her time with the FANY she had encouraged everything like that, seeing it as a great morale-booster for her girls. In "Five Years with the Allies" she explained her quandary and how she dealt with it. Once again she was able to draw on her occasional gift for diplomacy, when it was needed. "I explained to the Belgian General my position and that the girls could not see why they should not dance. I told him I understood and sympathised with the French and Belgian point of view, but the girls were hard workers and keen as nails on their jobs and dancing freshened them up!"

Nothing further was said, and Grace never mentioned it again.

There were more pressing things happening, wiping away thoughts of that nature. The light at the end of the tunnel was bigger and brighter. The tide had really turned.

At the end of July the French launched a massive counter attack at Compeigne, and on 8^th August the British did the same east of Amiens. It was the start of the road to peace, but every inch of it would be hard fought, all the way.

Back in Calais, Grace had much to cope with herself. Air raids on the port were almost a nightly occurrence, but 4^th August saw a brief respite. A service was held in the Cathedral to mark the start of the war, four long years before. It was packed with troops of all nationalities. Grace wrote "I used to love the Te Deum. Not merely from the religious point of view, but for the music & the great building filled with all these men in uniform of all countries."

In a moment of introspection, she went on "I was proud of being a solitary woman among these rows of Generals and Colonels. I hated it at first from sheer shyness [which doesn't sound like Grace] "but afterwards loved it as a tribute to the FANY" [which is more in character].

The following day casualty loads were larger. With only two ambulances in service, 70 wounded had to be transferred to another hospital at Geumps. This meant long hours driving back and forth, helping to load and unload the patients

The Germans kept up their pressure on the Channel Ports. Air raids were frequent, the bombing heavy. Aeroplanes had advanced considerably since 1914, and were keen to prove their mettle.

Grace goes into some detail describing a week soon after that Cathedral service. It was nothing special, just fairly typical of what went on, but gives an indication of how the FANYs coped.

On Sunday 11^th August Grace became heavily engaged in the series of raids that lay ahead, She recorded it almost as ' A Week in the Life of a FANY in Calais' at that time.

That Sunday night, a major strike set three large depots on fire. "What a ghastly night it was" she wrote "Ten cars out all night." Between them they picked up dozens of dead and wounded – English, French and Belgian soldiers – taking them to hospitals, Aid Centres or mortuaries as necessary.

A submarine base was hit, and many civilian workers, too, had to be tended to and transported to suitable medical centres.

A large French military hospital in rue Leveux was badly damaged. The elderly Chief Medical Officer, a Monsieur Flambert, popular with all the FANYs, was killed as he stepped out of his dugout. Grace knew him well, and by coincidence had just arrived at the hospital gates with an ambulance full of wounded, when the bomb fell. "The crash was tremendous" she remembers. They had no idea what had happened inside. "We rang & rang the bell & kicked the doors and at last took the wounded elsewhere."

Later that night the British Base Commandant came to ask for the help of the Unit's cars, but they were all out already. The English depot had been bombed, and according to Grace, was a 'complete shambles'. "Our boots were drenched with blood" she adds.

That whole dreadful; night took on a surreal air. "At 4 a.m. we sat on a bench outside the Mess and watched the flames raging in the wood yard. It was a curious sight, and over our heads wheeled flocks of birds, white in the reflected glow and uttering shrill cries. Once in the flaming sky we saw a German 'plane with all the searchlights chasing it, and we could have sworn we saw a black thing fall from it. We thought it was a parachute, but it may have been merely our excitement."

It must have been an incredible sight, illustrating so clearly the huge leap these girls had made voluntarily, from comfortable, affluent drawing rooms back home, to sitting on a bench amid raging fires, in war torn Calais, 'boots drenched in blood'; this blessed relaxation from hours of driving, saving lives, rescuing wounded soldiers and civilians alike. The feeling of relief, satisfaction, can be imagined, and above all, the great awareness of comradeship which had developed among these young ladies, binding them together for ever. Grace herself revelled in it.

Later that day the girls were able to take stock, and note the date, August 12, open day for grouse shooting. In normal times many of these girls would be elegantly presented guests or hostesses at great country estates in Scotland. But this was war and, instead, they themselves were under fire in drab uniforms, weary from long hours of toil, far removed from the familiar scenes of home.

That night the bombers returned. 4.30 a.m. and two cars were sent to Boulevard Gambetta to pick up casualties. 5.15 and Grace went with a British Army truck to an underground hospital, to collect a shell-shocked soldier, because the driver didn't know the way. 6 o'clock, Grace and O'Neill off to partly re-opened Leveux Hospital with French civilian wounded.

8 o'clock, and Grace offered the hospital 2 cars to replace their damaged ones. The offer gratefully accepted, and Maples and Moses took over duty there. They had been up all night, but remained on duty until 6 that evening.

During that afternoon a trainload of 180 wounded arrived. As usual, the FANY were ready and waiting, transferring them to hospitals, boats and trains. Hour after hour of helping, lifting, carrying.

7 p.m. and Moses sent to Gravelines to pick up 2 more patients and bring them back to Calas.

Then – "that night we slept!"

There was a sense of heartfelt relief in those few brief words.

It didn't last.

Next morning it was "early evacuation as usual at 5 a.m." Bond and Barron on duty all day, other cars called out as required. No let up. Back to reality. Again!

On that Tuesday Grace received a letter of thanks from the Calais Governor, General Ditte, for the bravery of the FANY drivers. He began with "les plus grande services" over the years they had been operating there. He went on: "Day and night they maintained with tireless devotion the movement of wounded Belgian, English and French soldiers. Their good sense, like their calm, was always much admired by everyone.' There was much more.

This was just one of many such eulogies delivered by French and Belgian dignitaries and Brasshats. While appreciating the intent, the girls tended to receive the flowery phrases with amused embarrassment.

After passing the letter on to her FANYs, it was back to work, little or no time to think about it. The week was moving on. 5 a.m. Thursday morning, more evacuations, but fewer today, only 2 cars needed.

A short time later, though, a trainload of 140 casualties arrived, and it was once again all hands to the pumps! The large hospital at Port de Gravelines had been bombed. Again. This time 5 killed, 15 wounded. "The mad officer" Grace writes "who couldn't get on the train the night before this, and his 3 orderlies, were killed." That night still more bombs fell on Calais.

With her FANYs constantly out during these frantic air raids, Grace always worried about them. All of them, whatever their convoy, whichever the hospital.

"I was haunted day and night" she wrote "by the thought of any of the girls getting killed. I felt terribly the burden of responsibility." The pressures and stresses of her role were getting to her.

Friday, the week drawing to a close, and the funeral of the Medecin Chef , Chief Medical Officer in Calais, killed a few days earlier at Leveux Hospital. In Grace's words, he was "given an immense funeral". The wreath presented by the FANY Corps was given pride of place. "A kindly thought of the French to show the appreciation of our work."

Funerals or not, work was always waiting. Four wounded French soldiers on stretchers needed immediate transfer. Grace herself, with an old FANY friend, Bond, were available and delivered the patients to the new centre, in the brand new GMC Ambulance presented to the FANY by the City of Aberdeen. This was something that made Grace really proud.

And so it went on, days and nights of hazardous duties for them all. Just another average week amid years of suffering. But now there was a new spirit of hope and anticipation spreading through the Allied Forces, as they battled their way steadily onwards, gradually pushing back the enemy.

The long darks days of stagnation were over. With her comrades in the English and French convoys, Grace hoped she would soon be on the road to victory with her Belgian convoy. As she herself had said, "I had shared their retreat and struggle, and longed to be with them in their hour of triumph."

She would not have much longer to wait. Her hour of triumph was waiting, but some dreadful times lay ahead, that would stretch both Grace and her girls to the limits of their endurance.