Still more new drivers arrived from England, requested six weeks earlier to staff the new section of Unit 5, to be stationed at La Panne. Things had moved on rapidly since its conception, and now it would not be based there.

However, the extra hands and vehicles were very useful in reducing the workload in Calais, especially since the despatch of five cars and drivers to Bruges. There was a feeling of excitement in the air in the expectation of moving up shortly nearer to the Front Line.

In the meantime, when two new girls arrived, in an effort to break them in to this new environment, they were sent to Valloires to collect wounded for Couchil-de-Temple, a journey of about 340 kilometres. Alarm bells began to ring in Grace's head when they hadn't returned by 10 o'clock the next night.

Taking the old Ford and a Belgian sergeant, she set out to search for them. It was fortunate she did. Two hours later, at a level crossing, they came upon a dreadful accident in which a British soldier had just lost both his legs, and was in a parlous state. No transport, and miles from anywhere. Grace and her Sergeant leapt down and applied first aid as best they could under the circumstances. Some of the men with him knew of a Canadian Military Hospital three miles off, and Grace drove him there immediately. The doctors there rallied round, and "were splendid" Grace records. She remained for some time, and they told her they thought he would survive.

She got back to Calais about 3 a.m. leaving her search for the missing drivers till the next day, only to find they had already returned, by a different route.

The Colonel, now fully recovered from his bout of flu, had just been on a visit to Bruges. He told Grace he thought she should go up there at once to sort a few things out. The girls there were not happy "were sleeoing on stretchers on the floor, and there were no supplies to be had."

This, of course, was grist to Grace's mill. Putting McDowall in charge at Calais until Moses' return in a day or two, she took three cars and drivers and headed for Bruges. At the time she was suffering from a bout of flu herself, but "simply dared not give in at such a time of confusion." The long day in the open and her faith in her favourite jollop, Easton Syrup, which she carried with her "cured me, for by the time we reached Bruges about 7 o'clock, I felt fit again."

She had long accepted that if anything could go wrong, it would. It did. On arrival she found that one of their number, another new driver, who spoke no French, had somehow got separated, and was lost. She grabbed a cup of coffee, called for a car, and set out with Bond to find the missing driver. Eventually they did, broken down, stuck in mud, weary and worried and fed up. A passing carload of American naval officers stopped, were able to fix it, and she got to Bruges safely.

To her dismay, Grace found that morale was at a very low ebb. Their quarters were intensely cold, they didn't have enough blankets, and heating arrangements were sadly lacking. On top of that they were missing the friendly and familiar surrounding of Calais, where they had spent so much time in very comfortable, specially built housing. There was also very little work to keep them busy, take their minds off things, and give them the job satisfaction they had become used to.

Grace went into action again, and was able to sort out the accommodation problems in a very short time, but the question of work was different. It was also vital. It kept the adrenaline flowing, the excitement level high, the satisfaction of winning. She told General d'Orgo of the situation, and he promised to do what he could.

Returning to Calais on November 6^th she found herself with a lot of office work to sort out and get through. Rumours of peace abounded, and there were one or two false alarms. In fact, by the 10^th the stories were so strong, and the atmosphere so explosive, that there was a big peace celebration. Ships sounded sirens, church bells rang, trains blew their whistles, it was pandemonium. A huge bonfire was set alight in the park. Unit 3 entered into the spirit of things. Boss Franklin wrote in the FANY Gazette "British, French and Belgians, attracted by the glare, all came and sang National Anthems, cheering wildly, while Mrs McDougall and one or two of her girls came up and joined in."

Later that day Grace took five cars and headed for Bruges once again. They all congregated in a warm little café "sitting restlessly discussing the rumours that flew about, the troops under orders to advance on Ghent next day."

Seeing their khaki uniforms, strangers kept coming up to them and asking, 'Peace? Is it true?' Grace notes in her diary, "We went 'home' thoughtfully, - if it was peace? but it was late & we were tired, more tired with four years of war than we knew. We could not begin to reconstruct the world, so we slept!"

Morning brought peace!

"There was no rejoicing, a sort of startled unbelief, staring at each others' faces we could not understand the meaning of it."

Grace thought about things fast and furiously. Remembering the frantic period of four years ago, buses packed with wounded soldiers, pulling out of a dark and freezing Ghent, she knew what she had to do. The memory of it had remained with her ever since. She couldn't resist. Peace meant another sort of freedom. She must go back, would go back, right away. She selected a car, and four good friends to go with her. The excitement was infectious.

O'Neill, definitely. McDowall as driver, two others, and old Alphonse their Orderly, whose wife and children he had left in Ghent so long ago. He was wild with excitement, laughing and crying at the same time. Would his family still be there? He was desperate to find out.

They set out in the highest of spirits. The roads were crowded and unfamiliar. A mass of troops was marching towards Ghent. They moved to one side to let the car past, amid cheers and waves. Again, German signs everywhere – 'Links', 'Rechts', 'Achtung', 'nach Ghent'. This was the stuff of dreams, Grace's dreams. She waxed lyrical. "Regiment after regiment. Sturdy, war-torn little Belgians going back to your own country, to your own homes. Your exile is ended, your torment of separation is ended."

She became more thrilled when she realized some of the troops were comrades from regiments they had worked with in the dark days of 1914, "with whose doctors we served at Oostkirke, Caeskirk, Loo and Forthem. They will not forget, and nor shall we, that we stood beside their dying and their dead In the Battle of the Yser."

These were the kind of memories that stayed with her all her life, which probably helped her through the difficult years that lay ahead.

Driving into Ghent itself they met the same storm of celebrations they had witnessed in Bruges, crowds out in their thousands waving flags, cheering. It was slow progress. At one point an elderly man pushed out of the crowd, throwing himself at Grace, wreathed in smiles, grabbing her hand, kissing her cheek. "Madamoiselle" he shouted, "don't you recognize me? I carried one end of the stretcher with the dying Englishman, you had the other end, in 1914!"

Grace peered at him more closely, and recognised him behind his white beard as one of the stretcher bearers. She was thrilled to see him, even though she hadn't been too impressed at the time with his skill as a bearer.

They drove on, to the Maison St Pierre Convent where the final evacuation took place. The Nuns were delighted to welcome her again; the old Mother Superior had died, however.

Anxious to find out about the man who took her across the Frontier into Holland, Monsieur de Weert, she discovered to her dismay that he had been selected as a useful hostage, if required, and taken to Germany some months before. He had not been heard of since. She was much saddened by the news, as he was the man to whom she largely owed her freedom.

Determined to see as much as possible, Grace drove to the cemetery where Foote and Brand had been laid to rest. Rough wooden crosses were now in place to mark their graves.

The stolen day out was closing fast, they headed back to Bruges. It had been a unique experience for all of them, specially nostalgic for Grace.

The following day, she and O'Neill drove back to Calais where the Belgian Base Headquarters were to hold a farewell banquet for 300 Allied officers in the area. Grace, O'Neill and Moses would be the only ladies present.

General d'Orgo presided over the feast, General Ditte on one side, Grace on the other. The British Base Commander sat beside Ditte.

The banquet was a great success. Grace was very amused, but discreetly so, at all the flowery speeches praising one another's contribution to the struggle, and how supportive they had all been. First it was the Belgians expressing their sorrow at parting from their French and British friends and Allies. Then the French Governor saying how he would miss the departing Belgians, and thanking them for all they had done. Finally, the British Base Commander praising both the French and Belgians for their great co-operation in the past years, and acknowledging the great Entente Cordiale between them all. After which all three National Anthems were played.

The truth was that they had all been at each other's throats a great deal of the time. The French deeply suspicious of the British in every way, and continually maligning the Belgians, resenting their presence in their country. The French themselves were constantly making problems for all their Allies, objecting to almost every suggestion made; while the British got up everyone's noses with a lofty contempt for everyone not British.

The three girls derived great amusement from the speeches. And no doubt it was general amongst most of those there. Not that it mattered much then. The war was over, there was much wine at the tables, it was in great demand, everyone was in a jubilant mood, rifts were being healed.

Soon after the official speeches were ended, Grace recalls. "Both General d'Orgo and General Ditte looked at me, and said'"It is your turn, Madame, to speak' and before I could protest, General d'Orgo had rung his little bell for silence, and announced 'Madame McDougall will now speak.'"

Shaken slightly by this sudden and unexpected summons, she rose to her feet among encouraging cheers, and started off in her fluent but sometimes erratic French. She followed the general pattern of previous speakers, saying how proud she was to be going back into Belgium with her Belgian comrades, but sorry to be leaving France. Unfortunately, thinking in English and speaking in French, she made her 'howler' as she called it. Paying tribute to the French Governor of Calais for the help and support over the last four years, she added "General Ditte a ete toujours notre bon ami".

This perfectly reasonable English phrase apparently had another connotation in French, meaning lover rather than friend, which she suddenly realized to her horror. She remembers in her memoirs "I stopped dead, blushed crimson, and in a moment the room was in an uproar."

Quickly excusing herself "from more faux pas in a foreign language", she sat down, still embarrassed. Then, as the cheers and laughter subsided, the band, which had played the national anthems of each of the previous speakers, launched into Rule Britannia, and the four were presented with "wonderful bouquets of flowers." All was well.

Within a few days the Belgians had departed, and only Grace and Moses were left to close up shop. It was a dismal prospect, cold, wet weather, empty Mess full of memories, and the debris and junk of years to clear away. Out of the blue, a motor-cycle courier arrived with a message from Brussels for Grace. It read "Chere Madame, if you wish to assist in the event of which we have spoken, you must leave at once for Bruxelles. Even tonight may be too late."

Grace knew immediately what the carefully worded message meant. The King and Queen of Belgium were returning to their Capital, after their four years of self-imposed exile at La Panne.

She and Moses reacted quickly, packing a few clothes and setting off in the Unic. Stopping at a hotel in Bruges for dinner, they met up with an officer of the Guides whom they knew well. He, too, was headed for Brussels, and asked if he could travel with them. They were only too glad to agree. It was a miserable, stormy night, and "they crept into Brussels at 3 a.m."

Finding a hotel, she and Moses dropped into bed, quite exhausted, to be wakened next morning by a maid with a message from the Guides officer. He was at the Ministry of War, and had seats for them to view the Royal Parade, but they must get there fast. They did!

There were troops from all the Allies at the march past, including Italians, Portuguese and Americans. The focus of all the thousands who turned out to watch was on the King and his Queen, on horseback, side by side. Behind them rode their three children, and as a wonderful gesture of gratitude to the British, the son of our own Monarch, the young Duke of York, rode with them. The celebrations went on far into the night, Grace and Moses joining in happily. The partying went on for three days.

Grace was disappointed that the British missed a great propaganda opportunity. The Americans had large numbers of film crews with their army, recording everything that was happening. They cleverly combined the pictures of some of the actions the Americans took part in, with previously recorded film. In a very short time, 'newsreels' were made available to the few cinemas all over Belgium and France, desperate for films to show. In Brussels, Moses and Grace were invited to one such showing. She was horrified. "Picture after picture of supplies leaving America – fish, meat, butter, sugar, everything on an enormous scale. American guns, American shells, American vehicles. Then American troops in France, American regiments, American artillery, and crowning insult, British tanks – the Americans didn't have any – driven by our Army Service Corps men, and on the step of each tank an American soldier waving a little American flag."

There is no doubt in Grace's mind, they won the propaganda war.

The film ended with a shot of a small American cemetery, each grave with a Stars and Stripes flag attached to it.

When asked afterwards what she thought of it, by the cinema manager with an officer from the American film section beside him, Grace suggested there was something they had forgotten to include. "Give the people some idea of the truth. Show them pictures of the huge British and French cemeteries, then show the pictures of your American graves."

The next day Grace and Moses went to Bruges, where she was told by General d'Orgo to go to Germany, visit the HQ of the Army of Occupation, and decide whether the FANY Belgian Convoy should join them, or stay in Brussels with the Ministry of War.

It was a very relaxed time. She set off with her comrades of old, Wood and McDowall. The Belgian Army of Occupation HQ was in a dreary industrial town, Krefeld. There she presented her credentials to an elderly Colonel, who appeared to have no knowledge of, or interest in, the FANY Corps.

It didn't take any of them long to decide to reject the Army of Occupation and remain in Brussels with the Ministry of War. Before they left they heard that a detachment of the Guides were quite near, at a small village called Weyberg.

They could not resist the opportunity, made their way there, received a warm welcome, and stayed several days as guests of the Regiment. Regretfully tearing themselves away, they headed back to Bruges, via Brussels. There, Grace made her report, and registered her decision to stay with the Ministry of War.

When they finally got back to Bruges, there was a letter from England waiting for Grace telling her that her mother was not well. With the pressures of the war lifted, her decision was much easier to make. She packed immediately, drove to Boulogne, and went home on leave.

Christmas wasn't far off, but, as the days went by, and her mother slowly recovered her health, she was torn between staying on and the "frantic letters from Bruges that my presence was urgently required.' The girls were becoming bored, some very disenchanted with peace-time service, and wanting to be released.

She chose to stay on until Christmas was over, her mother back on her feet, and with 'strangely heavy heart' set off again for Belgium.