Grace arrived back in France on New Years Eve, crossing the Channel with Dancer, a Canadian girl who had joined the FANY in November.

They were disappointed there was no transport to meet them, but things had moved very rapidly since the Armistice, and most of the Corps were now 'up country' following hard on the heels of the advancing Allied armies into northern France, Belgium and Germany itself.

Unit 5, Grace's Belgian convoy, had settled into Bruges. The RTO at Boulogne fixed them up with Travel Orders, advising them to go via Paris and Brussels, the main line routes being more reliable.

She remembers, ruefully, spending New Years Eve in the train, arriving in a changed and crowded Paris. "We got into a taxi at 6 a.m., hungry and tired, and at 8 a.m. were still in the taxi having been turned away from 22 hotels – all full up."

Finally, remembering the address of an American Major she knew, they drove there, and after much ringing of the doorbell, she recalls "a strange figure appeared clad in a long, loose garment – an American nightshirt." Never having seen one before she could scarcely contain her giggles, which made her feel slightly better after all she had been through in the past 24 hours.

The Major let out a muffled curse – he later insisted it was an apology – and vanished, returning shortly more suitably attired to usher the two girls in. Things then improved. After a hot bath and breakfast, the Major sent his Orderly out to find them a hotel. Successful, the girls spent that night in comfort, and travelled to Brussels the following day.

By now, still only weeks after the conflict had finally ended, there was a wonderful spirit of relaxed camaraderie everywhere. Grace's companion, Dancer, met up with four American officers about to drive to Bruges, who immediately offered them a lift. Grace remembers vividly "They all came from Texas, and they all had broken noses – whether this is coincidence, or a characteristic of Texas I do not know!"

Although Grace had not been away all that long, changes had inevitably taken place, with more under way. Already some of her girls had moved on or gone home to England.

To her dismay – and sadness – O'Neil Power, her 2 i/c and long time friend, left within two days. Her mother's health had suddenly deteriorated. During all those difficult and dangerous months – years – in Calais, when Grace herself was so often away, O'Neil had held the fort, loyal, supportive and efficient. In Grace's own words "O'Neil had been my right hand."

This was a scenario being faced by many millions as men and women of all services went home. Friendships forged and tested in the white heat of conflict were now being further tested by separation, as old comrades said their farewells and headed homewards.

One of Grace's favourite girls, the young, attractive, adventurous Moses had already left. It was she who joked 'what would the Belgians have said if she had driven into the German lines', after so nearly doing so. Joining the American Red Cross in Paris, she was shortly after dispatched to Albania, where her work became legendary. Grace wrote: "She made history, young as she was, and was adored by all the rough mountaineers who called her 'the Duchess'." Her other claim to fame was the raising of the first troop of Albanian Boy Scouts!

Grace bemoans the fact that "three stout veterans were lost to me". The last was the redoubtable Marples, another long-time friend, whose quickwittedness in passing her a tyre lever when threatened by two deserters, got them out of a tight spot. Torn between a desire to stay on, and an invitation to go and join up with Moses in Albania, she couldn't resist the challenge, and off she went.

Never one to resist a challenge herself, Grace quite understood their position.

Others began to drift away. "The thrill of Active Service was over." She wrote. But there was still work to be done. Duty called.

The Minister for War in Brussels summoned Grace to a discussion about the future. "He begged me to stay on for a few months." The whole service was in a bit of a mess. Men were desperate for leave, to be again with their families from whom they had been separated for so long. If Unit 5 would stay a bit longer, based in Brussels, they would "render an inestimable service to Belgium." A great deal of driving would be involved, the Minister explained, and after years of driving cars and ambulances under difficult and dangerous conditions, who better to carry out this work but the FANY Corps.?

Grace carried the word back to Bruges, and in spite of some girls already having left, there were still many eager and willing to stay on in Belgium, and fill the breach.

After carefully assessing the situation in Bruges, Grace wrote to the Ministry of War to tell them that two cars were all that were needed there, and two of her girls had volunteered to stay on and drive them. The remainder were ready to move to Brussels and carry out any tasks that were allocated to them.

To her frustration, there was no response to her letter, and after a suitable time Grace took matters into her own hands. Dealing with Officialdom and Red Tape were almost second nature to her now.

Leaving two cars and drivers as specified in her letter to the Ministry, she packed up the remainder of the convoy and headed for Brussels. It was still early in the year, bitter weather still prevailing. With her own brand of wry humour she records "The roads were white with snow, and we arrived blue with cold!"

As expected, accommodation was in short supply, but after resorting to a 'hotel tout' as Grace put it, they got rooms at a small place behind the main railway station.

While her party settled in, Grace lost no time in making her way to the War Ministry. There she confronted a very surprised Commandant Bemmelmans, her contact.

"I was thickly coated with snow and ice" she wrote "when I entered his office, and told him we had come and required work and quarters at once. He was quite upset, poor man, but I was firm." One can only imagine his feelings being suddenly confronted by this snow-sprinkled Amazon.

Then came the ultimatum. Pulling no punches she told him bluntly that his Minister for War, personally, had begged them to stay on, and they must either give us work or let us demobilize.

It was a gamble – demobilization was the last thing she wanted for herself or her FANYs. Fortunately, her ploy succeeded, but only after an anxious wait of three days.

When the word finally came through they were ordered to report to the big Military Transport Centre at Cinquantiere Park. Here they were to be based for their remaining few months.

Grace's 2 i/c was now Mary Baxter-Ellis. The two of them had gone together on that momentous fund-raising Blitzkrieg in the North of England and Scotland to finance the newly acquired FANY Hospital at Porte a Binson. They made a good team then, and still did.

As usual, minor problems arose. One of the girls, Cameron, was anxious to visit her husband, who was C.O. of a Canadian Regiment now in Belgium.

Grace agreed immediately, but then went down with a peculiar kind of 'snow sickness' as it was called, collapsing whenever she got out of bed, and was laid up, for some days. Once again the stresses and pressures she had been under for so long were catching up with her. The poky hotel they were still living in had no such thing as room service, or even its own dining facilities. For meals, they were dependent on a small café below the hotel.

Each day, Baxter-Ellis took the girls down to the Transport Centre where they were allotted their jobs for the day. This very largely involved driving senior Military officers from place to place in Brussels, or much further afield, all over Belgium, France and into Germany itself. It was an entirely new routine from what they had been used to for so long, and they became very involved, determined to maintain their reputation.

Once Grace recovered, however, she asked for news of Cameron. In all the excitement she had been overlooked. Nobody had thought to ask Cameron where her husband was stationed. Eventually the British Consul found the name of the village for them. Now seriously alarmed Grace set out to trace her.

She finally made contact with Colonel Cameron. On the night following her visit, he was driving her back to Brussels in the regimental carriage, when the horses bolted. In the ensuing crash his wife had broken her ankle badly, been taken to the nearest British Military Hospital, then evacuated to England for specialist treatment. The mystery was solved but they had lost yet another of their number. At least she was safe, but in true FANY fashion the others shrugged it off, kept in touch now they knew where she was, and got on with the job!

However, the situation was not ideal. One part of the promise made by the War Ministry was being fulfilled, they had been given work. Proper quarters were still missing. Having put 'snow sickness' and Cameron's adventures behind her, Grace was free to concentrate on that aspect.

It didn't take her long to get things up and running. A visit to the War Ministry produced a new contact, a young Belgian Air Force Lieutenant Bonnevie, who was delighted to work with these attractive young English ladies, and help them in every way possible. In no time he was able to acquire a really good billet for them, a large house at 13 Rue de la Limite. It had been occupied by German officers and was in excellent condition.

With Bonnevie's help they settled in quickly. He arranged for three German POWs to be allocated as their Orderlies, living in servants quarters on the top floor of the house. He also arranged for Grace to be issued with a revolver, and each evening around 10 o/c, Baxter-Ellis solemnly got it out and marched the men up to their quarters, locking them in for the night!

This show of force was apparently more theatrical than a necessity, for as Grace recorded in her memoirs, the 'prisoners' "became very attached to us, and even begged us to take them to England when we left!"

Once the girls had put the finishing touches to the decorations, their Mess became a "centre of much fun and gaiety."

Indulging in her penchant for hyperbole, Grace wrote:

"So now began our life in Brussels. Nobody thought ahead, we all revelled in the present, in the freedom from strain, the knowledge that the dance of death had ended. We were perhaps a trifle unbalanced, a little distraught after years of exhaustion, years of living on nerves, and will power; and who was to blame us for snatching at life and love? All the things of which war had deprived us?"