A SCHOOLGIRL IN THE FIRST WORLD WAR 1914-1918
My family lived in a house in Shorncliffe Road, Folkestone, and my sister and I were daygirls at a nearby school. My first impression of the outbreak of war was the influx of the Belgian Refugees of whom six were billetted with us. They were wretched and terrified and we gladly fed, housed and clothed them until the authorities took over responsibility.
Down the Hill of Remembrance marched a constant line of our troops bound for France, many of them never to return. Soon the steady stream of wounded soldiers started to pour back to Folkestone Harbour and a canteen was opened, manned day and night. Sometimes my sister and I took the 4 a.m. shift, were standing in a margarine queue at 8 and had to be in school at 9.
Food became very scarce and expensive. I remember a 'boiled beef' dinner consisted of gravy, potatos, onions, turnips and dumplings, but no beef. When we could get oranges we made marmelade, first giving the juice to my small brother and mixing the sliced pith with saccharine and quassia chips to give it a tang. It was delicious.
Enemy aircraft often flew over trying to bomb the railway viaduct, but nobody took much notice at that time. I passed my Red Cross exam in April 1917 and became a member of the V.A.D. (Voluntary Aid Detachment). My first job was in the scullery at a hospital on the Leas.
On May 25th, 1917 there was a terrible air rad. Bombs fell mainly at the Central Station and in Tontine Street. I happened to be bicycling down Shorncliffe Road wearing my newly-acquired Red Cross brassard when the sky became alive with eneny Planes. A young boy fell wounded not far away and I was astonished to find that the cries of "Sister! Sister!" from a group of passers-by were directed at me. We carried the boy into a boys' school where I dressed his wounds and hailed a passing greengrocer's cart to take him to hospital. It struck me that the Royal Victoria Hospital might need help so I hurred there on my bicycle and found a distressing sight, bodies lying all over the place and children crying. Seventy one people were killed in Folkestone in that raid.
By that time I had been put in charge of the telephone exchange at the Canadian Military Hospital in the Wescliff Hotel, later named the Majestic and now demolished. The walking patients used to pass the time hanging round my office for a chat. One ex-boxer said he had a present for me and handed me a cod! My romantic expectations were damped but Mother was delighted.
I was still on the switchboard when the welcome news came through from the Officer in charge of Signals at Capel to say he had had a message from France to the R.N.A.S. (Royal Naval Air Service) at 10 a.m. that morning, the 11th of November, 1918, that the Armistice had been signed. I felt very proud to be the first to give the news to the Hospital and my family an hour before the public announcement. The War was over.
