The anniversary of the opening of Lamarck hospital took place on the 31st October, 1915, and we had a tremendous gathering, French, English, and Belgians, described in the local rag as “une reception intime, l’elite de tout ce que la ville renferme!” The French Governor-General of the town, accompanied by two aides-de-camp, came in state.  All the guests visited the wards, and then adjourned for tea to the top room where the housekeeper had to perform miracles with the gas-ring.  A speech of thanks was made to the Corps, and “Scrubby” (the typhoid doctor) got up and in quelques paroles emues added his tribute as well.  It was a most successful show and we thought the French Governor would never depart, he seemed to enjoy himself so much!

Our next excitement was a big Allied concert given at the Theatre.  Several performances had taken place there since the one I described, but this was the first time Belgians, French, and English had collaborated.

Betty, who had been at Tree’s School, was asked to recite, and I was asked to play the violin.  She also got up a one-act farce with Lieutenant Raby.  It is extremely hard to be a housekeeper for a hospital and work up for a concert at the same time.  The only place I could practise in was the storeroom and there, surrounded by tins of McVitie’s biscuits and Crosse & Blackwell’s jam, I resorted when I could snatch a few minutes!

At last the day of the concert arrived and we rattled up to the Theatre in “Flossie.”  A fairly big programme had been arranged, and the three Allies were well represented.  There was an opera singer from Paris resplendent in a long red velvet dress, who interested me very much, she behaved in such an extraordinary way behind the scenes.  Before she was due to go on, she walked up and down literally snorting like a war-horse, occasionally bursting into a short scale, and then beating her breast and saying, “Mon Dieu, que j’ai le trac,” which, being interpreted, means, approximately, “My God, but I have got the wind up!” I sat in a corner with my violin and gazed at her in wonder.  Everything went off very well, and we received many be-ribboned bouquets and baskets of flowers, which transformed the top room for days.

All lesser excitements were eclipsed when we heard further rumours that the English Red Cross might take us over to replace the men driving for them at that time.

MacDougal and Franklin, our two Lieutenants, were constantly attending conferences on the subject.

At last an official requisition came through for sixteen ambulance drivers to replace the men by January 1, 1916.  You can imagine our excitement at the prospect.  The very first women to drive British wounded officially!  It was an epoch in women’s work in France and the forerunner of all the subsequent convoys.

Simultaneously an article appeared the 2nd December, 1915, headed “‘Yeowomen,’ a triumph of hospital organisation,” which I may be pardoned for quoting: