DURING the War I drove a Sunbeam Ambulance and at one time was
attached to the 92nd Field Ambulance. The division was in action at
Ypres and the first-aid post was in a dug-out on the canal bank. As
soon as darkness fell it was our duty to drive from Flaniatyage to
the first-aid post, pick up the wounded and convey back to Poperinghe
clearing station.
One very dark night I had just arrived at the first-aid post behind
Essex Farm, where I was told to return immediately with a very bad
abdominal case, and was given instructions to get to Poperinghe as
quickly as possible.
I had gone about 500 yards when the light of a star shell revealed
what seemed to be a lady standing in the middle of the road. I had to
pull up. Consider my surprise, as the next star shell went up, to
find no one there.
First, second, top gear, then another star shell and the lady was
just in front again. I pulled up to find no lady.
Just as I approached Salvation corner, I saw, by the light of a star
shell, a sentry standing at the challenge—his bayonet gleamed. I gave
the customary shout “92nd Field Ambulance.” He didn’t move again. I
pulled up and, to my astonishment, there was no sentry, but,
immediately in front, was a shell hole large enough to bury a London
bus. It took a long time to get past, but I got my patient to
Poperinghe alive. Should I have done so had those apparitions not
appeared?