Your ghost stories have prompted me to write and tell you of an
experience which I had some years back and which Armistice Day has
brought back to me very vividly.
In 1916, I, like many more young women, felt the call of my country,
and I gave up a position I held in an office in Leicester and offered
my services at the Glen Parva Barracks, Wigston. I was accepted as a
clerk, but, when it was found that I was a typist too, I was sent into
an office to release a young soldier for foreign service. He took it
very well and showed me my new work very willingly. There were also
two soldier clerks and two civilians, but I was the only female in
the block of buildings. He was very friendly with all the clerks and
often came into the depot to see us whilst he was training. He
eventually went to France, and I thought no more about him, until one
night I was awakened out of my sleep by hearing someone move in my
bedroom. In the dim light I could see this soldier standing by the
chest of drawers and feverishly turning over the contents of the top
left hand drawer. My mother used to call it my “chaos” drawer,
because it was always in such a chaotic state—filled with all my odds
and ends. My blood ran cold and I could not speak. I sat and watched
him raking about in that drawer until, after what seemed an eternity
to me, I managed to gasp “Tyers, what do you want?” Never shall I
forget his face as he turned from the drawer and looked at me. It was
truly poor old Tyers, but his face was all drawn with pain, and
ghastly. In a moment, he vanished, and it was a long time before I
dared look at my watch to see what time it was. It was ten minutes
past two, and I did not fall asleep again until it was almost time to
get up. I missed my train next morning and was very late. In the
usual rush I did not get a chance to tell the other clerks until
quite late in the morning. They all listened anxiously and hardly had
the words left my lips when we heard footsteps coming quickly up the
wooden staircase outside. The next minute, the Lance-Cpl. who was on
duty in the guard room rushed in and said: “Have you heard about poor
old Tyers? He’s dead. His father has just telephoned to tell me that
he died in the early hours of this morning at a hospital in England.”
Why he appeared to me as he did I do not know, nor do I know what he
was looking for in the drawer, but I have always chided myself that I
took his place, for I feel somehow that I was partly responsible for
his untimely end.
The Sinking of the “Aboukir”
ON the night of September 22nd, 1914, I was sleeping with my
daughter, whose husband was serving on H.M.S. “Aboukir.”
During the night we heard a noise such as would be caused by the
dragging of heavy chains. I sat up with a start and my daughter
gasped. “Oh, mother! what is it?” I got out of bed and called the
only man in the house. He searched all over the house and the yard
outside, from whence the sound appeared to come. But all was silent.
We all went back to bed and, within a few minutes of our return, we
heard again the dreadful clanking—weird and unmistakable. Again a
vain search was made.
The following morning the papers announced the sinking of the
“Aboukir” and my son-in-law went down with it.
“On Leave”
I was engaged to a soldier, during the War, and received notice that
he was coming home “on leave.” The day before he was expected I was
“spring-cleaning” a bedroom, with a friend, when she suddenly
exclaimed: “Look, there is ——— on his bicycle,” and pointed out of the
window. As I was busy at work (and not too clean) knowing that I
should see him within an hour, I drew back, that I might not draw his
attention to me, and told her to do the same, until I had dressed
properly. I was not surprised he was a day early. We watched him from
the window, and saw him speak to the gardener, who was sweeping, and
then we hurried up. Having dressed, I went to the gate, but saw no
sign of him, so I asked the gardener which direction he took. The man
said he enquired if I still worked at this house, but he did not
notice which way he went. Thinking he had probably gone to my home
(ten minutes distant), but wondering he had not called for me, I went
home. No one, excepting my friend, myself and the gardener had seen
him.
Next day I learnt that on the day, at the actual time I saw him, and
the gardener spoke to him, he was killed in France.