Chapter I: HAD a lover, whose love had a quality that seemed to disregard

entirely the ordinary separation imposed by distance or stone walls. During the years that we were lovers, I often felt his invisible presence, although we were miles apart.

During the war, we were both in France. One morning early, I was preparing in my room to go on a train journey to meet him. He was a hundred miles away. I was hurrying, thinking of nothing but the necessity of catching the train, and answering the girls who were calling to me from other rooms to make haste, when I suddenly turned to the door as though impelled to do so. My lover entered with the quick eager impulsiveness which was his outstanding characteristic; straight up to me he came, put his hand on mine with a close, warm clasp, and was gone again—vanished in the same moment. I learned later that he had been taken prisoner that morning. His appearance had been absolutely natural, and had caused me not the slightest sensation of fear; my heart leapt to meet him, only I felt him to be disturbed and unhappy and that troubled me. He had not been injured and still lives.

“IN THE LENGTHENING OF THE DAYS”

My youngest brother joined up in 1914, and was sent to Salisbury Plain. Not long after his leaving home, very early one morning, somewhere between half-past one and two o'clock, I lay wide awake, and, to my astonishment, I saw him walk into our bedroom and go to the side of my invalid sister's bed, face her, turn, give a step towards the foot, turn again and salute her, and then lay down by her side. I screamed with fright, a most horrible scream, and as I did so, the vision vanished. I also awoke all the household to whom I had to tell what had frightened me so terribly. My people would have it that it was only a dream, although I knew it was not.

Shortly after that, my mother received a telegram saying that he was ill and coming home. I am glad to say that to-day, he is alive and well.

At the time I spoke to my mother again about the vision and she told me that I had seen my brother in the lengthening of the days, which meant he would live to a very old age.

A PASSIONATE LONGING

DURING the Egyptian Campaign, my mother had an experience which I have never been able to explain with satisfaction to myself. One night she was lying awake when she saw the bedroom door open and my brother, who was serving with the forces in Egypt, walk up to the bedside and gaze at her with an intense wistfulness in his expression. After both had remained motionless for some moments, my brother retraced his footsteps, and vanished through the doorway.

My mother was so impressed with the apparition, that she took note of the date and the time, feeling sure that some fatality had occurred to my brother.

When the war was over, and my brother returned home again, he dressed up in his uniform with sand-goggles, etc., and my mother at once recognised the dress as that worn by the apparition. On comparing notes, it was found that my brother was seriously ill of dysentery at that particular time and, fearing a fatal termination, was controlled by a passionate longing for the presence of his mother.

AN UNBELIEVER’S DOUBTS

GHOSTS, I personally do not believe in, but this is perfectly true. During the war, I was stationed for a short period at an empty convalescent camp, bordering the sea on the French coast. Our duty was to guard this, and, at night, we were a double guard—one held the main entrance, the other paraded the whole camp—a most desolate and wild affair amongst sand dunes and fir trees. My duty fell for this roving commission, and, wandering around, I felt compelled to enter the wood, and gaze at the camp from outside. The night was fair, with a moon casting long shadows, and, imagine my astonishment to behold a most weird apparition gliding effortless before me. I was struck dumb with surprise mingled with fear, but, remembering my loaded rifle and bayonet, I pulled myself together and investigated. It appeared to vanish, and, to my great surprise, straight through one of the hospitals. I searched, but in vain, and saw nothing more. Whether I was wrong, whether I saw something, I know not to this day.

THE WOMAN BY THE GRAVE

THIS is an account of my experience whilst in Germany as a prisoner of war in 1914, at Sennelager, near Paderborn. I was captured at Mons, on Sunday, August 23rd, 1914. I belonged to the 2nd Battalion, Royal Irish Regiment, and one of my comrades died from exposure early in October of that year. Volunteers were asked to attend his funeral, and of these I was one. The place where he was buried was a wild, desolate moor. The morning of the funeral was very cold and sleet was falling. We were a very miserable crowd as we stood by the graveside whilst the English chaplain read the Burial Service over our dead comrade. Suddenly, there stood with us a woman who remained until the service was over. There is nothing strange in that you will think, but the point is that none of us saw her until she stood with us and none saw her go. Our comrade was a married man, and what we all want to know is have we ever seen a ghost?

P.S.—We received a letter from his widow some months after, dated before his death, imploring him for God's sake to write to her. She had a child very ill in St. Thomas's Hospital.

MANSFIELD

In November, 1916, my son, eighteen and a half years old, went to the war, being sent out to France. The scene I wish to relate happened a week before the Easter of 1917. It was a Friday. I spent a most miserable, uneasy day. When dad came home at tea-time I was nearly frantic. However, he assured me all was well, and, retiring about eleven o'clock, I put the bedclothes over my shoulders expecting to sleep, when three sharp jerks pulled the clothes right off my shoulder. This was repeated twice. The third time, I tucked them under my arm and held them tight and waited to find out the cause. Then my son walked into the bedroom and came up to me. He was in uniform, excepting cap. His left hand was in his pocket. With the other he snatched my hand, gripped it twice and shouted, “Mother, Mother!”

The following week I heard from him. He went into battle about the time of my vision and was wounded. The same thing happened each time he was wounded—four times. It has always been a mystery to me. Each time the vision was so realistic and he always had the wounded part bandaged.

PORTSMOUTH

WHEN war broke out my brother was amongst those who answered the call. One night I saw my mother (who died just before the war) standing at the foot of my bed holding out her arms and looking straight past me. I turned my head and saw my brother come through the closed door and walk into my mother’s arms, and they both disappeared. At the time I thought, “How could a living being walk through a closed door.” The next morning I got the news that my brother had been killed in action.

WALSALL

A CLOSE friend of mine fought throughout the greater part of the late war without receiving a scratch. Some few months previous to the end of hostilities, he was selected for a commission, and was subsequently transferred to England to undergo the necessary training for a second-lieutenant. He was granted the position and, very shortly after, was drafted over to France. One night, when going into action, he was suddenly taken seriously ill and was carried back to hospital. During one evening, I, for some reason had to go to my bedroom, and, when about half-way on the stair-case, I distinctly saw, on the landing, a military officer standing to attention. I thought at first it was mere fancy, but, on going a few steps farther, I was thoroughly convinced that at no time had I seen a soldier so real. Then the vision vanished, as quick as thought, into the bedroom. I followed, but, after switching on the light, I failed to find anyone in the room save myself.

Next day we received the sad news that this young officer had died from sickness, three days after Armistice was signed.

PORT ERIN

IN October, 1916, I returned from Liverpool (where I had been working), for a few weeks holiday at my own home. Early one morning (between two and three o'clock), I was awakened by hearing singing in my bedroom. I knew the voice quite well—it was that of a young man who had been brought up in the same street as I, and had been educated at the same school. He was singing a verse of a hymn, quite loud and heartily. I got no more sleep that night and was very upset, as I knew this boy was fighting in France. A few days after, I met his sister and she told me they had had word to say that her brother was missing. A couple of weeks went by and word came to say that he had been killed.

NORWICH

IN October, 1917, I was staying with my four little children in a village near Lowestoft. My husband, a skipper of a steam drifter, was at sea. On the night of October 7th, I was awakened by a loud bang. At the same time the bed seemed floating on water. I looked up to see my husband bending over me, and he seemed to put cold, wet hands on each side of my face, then disappeared. Two days afterwards, I was informed that his vessel had struck a mine and was lost with all hands, about the time he appeared to me. Three or four months after, I again saw my husband, this time looking through the window. He had with him another man who was a great chum of his. He also was a skipper. A few days later, I was told that at the same time as I saw them this man went down with his ship in the channel raid.

BOLTON

AT 6:30 on the evening of the 15th April, 1917, during a German raid on our trenches on the Ploegsteert Front, my chum was killed at my side. As mutually arranged in case of such an event, I wrote his people. Ten days afterwards I received a letter from my chum’s sister, in which was stated that her mother died the same evening that he was killed. She died at 10 p.m.

At 8 p.m. the mother had called the family to her room. She then told them that Billy (the son) had appeared to her and told her that he had been “knocked out,” but would meet her very shortly.

OLDHAM

ONE evening during the late war I sat reading when I felt someone blow in my neck. I was just about to turn round when I heard a scream coming from upstairs. I went to see the reason, and, to my surprise, I saw my little girl sitting up in bed terrified. I took her in my arms and asked her what was the matter. She still looked afraid of a something, and said, “Look, mama,” and, pointing to a corner of the room, added, “There's daddy; a man up that tree has shot him; I saw him do it, and now my daddy is dead.” She fainted in my arms as she repeated “dead.” I ran to give her a drink to revive her, thinking it was just a nightmare she had had. Eventually, she fell asleep. The following week, I had news that my husband had been killed in action. On making inquiries, I found he had been shot by a sniper who was posted in a tree, and at the same hour as he had appeared to my little girl.

BARNSTAPLE, DEVON

IN August, 1916, my husband was sent to France. The following year I received a letter from him saying he would be home on leave, and I was to expect him any day. This was August 10th, 1917. I started to get in extra things and to prepare for his home-coming. I heard nothing more, but three nights after receiving his letter, I went to bed as usual, and about midnight, I heard my husband call my name. I sat up in bed, and there he was standing at the foot of the bed in his uniform with his arms outstretched in welcome. I couldn't sleep afterwards. In the morning I went home and told my parents what I had seen. I saw them look at each other. Then my mother said he had come to her the same night and asked her to look after us (I had one little girl). Four days later, I had a letter from the War Office saying my husband had been missing since midnight on the 22nd of August (later, presumed killed on that date). I can't understand it, but the vision is as clear to me now as it was nine years ago. You see, he came home to see us before going to a better home, and I’ve kept the memory of it to this day.

KENT