What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?

— Only the monstrous anger of the guns.

Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle

Can patter out their hasty orisons.

No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;

Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,—

The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;

And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?

Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes

Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.

The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;

Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,

And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

We ate our breakfast lying on our backs,

because the shells were screeching overhead.

I bet a rasher to a loaf of bread

That Hull United would beat Halifax

When Jimmy Stainthorpe played full-back instead

of Billy Bradford. Ginger raised his head

And cursed, and took the bet; and dropt back dead.

We ate our breakfast lying on our backs,

Because the shells were screeching overhead.

British nursing and military administrator who led the British Red Cross Voluntary Aid Detachment force during the First World War, and served as the inaugural Director of the Women's Royal Naval Service (1917–19). Furse was also the first Director of the World Association of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts (1928–38).

In 1909, Katherine joined the Voluntary Aid Detachment (VAD). On the outbreak of the First World War, Katharine was chosen to be the head of the first VAD unit to be sent out to France, arriving on 21 September 1914. Aware of her administrative abilities, the authorities decided to place Furse in charge of the VAD Department in London. Furse realised that the existing number of nurses would prove inadequate to deal with the enormous amount of work expected, and in September 1914 she proceeded to France with a number of assistants, forming the nucleus of the VAD force.

In January 1915 she returned to England, and the VAD work was officially recognised as a department of the Red Cross organisation. She received the Royal Red Cross and Order of St John of Jerusalem. The following year she became one of the five women appointed Dame Grand Cross, a newly created Order of the British Empire. Although she considered it a great success being head of the Voluntary Aid Detachment, Furse was unhappy about her lack of power to introduce reforms. In November 1917, she and several of her senior colleagues resigned due to a dispute over the living conditions of the VAD volunteers and the Red Cross refusal to coordinate with the Woman's Army group.

Furse was immediately offered the post as director of the Women’s Royal Naval Service (WRNS), this was equivalent to the rank of Rear Admiral. The women were so successful that other organisations such as the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps (WAAC) and the Women’s Royal Air Force (WRAF) were also established. After the First World War, she became the Director of the World Association of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts. There is a plaque in Furse’s honour at her birthplace Clifton Hill in Bristol.

Born in 1892, Marguerite Maud McArthur was very academically gifted, obtaining first class honours at Cambridge. She was not only a member of the National Union of Women’s suffrage society but also played a role in the war effort, being the secretary of a hostel housing distressed women during the war. She also became employed by the Young Men’s Christian Association to provide support for servicemen.

Because of her language skills in French and German she then worked in the War Office Translation Bureau. Towards the end of the war, Marguerite became part of the Army Educational Service of the YMCA in France to help young children. In 1919 she died of pneumonia at 26 but the impact she had on the war effort was acknowledged and she was given a military funeral and then buried in the French Military Cemetery.

The effect she had was not forgotten as in 1920, her friend Josephine Kellett published a biography entitled “That Friend of Mine”. Her life was perceived as one that “brought happiness into every life it touched” and her friends claimed she was “the example which we all strive to follow as best as we can”.

The story of Elsie Inglis, is the story of a pioneering woman doctor and is another example of an extraordinary young woman doing all she can to help in the war effort.

Elsie attended the Edinburgh School of Medicine in 1892 and later worked as a consultant in Bruntsfield Hospital. After the outbreak of the First World War, she offered her services to the Royal Army Medical Corps but was told to 'go home and sit still'. Undeterred, Elsie set up her own organisation, the Scottish Women's Hospitals, which treated troops in Serbia and Russia.

Elsie became the first woman to be awarded the Order of the White Eagle, the highest honour given by Serbia. Elsie and her medical team were evacuated following the Russian Revolution in November 1917. She died from cancer the day after returning to England.

Winston Churchill said of Elsie and her nursing team that "they will shine in history" and this is evidenced from the memorial fountain that has been erected in her memory.

These hearts were woven of human joys and cares,

Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth.

The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs,

And sunset, and the colours of the earth.

These had seen movement, and heard music; known

Slumber and waking; loved; gone proudly friended;

Felt the quick stir of wonder; sat alone;

Touched flowers and furs and cheeks. All this is ended.

There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter

And lit by the rich skies, all day. And after,

Frost, with a gesture, stays the waves that dance

And wandering loveliness. He leaves a white

Unbroken glory, a gathered radiance,

A width, a shining peace, under the night.

There's the girl who clips your ticket for the train,

And the girl who speeds the lift from floor to floor,

There's the girl who does a milk-round in the rain,

And the girl who calls for orders at your door.

Strong, sensible, and fit,

They're out to show their grit,

And tackle jobs with energy and knack.

No longer caged and penned up,

They're going to keep their end up

Till the khaki soldier boys come marching back.

There's the motor girl who drives a heavy van,

There's the butcher girl who brings your joint of meat,

There's the girl who cries 'All fares, please!' like a man,

And the girl who whistles taxis up the street.

Beneath each uniform

Beats a heart that's soft and warm,

Though of canny mother-wit they show no lack;

But a solemn statement this is,

They've no time for love and kisses

Till the khaki soldier-boys come marching back.