During the First World War, women played vital roles in the war effort, working as nurses and ambulance drivers
When war broke out in July 1914, combat was very much seen as men’s work. However, as the conflict dragged on, both the Allies and the Central Powers realised that they needed to rethink their attitude to who belonged on or near the battlefields.
The war claimed staggering numbers of casualties, so both sides constantly needed to recruit fresh troops. But warfare wasn’t just about going ‘over the top’. People were needed to drive ambulances, nurse the wounded, operate telephone lines, cook for the troops and perform a long list of other behind-the-scenes tasks to ensure that military operations kept running smoothly.
Eventually, the British War Office realised that as many as 12,000 men were performing these crucial but non-combat services in France. In order to free up men to send to the front, recruitment began to find women to perform these roles – and many were eager to take up the challenge. In December 1916, the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps was set up, its numbers eventually swelling to 9,000 in France alone; thousands more joined Voluntary Aid Detachments to offer nursing care. In 1917, Russia even formed a ‘Women’s Battalion of Death’, though rather than a great stride forward for gender equality, this was merely a propaganda exercise designed to shame war-weary men into fighting harder.
Although women didn’t actually hunker down in the trenches, many witnessed the brutality of war first-hand – especially nurses. Sophie Hoerner, who worked at a hospital near Étaples, wrote: “No one could imagine the horrors of a war like this unless they are here and could see for themselves. I have never seen such awful wounds.”
Female nurses performed all manner of duties, ranging from dressing injuries to administering anaesthesia during surgery. In fact, some hospitals were staffed entirely by women.
Crucially, women also helped transport wounded men to the hospitals, driving ambulances to the trenches to retrieve injured soldiers – and sometimes dodging artillery fire to do so. One sergeant wrote of these female drivers that: “When the cars are full of wounded, no one could be more patient, considerate or gentle… but when the cars are empty they drive like bats out of hell!”
Driving force of nature
Although many of the women who served have been forgotten, one who travelled to the front remains a household name: Marie Curie. Determined to diagnose soldiers’ injuries as quickly as possible, the Nobel-winning physicist invented the ‘little Curie’ – a vehicle retrofitted to serve as a travelling X-ray unit that could be driven straight to the affected. Twenty such vehicles were built; Curie even learned to drive them so that she could captain one of her ‘little Curies’ herself.
By the time World War I came to an end, another battle was reaching fever pitch. Demands for female emancipation grew stronger than ever: women insisted that, having volunteered their services and risked their lives for their country, they should have a say in its future. Within a decade, all women in Britain over the age of 21 had the right to vote.
- Read more | Female Tommies: women in the First World War
Who were the angels of Pervyse?
Two intrepid female motorcyclists risked their lives to nurse wounded soldiers
Divorced mother Elsie Knocker and teenager Mairi Chisholm may have seemed like an unlikely pairing, but they were friends who shared one big passion: a deep love of motorcycles. When war was declared in 1914, they were both determined to ‘do their bit’. They signed up with the Flying Ambulance Corps set up by Dr Hector Munro and were sent to the Belgian front.
Their job was to drive soldiers – many of whom had suffered terrible wounds – from the front line to the hospital, while dodging enemy fire. In doing so, many of the wounded died in their ambulance before reaching the hospital. The two women decided something had to be done, and they established an independent dressing station at Pervyse, a village in west Flanders. Mairi, who had no formal nursing training, simply learned on the job from Elsie.
What set this dressing station apart was that it stood a mere 90 metres from the front line, enabling the two women to tend to soldiers’ wounds almost immediately. That also put it at risk from wayward shells, which forced Elsie and Mairi to shelter underground and tend to their patients in the basement. Then, in March 1918, poison gas released by the Germans reached the hospital. The afflicted women left for Britain, though Mairi returned briefly to Pervyse to help more soldiers.
This article was first published in the July 2023 issue of BBC History Revealed