Part 1

Ghosts in the Great War and True Tales of Haunted Houses

Thrilling Experiences of “Daily News” Readers

Edited by S. Louis Giraud

LONDON FLEETGATE PUBLICATIONS (“Daily News” Books Dept.), Lombard Lane, Bouverie Street, E.C.4.

The full list of books in this series is as follows:

No. 1. TRUE GHOST STORIES. Told by _Daily News_ Readers.

No. 2. WARNINGS FROM BEYOND. Signs, Visions and Premonitions told by readers of the _Daily News_, con- taining: Strange Warnings and Premonitions. Inexplicable Experiences. Remarkable Stories of Ghosts of the Living. Visions of those who have Passed Over. Promised Signs from the Dead. Extraordinary Experiences related by Nurses. Strange Visions of Animals. “Tall” Stories. Some Stories with a Sequel.

No. 3. UNCANNY STORIES. Weird happenings to _Daily News_ readers. Some Ghostly things explained.

No. 4. GHOSTS IN THE GREAT WAR AND TRUE TALES OF HAUNTED HOUSES. Thrilling Experiences of _Daily News_ readers. ——————

On sale everywhere, or can be procured direct from the publishers :——FLEETGATE PUBLICATIONS (_Daily News_ Books Dept.), Lombard Lane, Bouverie Street, London, E.C. 4.

***

INTRODUCTION

The subject of Ghosts and Ghostly happenings has always aroused a vast amount of interest, much fear, some amusement and varying degrees of ridicule, but in recent years the names of so many prominent and influential people have been directly associated with it and used in support of the existence of spiritual intercourse that it has become worthy of a careful examination. This fact, and the reported reappearance of the “brown lady” of Raynham Hall, the home of the Marquis Townshend, in the latter part of last year, led the Editor of the Home Magazine Page of the Daily News, in co-operation with the Publishers of this book to invite readers to give their experiences in this matter. In extending this invitation the Daily News, in its issue of November 6th, 1926, stated:

“A vast number of people do believe in ghosts—many on the most inadequate evidence. But up and down the country, in lonely farms, in quiet suburban roads, in London flats—in fact, wherever the living dwell and the dead have dwelt, there are people who fully believe that they have seen mysterious apparitions, sometimes uncanny, sometimes not even uncanny, strange noises unaccountable by any human agency known to the witness. And these agencies they believe to be ghosts.

"Let us find out what these occurrences amount to. We ask our readers, in the interests of sober truth, to tell us of the stories which are authentically within their own knowledge—not the feverish traditional stories of the countryside, but the sights and sounds which they themselves have seen and heard, or which their friends and neighbours have seen and heard, and which have convinced them that ghosts really exist.

“Many will hesitate because the story they have to tell, though inexplicable, seems so futile; but futility is often characteristic of the real living contemporary ghost story as distinguished from the blood-curdling romance handed down from the past, with dripping hands and clanking chains."

As a small recognition of the service rendered by the writers of these experiences, a daily prize was given by the Daily News for the first ghost story published each day during the appearance of the correspondence. It was also announced that it was felt that this important body of evidence on a subject of continual controversy should not be lost, and, therefore, the Publishers of this book undertook to gather into book form the best of the stories, and to equally divide a further sum of £20 in prizes to the authors of the ten best stories used in this way.

It was then thought that one book would be adequate for the presentation of these selected stories, but the response to the Daily News invitation was so enormous, that no less than four books of most extraordinary stories are now completed and published, and the awards have been increased to £40.

The Editor of these books has read through every story received—some three thousand in all—and endeavoured to classify them and then group the various phases of the subject under appropriate titles. It has been a tremendous undertaking, and the work has occupied several months. Every selected story has been reproduced without alteration of fact, and in almost every case the actual wording of the stories has been adhered to.

The task of scrutinising this vast amount of matter could be done by only one person where the merits of each story were to be judged for the purpose of awarding prizes. And that single-handed task had its compensations as well as its trials, because it yielded a comprehensive survey that could not have been accomplished by collaboration.

The outstanding feature of this examination was the total absence of the really horrible stories of Ghosts that have been served out to the public from time to time. There was no lack of extraordinary incidents, as the stories which we now reproduce will show; and generally there was a wholesome respect for the nature of the great subject under consideration. Most of the stories prove honesty of purpose on the part of the narrators, and the fact that the writers of some of the most striking occurrences represent every class, from the poor and unlettered, to those well-placed in the world, is an indication that the subject of Ghosts or Spirits has an amazing interest for the public. Reverend Gentlemen, Magistrates, Professional Men, Nurses, all figure in the list of those whose stories we reproduce, and the nature of the great majority of the letters received indicates a desire for serious inquiry rather than a mere relation of something to excite or frighten.

All those stories which showed abnormal temperament—and there were many of those—have been carefully excluded in the preparation of these books, but full advantage has been taken of the stories which were sent to explain away strange happenings and to relieve the ghostly atmosphere with healthy humour.

We make no claim to attempt to answer the question “Do Ghosts exist? ”; we simply present in the most careful manner the best incidents out of the many sent to us in support of the Ayes and Nos, and to the many who have experienced inexplicable manifestations and await an explanation, we can only say that unless such can be gleaned from the sequels to supposed Ghostly happenings with which this collection of stories is interspersed, we are afraid this great subject has not yet been sufficiently investigated to yield them complete satisfaction.

One thing this vast amount of correspondence has proved is, that while the least temperamental of us may scoff at the idea of Ghosts, and the humorously inclined may find it a happy sporting ground for the exercise of wit, there is something which surrounds the lives of a large number of apparently sane and decent-living people, that cannot be analysed as we are used to analysing things in this modern age. And this something is sufficiently diversified to arouse in those who are not immune from it feelings varying in degrees between the two extremes of uncontrollable dread and deep reverence. To have accomplished this alone would have been a complete justification for the preparation and publication of these books, but we hope something further will be accomplished, namely, to prove the futility, if not the danger, of putting on the market literature on this subject of such an extravagant nature that it not only injures in its undue infliction of terror those who read it, but detrimentally affects the merits of a subject which, to those who are interested in it, has as many claims to investigation as Wireless or any other subject of equally uncanny surprises and possibilities.

Having thus dealt with the main aspects of this correspondence, there are two matters which must not be overlooked: one is a protest that was included in the correspondence—a protest against the publication of these Ghost stories, and the other the very emphatic “No” which is given by several writers to the question “Do you believe in Ghosts?”

Below we give in full the protest referred to, and also the principal “Nos.” The former, we believe, is sufficiently answered in the foregoing remarks, and the latter constitute another interesting phase of this very interesting subject.

For the information of those who may desire to secure the whole of the four books in this series or any particular one dealing with a special phase of the subject, a full description is given on the back of the title page of this book.

The fact that the names and addresses of the writers of these stories have been withheld, and also names of people and places mentioned in the stories, must not be regarded as a reflection upon the truth of the story or the honesty of the writer; it is essential in the best interests of everybody.

It should also be mentioned that in the case of those stories which are set out under headings of Counties or Towns it does not follow that the incidents related always apply to the Town or County under which they appear; they mostly indicate the place from which the story was received.

THE EDITOR.

The stories for which prizes have been awarded are as follows:—

Book No. 1. TRUE GHOST STORIES.

• Old Mother Bishop. • Out of the Everywhere. • A Strange S.O.S. • Jeanie Passes By. • Saved by the Supernatural. • A Child's Vision, and Experiences in Later Life. • A Convincing Experience. • A Horrible End. • The Wail of a Snail. • Late News.

Book No. 2. WARNINGS FROM BEYOND.

• Strange Warnings and Premonitions. • Saved by His Child. • A Persistent Warning. • A Startling Vision. • Why I Am Convinced. • Inexplicable Experiences. • An Unseen Menace. • The Phantom Organist. • Remarkable Stories of Ghosts of the Living. • A Strange Vision. • A Life-saving Vision. • Grandmother's Call. • Extraordinary Experiences Related by Nurses. • The White Friar. • A Wandering Spirit.

Tall Stories.

• The “Tallest” of the “Tall.” • That Was a Good Race. • The Musician's Ghost.

Strange Visions of Animals.

• The Dying Sealyham.

Book No. 3. UNCANNY STORIES.

• ‘One Tid 'E Get Out? • In the Quiet of the Night. • A Gruesome Treasurer. • The Butterfly Ghost. • Saved by His Own Ghost. • A Photographic Mystery. • The Flying Dutchman. • A Strange Vision and Its Sequel.

Book No. 4. GHOSTS IN THE GREAT WAR AND HAUNTED HOUSES.

• A Pal in Life and Death. • The Morning of the Ypres Big Push. • Is there an Explanation? • A Dream or a Ghost? • An Evil Presence. • A Strange Story. • Was It a Curse!

LETTERS REFERRED TO IN INTRODUCTION.

Dear Sirs,—Noting that this correspondence is transferred to you, I venture to think that I can subscribe interesting matter for the subject.

Born seventy-three years ago and passing my early youth in the country, it will be understood that story telling was a regular feature of spending evenings, and the “ghostly” variety was very prevalent, so much that my young mind was saturated with that nonsense, and to such an extent that life for me after the passing of daylight was a burden. In the dark I fancied seeing ghostly shapes and hearing ghostly sounds everywhere. An elder sister who was similarly affected and, to some extent, my mother, were the only persons who knew of my sufferings, as I would have been subject to ridicule from others, who, however, no doubt had a touch of the disease themselves. I remember my mother hushing the “entertainer” when children were present, and trying to divert the talk into other channels.

Then happily came the cure. Somehow a book came into my hand (probably borrowed by me or for me). I do not remember its title. It may have been “Ghosts Laid Bare,” “The Inexplicable Explained,” or “Common Sense Versus Superstition.” It was ghost stories again, just as I had heard them (with variation) and quite in line with what the otherwise generally intelligent Daily News has been serving us, but with this difference, that after each tale a natural explanation of it was given. It must have been done very well, fully intelligible for my about thirteen years’ mind. The effect was remarkable. I saw how I had been fooled, and to my intense relief was cured of all fear.

You will therefore understand that unless your intended book of Ghost Stories or Uncanny Incidents is to be on the same line, that is an anti-dose after each dose of poison, I for one condemn it in advance.

I note that it is not all “real” ghost stories, “The Silken Ghost,” for example, with its explanations on the line of what I have said of the cure book. “The Picture in the Fire” also, but that is so evidently “made up” that it has no place anywhere, least of all among the prize winners.

As to footsteps on the stairs and “mysterious” slamming of doors, I have heard that often as it happens in my own house, but prefer to believe they come from the adjoining house and in a natural manner rather than in the ghost inventor's ways. And why should ghosts necessarily make noises—and ordinary, natural, commonplace noises to boot?

So please stop frightening our children. Leave the ghost culture to the savages, where they originate, and if occasions occur give them a hand to get over that damned superstition. Yours truly, W. C.

This was not meant for publication, but why not? I am sure it is far superior to anything else that will appear in your book and ought to have first prize.

The following story is true, down to the minutest detail. One night I had a dream and saw an angel bending over me and folding his wings in a protective manner about my sleeping form. So vivid was the dream that I awoke—not altogether in dread because the face and posture of the angel held nothing but kindness, love and protection.

When I awoke, however, the vision did not fade just at once, and I made a cry of awe and, probably, of fear. This awoke my husband and he gently reassured me and soothed me, and, not to disturb him further, I calmed myself to sleep, determined to say nothing of my dream till next day.

After lunch on the following day, therefore, when we were having our customary half-hour's rest and chat, I opened the subject of the dream, and was about to relate it when he stopped me, saying he was sure he had seen my dream, and begged me to let him relate the dream first. I did so, and was much amazed that he had seen my dream exactly as I had done, and could relate the appearance and attitude of the angel in every particular. Did either of us think we had seen a ghost or apparition? Neither of us thought so.

The truth of the matter was that my dream had been so vivid and real that even after I awoke the impression of the vision was still on my brain and took a little time to fade away, and my husband's sympathy was so alive to my distress, and his mind as much in tune with mine, that my mind, as it were, photographed to his mind the vision which I saw.

Such happenings as these are merely scientific, not supernatural; but in this case both my husband and myself would probably think we had seen a ghost had it not been that our education had led us into scientific studies in face of which we knew we had not seen a ghost. The present day vogue in spiritualism and kindred subjects, which shows the God of Love and the Creator of the Universe as a small-minded creature who amuses Himself frightening us poor mortals, is nothing but pure ignorance, and deserves to be put down as such. To try to get into touch with the Almighty by such trickery, for instance, as table-rapping, is simply blasphemy.

I do not believe in ghosts, except as the result of our own imaginations. In “Hamlet” (Act III., Scene IV.), when the ghost enters, only Hamlet sees it. His mother, the Queen, not seeing it, thinks him mad. That ghost is merely one conjured up by Hamlet's imagination. By continually thinking about, and brooding over, the fact that he has not yet avenged his father's murder, the accusing ghost appears to him. After he has explained matters to his mother, she rightly says: “This is the very coinage of your brain, this bodiless creation.” Similarly, Brutus alone is visited by the ghost of Caesar. Only Macbeth sees the ghost of Banquo in his place at the table, and says, “The table's full.” Lennox, with surprise, replies, “Here's a place reserved, sir.”

During my lifetime I have seen only one of these ghosts of the imagination. During the last year of the Great War (I was only eight years old), there were many horrible stories in circulation among my schoolfellows about the Kaiser. What an effect they had on my imagination! I could go nowhere in the dark alone. Even when accompanied, I saw awful phantoms: sometimes bold and prominent, sometimes misty and indistinct, but always with spiked helmets—and always Kaisers! As soon as it grew dark my life was a perfect misery. I was thankful I did not sleep alone. When the war ended these ghosts gradually faded and, again, I could venture in the dark alone!

I am sure that people imagine the ghosts they see in lonely woods and on lonely heaths. The weird noises they hear are natural—perhaps magnified by their imaginations. Even when not magnified, the sighing and shrieking of the wind in the trees and the mournful hootings of the owl are very eerie!

I am only a working woman, and not highly educated, but I feel I must put a pen to your ghost problem. Well, I don't believe in them; there are none. Would any sensible person, having lost their dearest and best, like to feel their spirits were not at rest? Why, Flanders field would be white with ghosts. I believe that nervous people often fancy they see things, as I have proved, having lost a dear sister, whose mind became unbalanced through a nervous breakdown. She used to tell us all sorts of things she saw, but, thank God, we have never seen her ghost. But I believe there are times when we are downcast and warned by a kind of telepathy of impending illness or death among dear ones, but only at times. I have proved this also. No, sir, no Christian people believe in ghosts.

Many years ago I was helping my father to build a house, on the side of a main road, near a large village in Lincolnshire. It was early autumn, and the house was nearing completion. A workman was left in charge during the night, but on one occasion, owing to the sudden illness of his wife, he was unable to fulfil his duty, and I elected to remain and take charge. It was a beautiful night, and the moon was in full. I had made a fire in a middle room, and by the light from a candle, I read through an interesting novel by Harrison Ainsworth. I looked at the time: it was close on midnight. I blew out the light and closed my eyes, the happenings which I had just read in the novel rapidly passing through my mind. The silence was intense: the loneliness complete. Suddenly I was startled by a crash and the sound of falling glass on the front-room floor. Feeling sure that someone passing had hurled a broken brick through one of the large bay-window panes, I rushed upstairs, and from one of the windows which overlooked the road, and from which a long distance could be seen both ways, I looked to see in which direction the culprit had gone. Not a soul was to be seen; not a sound was to be heard! Then I went to inspect the damage. Every pane was intact, and there was not a fragment of glass on the floor!

Later in life, I have found, on more than one occasion, what tricks one’s imagination and thoughts can play; how they can conjure up pictures, and faces and forms, not only of those we know, but of those we have known, which the eyes, acting in unison, will, under varying circumstances, place momentarily before you. The writer “Norfolk,” in your issue of the 17th inst., had this experience when he saw the face at the window.

No, I do not believe in ghosts!

Ghosts In The Great War

A Pal in Life—and Death

My pal and I joined the Army on the 21st day of September, 1914. My mother’s last words to me were, “Be a man; do your duty. If God spares you to come back to me I will be proud of you, my lad!” I was the only son. My pal heard her words and said: “Cheer up; we will come back. ‘England expects every man to do his duty.’”

My pal was a soldier from head to foot. When duty called he was always ready; fear never entered his head. Night and day we were never parted; side by side we fought for two long years, and I am sure his thoughts always were that England did expect every man to do his duty.

He was shot dead at my feet on the 5th of October, 1916. If he could have spoken to me I am sure his last words would have been, “Thank God, I have done my duty.”

Broken-hearted through the loss of my pal I did my best to carry on, although my nerves were shattered, and fear was always in my heart. I was a messenger and had to carry messages from the firing line to headquarters. Three weeks after the death of my pal we were on the Somme. Our division went over the top; we fought our way forward all day until darkness stopped our advance. My captain handed me a message and said: “Go back to headquarters with this as quick as possible.”

It was a lovely moonlight night. As I ran forward bullets and shells were flying everywhere. I don’t know whether it was the sight of dead men that lay around or the noise of the battle, but fear got the better of me. I dropped into a shell hole. The longer I sat the worse I got. The message which meant so much to my comrades in the firing line was now getting delayed. Shell after shell burst around me. I made one more attempt to go on, and, as I crawled out of the shell hole, the sight I saw I shall never forget. There was my pal standing not two yards away, not in white as most ghosts are, but dressed in his soldier's clothes. I stood there: the shock was too much for me; I could not move. But the ghost (I am sure it was my pal) kept waving me on and pointing in the direction of the headquarters, which were about a mile away. I don't know how, but I moved on; the ghost moved also. If I stopped it stopped and waved me on. This went on until I was about ten yards off my destination. The ghost then waved its hand as if to say “good-bye,” and disappeared into the air. Terrified, I ran on. With the help of my pal, the message was delivered. He had helped me do my duty in life and he had still aided me—though dead.

The Morning of the Ypres Big Push