Open/Close Toolbox
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 New Zealand License
Format: Event
Linked To
Collection
Copyright

This licence lets you remix, tweak, and build upon our work noncommercially and although your new works must also acknowledge us and be noncommercial, you do not have to license the derivative works on the same terms.
Menu
- People
- Places
- Themes
- Surprise Me
Sacrifice of NZ nurses in World War One
Description
NameSacrifice of NZ nurses in World War OneDescriptionThis time of shared national confinement leading up to Anzac Day gives us an opportunity to reflect on the sacrifices New Zealanders made during the First World War of 1914-1918. We can get a greater appreciation of the personal loss when we read of the experiences for individual families and the price they paid for service to ‘King and Country'.
One such example of this is the Abbott family of ‘Clifton', Southbridge. The year 1915 proved tragic for the widowed mother, Isabella Abbott, who had four of her adult children serving in the New Zealand Expeditionary Force overseas. By the end of that year two of her sons serving in the Canterbury Mounted Rifles had lost their lives: Ameral Abbott had died of Enteric Fever in Egypt in May and George Abbott was killed in action at Gallipoli in August. A third son, Charles, was serving in the Auckland Mounted Rifles at this time but managed to survive the campaigns in Egypt and Palestine.
However, that year Mrs Abbott came very close to suffering further loss when her daughter, Fanny, was a passenger on a ship that was torpedoed and sunk in the Mediterranean Sea.
Fanny was one of 515 nurses who volunteered for overseas service in the New Zealand Army Nursing Service during the war, of which 12 were to lose their lives. Nurses proved an integral part of the New Zealand Expeditionary Force, but their sacrifice has been overshadowed and sometimes forgotten due to the huge loss of lives to our soldiers, sailors and airmen.
It was with the sinking of the SS Marquette near Salonika, Greece, on 23 October 1915 that led to the greatest loss of life for the Nursing Service during the war. Of the 35 nurses of the NZ No.1 Stationary Hospital on board the ship, 10 drowned, including three from Canterbury; Nona Hildyard, Lorna Rattray and Margaret Rogers.
This incident was contentious in that it was argued the staff should have been travelling on the clearly marked British hospital ship, Grantully Castle, which had left Alexandria empty for Salonika the same day as the Marquette. As a result of this incident the New Zealand government requested the War Office in London to ensure that the subsequent transfer of New Zealand medical staff by sea would be made on designated hospital ships.
Three days after the tragedy Fanny wrote home to her mother letting her know she was safe, describing her experience during the sinking. At this stage of the war it was common for letters to families to be published in local papers as a way of providing communities with a greater understanding of the ordeals of overseas service during the war.
In January 1916 extracts from her letter were published in the Ellesmere Guardian, and this showed how close Mrs Abbott came to losing a third child in the war:
‘Well, here I am on board this hospital ship (HMHS Grantully Castle), safe and well as can be expected, except for scratches and bruises and a whole bit stiff, but thankful to be alive. We are only allowed to say so much.
The ship was torpedoed at 9.05 a.m. on October 23rd. I was in the bathroom and was only partly dressed. There was no mistaking the knock was from anything but a torpedo. Made a wild rush for the cabin for a lifebelt, at which we had had two practices and lucky for us we had each been given one. I did not wait to finish dressing but put on my dress on the way to the cabin. I thought of the ‘Royal Edward’ and the three minutes it took to go down and did not wait to save anything – even my watch and money belt had to be left behind.
Most of us were in the water at 9.15. The boats were lowered in a sort of way, but the crews were so panic stricken that they were absolutely useless. One boat got away safely with Colonel McGavin and about fifty men. The officers who were with us called to the men, “Get out of that boat and play the man,” and they very foolishly got out, but it was too late, the ship went too quickly.
I slid down a rope into a boat, along with Popplewell and Rattray, and this boat crashed on top of some sisters in the next boat. I jumped into the water and called to the other two to do the same, but they stuck to it, although one end was half under water.
I swam out a few yards and caught a floating lifebelt, but could not get far owing to the suction, and I could see the huge keel of the ship towering above me and thought I would never clear it. However, I did get clear and paddled about on my own – thought I was better there than going back.
I was just about done after an hour when a R.A.M.C (Royal Army Medical Corps) boy caught me by the waist and said, “Here sister, I must save you.” He held me for about half-an-hour, then we struck a raft and to this I held on.
We gradually collected a few more drifters and altogether we were about sixteen. We kept two poor stewards: hauled them on to the rafts and had to let them go about an hour before help arrived. They passed away from exhaustion, poor things. One had a wife and tried to give us a message at the last, but we could not catch it.
We were all under water up to our armpits, except the two boys sitting on the raft, who were supporting two sick ones, and they were waist-deep in water, so you can imagine how far the raft was under water.
I could not see a sign of any of the other girls and thought they could not possibly have held out, but here we all are, all but ten of us. Nine of the nurses (myself included) were picked up at 4.40 p.m. by a patrol boat, H.M.S Lynn, and we shall never forget the kindness shown to us.
In all 150 survivors were picked up. Of course, we all regret having lost everything, but we are glad so many lives were saved. A good many of the girls had a very bad time – caught hold of boats which turned over and over and kept going under. Three Christchurch girls were lost.
It was just like pictures of the Lusitania and Empress of Ireland disasters. The wireless operator was with us and sent out a message, but evidently no one got it.
Oh, it was a dreadful time. A feeling came over me that I must let go, but the help I received from a boy – brave lad – and the thought of you gave me renewed strength.
We don’t know what we are to do, for we have no hospital and no money, but, as Major Acland says, New Zealand will not see us stuck.’
Fanny Abbott showed great strength in surviving over seven hours in the water and continued to serve overseas, mostly on hospital ships, until early 1919. She got married in Sydney in 1921.
The Nurses’ Memorial Chapel at Christchurch Hospital commemorates the three Christchurch nurses who lost their lives during the sinking of the Marquette.
Pictured right: Fanny Abbott in a Sand cart, Egypt 1915DateOctober 1915
One such example of this is the Abbott family of ‘Clifton', Southbridge. The year 1915 proved tragic for the widowed mother, Isabella Abbott, who had four of her adult children serving in the New Zealand Expeditionary Force overseas. By the end of that year two of her sons serving in the Canterbury Mounted Rifles had lost their lives: Ameral Abbott had died of Enteric Fever in Egypt in May and George Abbott was killed in action at Gallipoli in August. A third son, Charles, was serving in the Auckland Mounted Rifles at this time but managed to survive the campaigns in Egypt and Palestine.
However, that year Mrs Abbott came very close to suffering further loss when her daughter, Fanny, was a passenger on a ship that was torpedoed and sunk in the Mediterranean Sea.
Fanny was one of 515 nurses who volunteered for overseas service in the New Zealand Army Nursing Service during the war, of which 12 were to lose their lives. Nurses proved an integral part of the New Zealand Expeditionary Force, but their sacrifice has been overshadowed and sometimes forgotten due to the huge loss of lives to our soldiers, sailors and airmen.
It was with the sinking of the SS Marquette near Salonika, Greece, on 23 October 1915 that led to the greatest loss of life for the Nursing Service during the war. Of the 35 nurses of the NZ No.1 Stationary Hospital on board the ship, 10 drowned, including three from Canterbury; Nona Hildyard, Lorna Rattray and Margaret Rogers.
This incident was contentious in that it was argued the staff should have been travelling on the clearly marked British hospital ship, Grantully Castle, which had left Alexandria empty for Salonika the same day as the Marquette. As a result of this incident the New Zealand government requested the War Office in London to ensure that the subsequent transfer of New Zealand medical staff by sea would be made on designated hospital ships.
Three days after the tragedy Fanny wrote home to her mother letting her know she was safe, describing her experience during the sinking. At this stage of the war it was common for letters to families to be published in local papers as a way of providing communities with a greater understanding of the ordeals of overseas service during the war.
In January 1916 extracts from her letter were published in the Ellesmere Guardian, and this showed how close Mrs Abbott came to losing a third child in the war:
‘Well, here I am on board this hospital ship (HMHS Grantully Castle), safe and well as can be expected, except for scratches and bruises and a whole bit stiff, but thankful to be alive. We are only allowed to say so much.
The ship was torpedoed at 9.05 a.m. on October 23rd. I was in the bathroom and was only partly dressed. There was no mistaking the knock was from anything but a torpedo. Made a wild rush for the cabin for a lifebelt, at which we had had two practices and lucky for us we had each been given one. I did not wait to finish dressing but put on my dress on the way to the cabin. I thought of the ‘Royal Edward’ and the three minutes it took to go down and did not wait to save anything – even my watch and money belt had to be left behind.
Most of us were in the water at 9.15. The boats were lowered in a sort of way, but the crews were so panic stricken that they were absolutely useless. One boat got away safely with Colonel McGavin and about fifty men. The officers who were with us called to the men, “Get out of that boat and play the man,” and they very foolishly got out, but it was too late, the ship went too quickly.
I slid down a rope into a boat, along with Popplewell and Rattray, and this boat crashed on top of some sisters in the next boat. I jumped into the water and called to the other two to do the same, but they stuck to it, although one end was half under water.
I swam out a few yards and caught a floating lifebelt, but could not get far owing to the suction, and I could see the huge keel of the ship towering above me and thought I would never clear it. However, I did get clear and paddled about on my own – thought I was better there than going back.
I was just about done after an hour when a R.A.M.C (Royal Army Medical Corps) boy caught me by the waist and said, “Here sister, I must save you.” He held me for about half-an-hour, then we struck a raft and to this I held on.
We gradually collected a few more drifters and altogether we were about sixteen. We kept two poor stewards: hauled them on to the rafts and had to let them go about an hour before help arrived. They passed away from exhaustion, poor things. One had a wife and tried to give us a message at the last, but we could not catch it.
We were all under water up to our armpits, except the two boys sitting on the raft, who were supporting two sick ones, and they were waist-deep in water, so you can imagine how far the raft was under water.
I could not see a sign of any of the other girls and thought they could not possibly have held out, but here we all are, all but ten of us. Nine of the nurses (myself included) were picked up at 4.40 p.m. by a patrol boat, H.M.S Lynn, and we shall never forget the kindness shown to us.
In all 150 survivors were picked up. Of course, we all regret having lost everything, but we are glad so many lives were saved. A good many of the girls had a very bad time – caught hold of boats which turned over and over and kept going under. Three Christchurch girls were lost.
It was just like pictures of the Lusitania and Empress of Ireland disasters. The wireless operator was with us and sent out a message, but evidently no one got it.
Oh, it was a dreadful time. A feeling came over me that I must let go, but the help I received from a boy – brave lad – and the thought of you gave me renewed strength.
We don’t know what we are to do, for we have no hospital and no money, but, as Major Acland says, New Zealand will not see us stuck.’
Fanny Abbott showed great strength in surviving over seven hours in the water and continued to serve overseas, mostly on hospital ships, until early 1919. She got married in Sydney in 1921.
The Nurses’ Memorial Chapel at Christchurch Hospital commemorates the three Christchurch nurses who lost their lives during the sinking of the Marquette.
Pictured right: Fanny Abbott in a Sand cart, Egypt 1915DateOctober 1915
Connections
CollectionSoldiers of Selwyn World War One
Attribution
Researched ByWayne StackTaken FromSelwyn Times
Sacrifice of NZ nurses in World War One (October 1915). Selwyn Stories, accessed 17/02/2025, https://selwynstories.selwynlibraries.co.nz/nodes/view/3431