It was May 1915, and as the early months of the Great War became bogged down in the horror of the trenches, back in the countryside north west of London a country estate called Harefield Park was being prepared to receive its first casualties.
Five huts had been erected on the elegant green lawns of the estate, and a small group of nurses were busying themselves with moving furniture around and scrubbing floors. Cases and crates full of blankets, pillows and linen were unpacked and distributed and, in less than a week, 80 beds were ready to receive patients. The first eight arrived at Harefield on 2 June 1915. Within weeks, the number of patients had swelled to nearly 400.
Just how did this rural corner of London become home to hundreds of military casualties?
The story behind it is a moving tale of a young woman’s compassion, the generosity of her wealthy family, and a country now inextricably linked with Harefield which lies on the opposite side of the world.
Letitia Billyard-Leake was the daughter of one of Australia’s early European settlers and, when her father died in 1867 when she was just seven, became a wealthy beneficiary. Having travelled to Europe as part of her early upbringing, Letitia decided to move to London to settle permanently with her husband in 1895 – and the place she chose was Harefield.
When World War One broke out 19 years later, various younger members of the Billyard-Leake family joined up, so when the call went out from the Australian government for help accommodating casualties, Letitia’s compassion and her family’s good nature made Harefield Park and its 50 acres of grounds an obvious choice.
Planning began in 1915 and by that summer, hundreds of troops from the Anzac (Australia and New Zealand) corps were being treated in the elegant surroundings of a country home in a picturesque village near London. By that stage in the war, not only was the disastrous Gallipoli campaign underway, eventually causing more than 22,000 casualties and 12,000 deaths in the Anzac forces alone, but chlorine gas had also started to be used.
The wounds suffered by the troops convalescing at Harefield were severe. Many had lost arms or legs, many were blind, many had seen friends die beside them. Their bravery and fortitude was extraordinary. One who was both blind and had lost a leg, was offered a chair but said: “No thank you, Sister, I have one good leg and am quite alright.” Medal ceremonies were held at Harefield, five men being decorated with the highest military honour in September 1915 for their efforts at Gallipoli.
The medical challenges were formidable too. “The large proportion of patients require further surgical aid to correct deformity, restore function, and prevent grave disabilities. The surgical requirements are of a type that will tax the capacity and resources of the most experienced surgeon,” said a report to the Australian High Commissioner in 1915.
Specialist medics from Australia made their focus the new hospital, which by 1916 had 1600 patients, an eye ward, radiography unit, and physiotherapy services. A lot of emphasis was placed on physical rehabilitation – a tradition which remains today, particularly among Harefield’s transplant patients – and there are even grainy photos from the early years of one-legged troops playing cricket in the grounds.
From the start, both the new hospital and the village around it – showed its typical inventiveness, driven by compassion. One of the first ever artificial limb workshops was created at Harefield and local people not only volunteered for – and were employed at – the hospital, but marked every death with a touching local procession. A cockatoo was brought over to entertain the convalescing troops (even though it had an unnerving penchant for imitating artillery fire) and a wallaby, to make the antipodeans feel more at home.
It is estimated that around 50,000 troops were treated over the course of the war in the huts set up with such haste in the summer of 1915, which eventually became known as the First Australian Auxiliary Hospital.
Harefield never really looked back. By the time Letitia passed away in 1923, it had been bought by Middlesex County Council to develop into a sanatorium for that – still – deadliest of diseases, tuberculosis. The familiar ‘double crossbow’ shape was laid out and constructed in the thirties, specifically to catch sunlight and fresh air for patients, and the Harefield we largely know today was created.
The hospital, and the graveyard at St Mary’s church, are still a focus for Anzac commemorations, particularly Anzac Day on 25 April each year, being the day that the Gallipoli campaign was launched.
Both Letitia and her husband are also buried at St Mary’s, along with her daughter and daughter-in-law. Even in death, it seems they could not bear to be far from the place they made their home and which their compassion made the resting place for so many of their fellow countrymen.