Miniature Medals

A very rare Great War ‘Immediate’ A.R.R.C. group of four awarded to Nursing Sister Alice Meldrum, Queen Alexandra’s Imperial Military Nursing Service Reserve, awarded for the sinking of the Hospital Ship Anglia in 1915

Royal Red Cross, R.R.C., G.V.R., 2nd class, in silver and enamels; 1914-15 Star (S./Nurse, Q.A.I.M.N.S.R.); British War and Victory Medals, with M.I.D. oak leaf (Sister); together with uniform tippet, in grey cloth with red facings, Q.A.I.M.N.S.R. Medal, in silver, hallmarks for Birmingham 1915 stitched to right side, ribbons for Great War trio stitched to left side; engraved silver identity bracelet; two original photographs of recipient; and an eight page published account of her experiences with the Q.A.I.M.N.S.R. between May and November 1915, nearly extremely fine (6) £1200-1500

R.R.C., 2nd Class London Gazette 17 March 1916. ‘....valuable services and devotion to duty on the occasion of the loss of the Hospital Ship Anglia on the 17th November 1915.’

M.I.D. London Gazette 6 September 1918. ‘..... valuable services rendered on the occasion of the sinking or damage by enemy action of Hospital Ships, Transports and Store Ships.’

Alice Meldrum joined Q.A.I.M.N.S.R. in December 1914, serving as a Staff Nurse aboard the Hospital Ship Anglia from 7 July 1915. She was serving aboard the Anglia when this ship conveyed King George V from Boulogne to Dover after he had been injured whilst visiting the British lines. This was the last time that the Anglia would ever return safely to this port, as on its next voyage, whilst just a few miles off Dover she struck a mine and sank. A total of 5 officers, 128 men and 1 Nursing Sister were lost.

The following is extracted from Alice Meldrum’s published account of the incident, a copy of which is included with the lot: ‘Our last and very memorable journey was on the 17th November; we had taken on board at Boulogne about 500 patients, and a very happy crowd they were, for many of them were fractured femurs and head cases, who had been in different hospitals in France some months, and in their anticipation of returning home, were anxiously on the look out through the port-holes for the white cliffs of old England; alas! many of them were destined never to reach there alive. About 12 (noon), and when some six miles from Dover, we had just given the patients their dinner, when their was a tremendous crash, and iron girders, etc., came falling down like matchwood, we realised all to quickly that we had either been torpedoed or struck a mine.



My first act was to fix a life-belt on myself, feeling that I was then in a better position to help others; all Sisters and Orderlies did likewise, and the patients who were able to do so were ordered to put on theirs (every patient had a life-belt under their pillow), and walking cases were ordered on deck. We immediately set about removing splints, for the obvious reason that if the patient with his leg in splints got into the sea, his body would go under, while the splint would rise to the surface. We carried as many as possible on deck, and those that could throw themselves into the sea; others were let down in the lifeboat, but unfortunately it was only possible to lower one boat, as the ship was sinking so rapidly. The patients kept their heads wonderfully, there was no panic whatever, and when one realises that in the vast majority of cases they were suffering from fractured limbs, severe wounds, and amputations, it speaks volumes for their spirit, their grit and real bravery, for they must have suffered agonies of pain. After we had satisfied ourselves that there was no possible chance of getting any more patients out, for by that time our bows had quite gone under, and only the ship’s stern was above water, with the propellers going at a terrific rate and blinding us with spray, we then got down on to the rudder and jumped into the sea, where hundreds of patients were still struggling in the water.

It was some time before the destroyers could get out to help us, but when they did, boats were quickly lowered and we were taken into them; unfortunately, in some cases, the struggling patients held onto the sides of a boat and capsized it and once again we were thrown into the sea. Alas! by this time many of the patients had gone under; but it was a never-to-be-forgotten sight to see armless and legless men struggling in the water, very many of whom were eventually saved. I personally was about 40 minutes in the water before being taken on a destroyer, and that would be about the time experienced by most of us; our relief can be readily understood, and never shall we forget the men on the destroyers, whose kindness and helpfulness was beyond words.’

Sold with a quantity of copied research material, much relating to her request that her Royal Red Cross be personally presented by the King. This request was eventually granted, and her R.R.C. was awarded to her at a special private audience with King George V on 10 February 1922.