Ghosts in the Great War, and true tales of haunted houses

In Short

This collection gathers true experiences of the paranormal as reported by readers of the Daily News in the mid-1920s. It encompasses two distinct realms: apparitions manifesting during the Great War—often serving as final farewells from soldiers—and lingering hauntings within domestic settings. Through these varied, firsthand testimonies, the book documents a widespread mid-century fascination with the supernatural. It has endured as a primary source of folk history, capturing the anxieties and spiritual wonderings of a generation grappling with the mass loss of life and the mysteries of the human psyche.

The Story

The narrative begins with a formal inquiry into the nature of ghosts, prompted by the editor’s desire to catalog the genuine, often frightening, experiences of his readership. The book functions as an anthology of these submissions, divided between the poignant "signs" from the war front and the unsettling, often inexplicable, phenomena occurring in quiet homes.

In the wartime accounts, the arc is one of tragic recognition. Whether it is a nursery governess seeing her fiancé walk with her on the very day he falls in combat, or a woman hearing her husband call "Hello, Daddy" just as he is being transported home wounded, the pattern is consistent: the apparition acts as a bridge. These ghosts do not haunt in the traditional sense of malevolence; rather, they serve as a spiritual telegram, announcing a death or a moment of crisis across vast distances. The tone here is tender and melancholic, reflecting the immense collective grief of a nation trying to reconcile sudden absence with the lingering sensation of a loved one's presence.

As the focus shifts to "haunted houses," the narrative arc turns from grief to visceral, often chilling, unease. Here, the witnesses encounter entities that occupy physical spaces—the "brown lady," the "headless form" in a Norfolk manor, or the "venerable old gentleman" clutching deeds to a house. Unlike the wartime soldiers, these figures are often bound to the architecture itself. The stories follow a familiar progression: a new occupant moves into an old, often isolated home; they experience anomalous sensory shifts—sudden cold, footsteps, or the sound of doors opening; they attempt to rationalize the events as drafts or pranks; and finally, they are forced to flee when the haunting becomes undeniable or physically oppressive.

The book does not attempt to provide a singular theory to explain these phenomena. Instead, it presents a spectrum of interpretation. Some contributors, like the journalist who felt a "shuddering" soul in a Highland hotel, describe their encounters with psychological precision. Others, including the non-believer who was physically shoved on a dark staircase, describe the terrifying "eyes without a body" with a stark, blunt realism that defies easy dismissal. The collection concludes by offering a cross-section of these experiences, leaving the reader to decide whether these encounters are manifestations of the "coinage of the brain," as Shakespeare suggests, or evidence of a reality that persists after the physical body has failed.

How It Unfolds

The inquiry begins The editor sets the stage by inviting readers to share their encounters, noting that belief in ghosts is surprisingly common among ordinary people. He frames the project not as a scientific treatise, but as a survey of the mysterious agencies that seem to operate where the living dwell.

The war-time apparitions A series of testimonies illustrates how soldiers, often at the moment of their deaths, appear to their families in England. These accounts are marked by a sense of urgency and farewell, serving as a comfort or a warning to those left behind.

The intrusion of the spectral Moving into domestic hauntings, the book details stories of figures appearing in bedrooms and hallways. Witnesses describe feeling overwhelming cold, the sensation of being watched, or the sound of footsteps in rooms that have been locked for years.

The struggle for resolution Contributors share their attempts to confront these spirits, often through prayer or by physically fleeing the property. The narrative highlights the shared frustration of those who seek logical explanations, only to be met with the stubborn persistence of the supernatural.

The final reflection The book closes with stories of inexplicable "evil influences" and persistent figures in old manors. It leaves the reader with a lingering sense of mystery, emphasizing that the reasons behind these visitations remain, for many, entirely beyond human reach.

The People

The "people" in this collection are the anonymous contributors—nurses, soldiers, governesses, and clergymen—who provide the raw material of the book.

• The Witnesses: These individuals are uniformly described as sane, rational, and often skeptical. Their primary desire is simply to understand the reality of what they have seen or felt. The main obstacle they face is the ridicule of their peers and the societal pressure to dismiss their experiences as "nerves" or "nightmare." They end up, in every instance, profoundly changed, carrying a newfound respect for the hidden dimensions of their surroundings.
• The Haunters: Whether it is the soldier in full field equipment or the "headless form" in a brown coat, these figures rarely speak. They are defined by their actions: leaning over a bed, walking down a passage, or simply gazing with "luminous eyes." They are not characters with agency, but rather echoes of past lives—unsettled figures whose presence disrupts the domestic peace of the living.

In Its Own Voice

Regarding the nature of apparitions, one contributor notes:

“I do not believe in ghosts, except as the result of our own imaginations.”

This skeptical framing is used to introduce the idea that the mind often projects its own fears onto the environment.

On the intensity of the experiences, another writes:

“I thought if it went on I should die.”

This conveys the visceral, physical terror described by those who encountered a presence in their own beds.

On the futility of explanation, a final contributor admits:

“This is a most curious incident I now relate, unexplained, and I think that nobody will ever be able to explain it.”

This captures the overarching humility of the writers as they recount events that defy their logical frameworks.

What It's Really About

The book serves as an exploration of the human relationship with the unknown and the persistence of memory. It asks whether our grief, our history, and our deep-seated anxieties can leave a permanent imprint upon a physical space. It does not argue for the existence of ghosts in a spiritualist sense, but rather suggests that the "ghostly" is an inherent part of the human experience. It highlights the tension between the modern desire for a scientific, material world and the stubborn, irrational reality of human perception. Ultimately, it is a document about how we process loss, suggesting that when the mind cannot cope with the finality of death, it creates its own bridge to the other side.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the atmospheric, eerie quality of classic Edwardian and Georgian ghost stories will find much to admire here. It feels like a late-night conversation in a drafty house, where the lack of polish in the writing actually enhances the authenticity of the chills. The book is a fascinating window into the early 20th-century British psyche, particularly in the way it captures the shadow of the Great War.

You should be aware that the book is a product of its time; you will encounter the period’s specific, sometimes rigid, attitudes toward social class and "nerves," and the writing style is distinctly informal, as it relies on the diverse voices of newspaper readers. It is not a cohesive novel, but a collection of fragmented, anecdotal evidence. Those who prefer a structured narrative may find the jump from one story to the next jarring. However, if you enjoy the feeling of looking through a stranger’s diary and discovering secrets that have been kept for a century, the book will stay with you. Its power lies not in polished prose, but in the vulnerability of the witnesses, who are clearly struggling to reconcile their logic with the impossible things they have seen.