The Longest Day
Refugees have begun to appear in London.
Both the The Birmingham Illustrated News (BIN), and its older, sister publication The Illustrated London News (ILN), both normally weeklies, brought out a special edition. Founded by Herbert Ingram, the ILN had first appeared in 1842. the BIN several decades later.
The BIN leads with: “At 7pm last night the Martians came out of their cylinder, and under the armor of metallic shields, completely wrecked Woking station, the adjacent houses, and massacred an entire battalion of the Cardigan Regiment…
“Maxims have been absolutely useless against their armor; the field-guns have been disabled by them. Flying hussars have been galloping into Chertsey. The Martians appear to be moving slowly towards Chertsey or Windsor…
“Great anxiety prevails in West Surrey, and earthworks are being thrown up to check the advance Londonwards.”
Wells later reports sighting “6 twelve-pounders set up in a field outside Byfleet at this time, pointing towards Woking. The gunners stood motionless by the guns waiting, almost as though ready for inspection. The ammunition wagons at a business-like distance from the guns.”
The normal train schedule has now been abandoned to allow the army to run special trains leading to long queues at all stations.
Wells, with others, races for the safety of the water, ignored for the moment by the Martians, even as a tripod breaches the far bank, and is fired on by a hidden battery of 6 guns.
Wells, later records that: “the first shell bursts 6 yards above the hood. Simultaneously 2 shells burst in the air near the body as the hood twists round in time to receive, but not in time to dodge, the fourth shell…
“The fourth shell bursts clean in the face of the Thing. The hood bulges, flashes, and whirls off in a dozen tattered fragments of red flesh and glittering metal. A spontaneous cheer arises from those watching…
“A violent explosion shakes the air, and a spout of water, steam, mud, and shattered metal shoots far up into the sky. And now a huge wave, like a muddy tidal bore, but scaldingly hot, sweeps down the river…
“Thick clouds of steam pours off the wreckage, and the machine’s gigantic limbs churn the water and fling mud and froth into the air. The tentacles sway and strike like living arms. Enormous quantities of a ruddy-brown fluid are spurting up in noisy jets out of the machine…
“The air is full of sound, a deafening and confusing conflict of noises—the clangorous din of the Martians, the crash of falling houses, the thud of trees, fences, sheds, flashing into flame, and the crackling and roaring of fire…
“Dense black smoke leaps up to mingle with the steam from the river, even as the Martian’s Heat-Ray passes to and fro over Weybridge its impact marked by flashes of incandescent white, that change immediately to lurid flames…
Around Wells: “houses cave in as they dissolve at the heat ray’s touch, and darted out flames; the trees changed to fire with a roar. It flickers up and down the towing-path, licking off the people trying to run…
The edge of the Heat-Ray sweeps down to the water’s edge not 50 yards from where Wells stands, before arching across the river to Shepperton, and the water in its track rises in a boiling wheal crested with steam, scalding those still in the water. And then quiet.
In 1899, Well’s published the first edition of The War of the Worlds via a series of serials in the USA. The American publisher included Goble’s illustrations. In the second and subsequent editions (Book II, Chapter 2) in the middle of dealing with a planet blasted by alien war, Wells takes some time to give a bitchy critique of the war reporter’s illustrations:
I recall particularly the illustration of one of the first pamphlets to give a consecutive account of the war. The artist had evidently made a hasty study of one of the fighting-machines, and there his knowledge ended. He presented them as tilted, stiff tripods, without either flexibility or subtlety, and with an altogether misleading monotony of effect.
The pamphlet containing these renderings had a considerable vogue, and I mention them here simply to warn the reader against the impression they may have created. They were no more like the Martians I saw in action than a Dutch doll is like a human being. To my mind, the pamphlet would have been much better without them.
From the personal log of Lt. Roger Carver, #RoyalMarines HMS Thunder Child, 07 June 1897 14:04 GMT
I could hear the screams of the people crowded on the pier echo across the water as the black smoke fell on them. They cried in terror, trying to escape, some even jumped into the water. As the smoke covered them, their voices began to choke out.
My mouth hung open.