Lieutenant Roger Carver
Lt. Roger Carver commanded HMS Thunder Child’s Royal Marine (Light Infantry) detachment during those crucial days in June 1897.
While no individual photograph of Lt. Carver exists, we were able to locate a photograph in “Black and White, November 13th, 1896,” titled the “Portsmouth Division Royal Marine Light Infantry – Winners of the Cup”, with both Lt Carver, and then Colour Sgt Howard in the front row. Lt Carver is on the left, Colour Sgt. Howard on the right. Lt Carver transfered to HMS #ThunderChild 2 months later, where he was joined by Sergeant Howard in March 1897, following the Colour Sergeant’s demotion.
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.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:57 GMT
Like a knife, Thunder Child’s bow slid into legs of the first tripod, causing it to tumble into the water. Smoke pouring from its stack, the battleship plowed forward into the legs of the second Martian, which scarcely had time to react.
From the personal log of Lt. Roger Carver, #RoyalMarines HMS Thunder Child, 15 June 1897, 11:00 GMT:
We arrived at Tilbury to find the Ferry tied up at the quay and covered with dead bodies: men, women and children all bundled together. They looked strangely peaceful. Every surface is covered with a fine black dust that clings uneasily to one’s skin.
All the men – Marines, Horse Guards, and infantry – worked as one to quickly remove the bodies before placing them in a single shallow grave. I spoke the simple words of commitment and promised resurrection. Words held back from those who had shot for desertion only 6 days before.
Corporal Markinson, who served in the engine room before transferring to the marines, assures me the ferry should work once we have relit her boiler. With a pump and hose, we’ve cleared much of the black dust off the boat. After the horrors of the past few days, this is welcome news.
From the personal log of Lt. Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 17 June 1897, 11:00 GMT:
Our ranks continue to grow. Outside of Betchworth, resting in a glade, we found a 12-pounder gun, with its horses, limber, and ammunition wagon. According to the gun’s crew they were part of a masked Royal Horse Artillery battery that failed to stop the Martians east of London.
“We managed to save ourselves before the Black Smoke took the horses, sir,” said their sergeant. He seemed embarrassed to be among the living. “We’ve been in concealment ever since.”
“I understand.” I looked them up and down. “Up for a little revenge?”
The artillerymen all nodded grimly.
We continued our ride northwest, skirting around dead London in the moonlight. Passing through a freight yard outside of Dorking, we halted. Ahead stood a Martian silhouetted above the rooftops, scanning the horizon. We all held our breaths until it moved towards the east.
“We must be getting close, sir,” said Sergeant Howard, watching the Martian move into the distance.
“We’ll get our fill of them soon,” I said. “We’ll be in Woking tomorrow.”
Howard nodded. “I’ll see to the men, then.”
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 19 June 1897, 11:00 GMT:
I stood at table with a map of Woking, and the Martian position in the Horsell Common sandpit. Maxim tapped the map with a red grease pencil, drawing a circle around the enemy position. “This is about where I began to feel that odd sensation, I told you about.”
“You’re certain that the tower the Martians built is the cause of it? Lieutenant Mann asked.
“I am,” said Maxim.
“We may not agree on everything,” I said, “but we agree that tower must be destroyed.”
“I’m more concerned about the Black Smoke,” said Sergeant Howard.
“I may have an answer for that,” said Maxim, producing a crude fabric hood with eyeholes made from glass. “Before wireless transmission from Birmingham was cut off due to the tower’s interference, the government broadcast specifications for these masks. I understand your artillery were provided with a set.”
Mann picked up the mask. He shook his head. “This will protect us?”
“I’ve made improvements, including a charcoal filter to increase its effectiveness,” Maxim assured us.
I remembered how the people of Shearness and Tilbury died wholesale from the smoke. “Do we have enough for us all?”
Maxim nodded. “Persephone and some of your men spent a few hours this morning making them.”
“Make sure everyone is issued with one,” I turned to Howard.
“We’ll need something for the horses,” said Lieutenant Mann.
“Persephone’s already thought of that,” Maxim said.
“It’s an adaption of the basic mask,” Persephone said. “It fits quite snugly There’ll be enough.”
Sergeant, how are the men?”
“We now have two Maxim guns with ammunition. The 12-pounder has 20 rounds of high explosive.”
“Be sure to site your artillery piece here,” said Maxim, pointing to where the map indicated a wooded area that overlooked the Martians. “It will be in range there.”
“The men are rested and ready to go,” said Howard. “It’s this business about the flying machine I’m not sure of.”
“Sergeant,” said Maxim, “please be assured my machine will fly. “
“Then tomorrow we attack,” I said. “Action will commence at 0800 with a single green flare.”
I looked over at Farmer asleep on the cot. He stirred gently. I doubt he heard us at all.