Humanity is on the run
The Martians continued to press their attack on London as the army’s Kingston and Richmond defences threaten to collapse under the impact of the black-smoke, and portions of the fleet mutiny.
In London, as the police go door-to-door encouraging everyone to evacuate, Toni and her fellow suffragists decide to stay to provide what help they can, even as law-and-order slowly breaks down around them.
Morant’s mother and her girls join him as he has decided to stay in London to fight for and protect refugees. To assist this glorious calling Morant decides to promote himself to Colonel and obtains additional supplies for what is becoming a growing militia based in the Underground’s newly completed Waterloo station.
At Tilbury Fort Lieutenant Dullanty manages to secure mounts and sufficient rations and ammunition to last his 2 platoons 5 days in the field, as well as several boxes of dynamite.
Telegram to All Staff-South Eastern Railway facilities, from Sir Henry Cosmo Bonsor, Chairman.
ALL RAILWAY FACILITITIES NORTH OF THE THAMES INCL SER STAFF AT CANNON STREET MUST PREPARE FOR AN IMMEDIATE EVACUATION OF LONDON – TRAINS ARE ALREADY BEING FILLED AND SENT NORTH ENDS
And now a 5th cylinder, like some brilliant green meteor, crashes to Earth near Bushey Park.
Woken by #loudnoise and #light Came from the direction of #BusheyPark Could it be the #Martians? #heartpounding Checked emergency stores again. Got dressed. Sleeping in #dividedskirts
In Wells accounts, he describes the Martians spreading the black, stifling vapor over the Londonward country as methodically as men might smoke out a wasps’ nest. The horns of the crescent slowly spreading apart, until they form a line from Hanwell to Coombe and Maiden.
The Martian’s have learnt since St. Georges Hill and never give the artillery a chance to repeat their earlier success. Wherever there was a possibility of hidden guns being laid, a canister of the black vapor is discharged, and where visible the Heat-Ray is brought to bear.
The slopes of Richmond Park and Kingston Hill are ablaze, the flames throwing their light upon a network of black smoke, which blots out the whole Valley of the Thames and extends as far as Wells can see.
It is now, for the first time, that he sights two Martians slowly wading through the smoke, turning their hissing steam-jets this way and that to clear the smoke.
In London, police begin to going door-to-door, waking people and warning them that “the Martians are coming!” In the background and the chaos the bells of every church in London make a jangling tumult.
At Euston Station fights breakout as people fight savagely for standing-room in the carriages.
Carriages and vehicles clog the roads as they head to Chalk Farm Station, where the North-Western special trains were loading up, instead of coming down the gradient into Euston.
The Chronicle brings out its last newspaper, a single-sheet display-insert.
“London in danger of suffocation!
Kingston and Richmond defences forced!
Fearful massacres in the Thames Valley!”
In Wells’ word: “Its dawn now and as the black vapor pours through the streets of Richmond and the government begins to disintegrate – it, with one last expiring effort, rouses the population of London to the necessity of flight.”
Telegram from Commander in Chief Field Marshal Wolseley to all London newspapers:
CinC telegram reads: “THE MARTIANS ARE ABLE TO DISCHARGE ENORMOUS CLOUDS OF A BLACK AND POISONOUS VAPOR BY MEANS OF ROCKETS STOP THEY HAVE SMOTHERED OUR BATTERIES DESTROYED RICHMOND KINGSTON AND WIMBLEDON AND ARE ADVANCING SLOWLY TOWARDS LONDON…
CinC telegram cont: “DESTROYING EVERYTHING ON THE WAY STOP IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO STOP THEM STOP THERE IS NO SAFETY FROM THE BLACK SMOKE BUT IN INSTANT FLIGHT ENDS”
Woken in the night by loud noises.
Police order us to evacuate London.
Woken by @londonbobbys going door to door. #evacuationorders #blacksmoke #suffocationrisk #whatelsearetheynottellingus
And now the whole population of the great six-million city is stirring, slipping, running; to pour northward en masse.
Counsel with @graceharwoodstewart and @lizcadbury Decided to stay. @londonbobbys say #blacksmoke is heavy. #wearefrightenedbutdetermined #someonemusthelp #blacksmokewarnings
Lots of activity on #Thames. Boats and ships all over the place. People are in the streets, streaming away from #London
Had breakfast, made plans. @lizcadbury will stay here. @graceharwoodstewart and I will venture out to provide aid. #crowdsgrowingfast #injuriesoutsideourdoors @londonbobbys trying hard to maintain order
Brown has been talking to refugees. He says the Martians are eating us. Brown reckons this isn’t a war – it’s colonisation. Not comforting!
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 08 June 1897 09:15 GMT
Arrived off Thames Estuary. Waters are busy with civilian shipping of all manner. Light cloud cover, seas moderate, winds from the northeast, 16 mph. Channel Squadron under Admiral Sir Walter Kerr on HMS Majestic, reinforced by elements of Atlantic Squadron, steaming in line ahead close to shore. Continued wireless interference.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, #RoyalMarines, #Thunder Child, 08 June 1897 09:19 GMT
I joined Farmer on the bridge that morning as we entered the great estuary. Captain Allenby appeared on the bridge briefly. He has remained in his sea cabin for much of our time since the battle. When he does emerge, it seems only to brood.
By 10AM co-ordination by the London police is beginning to lose coherency, guttering, softening, and running at last in that swift liquefaction of the social body. @HGWells
3 people have been reported trampled and crushed in Bishopsgate Street, only a couple of hundred yards, from Liverpool Street station. Revolvers have been fired, people stabbed, and the police exhausted and infuriated, are turning on those they were called to protect.
Engine-drivers and stokers are now refusing to return to London, even as the pressure of the flight drives the people in an ever-thickening mass away from the stations and along the northward-running roads.
A Martian is sighted at Barnes, even as a cloud of the slowly sinking black vapor drives along the Thames, cutting off all escape over the bridges to the south, and surrounding a little island of survivors on Castle Hill, alive, but unable to escape.
A Martian is sighted entering London, even as a thinning remnant of the black vapor has appeared between the arches of Blackfriars Bridge.
London Pool appears a scene of mad confusion, fighting, and collision. Boats and barges are jammed in the northern arch of the Tower Bridge, their crew defending themselves against those who swarm upon them from the river front, or who clamber down the bridges piers from above.
#filthy #exhaustedalready #hopewehaveenoughsupplies #thankheavensforpockets #panic #trainsfailing #guns #crushinjuries #death #childrenhavedied #amIreallyhelping @londonbobbys have lost control
Resting at #QueenAnnesMansions #chaos #crowds #toomanyboatsontheThames
#blacksmoke to the east. We can see it from the windows. Looks to be near #BlackfriarsBridge #fear #toocloseforcomfort
Saw my first #Martian on the #horizon. Was looking out the window trying not to cry #silhouetteonthehorizon #tripods #whereisthegovernment? #whereisthearmy? #afraid
Saw my first #Martian on the #horizon. Was looking out the window trying not to cry #silhouetteonthehorizon #tripods #whereisthegovernment? #whereisthearmy? #afraid
What do we do if #Martians use #blacksmoke here?
@hgwellsbro where are you? #despair
Brown hatches a plan to go to Waterloo Station to assist the refugees in leaving. He says that if we kill Martians, they’ll send more. If we stop them from being able to survive here, they will stop coming. I tell him the only thing the Martians will understand is rule 303.
The Curies hear Brown’s plan and think he’s brilliant. Vogan agrees, says that stealing sheep in Victoria was the most successful campaign against English colonisation. I tell him that:
(a) it didn’t work, and
(b) English colonialists are not fucking Martians.
Mother and her girls join us. We have decided to stay in London to fight for and protect refugees.
I find a Colonel’s fusilier uniform. It fits me so well we decide I need a promotion. The promotion and the uniform make it easier to swing additional supplies, evoking a compliance to my authority that we need for our growing militia.
It is suspected that the supplies Morant mentions were from the Tower of London, which at that time served as the arsenal of the Royal Regiment of Fusiliers. Although how he managed the feat has never been explained. However, the Fusiliers had been positioned east of London to try and hold the London defences against the Martians which would have made a raid easier.
By 2PM the Thames is deserted as a Martian appears beyond the Clock Tower and wades down the river, with nothing but wreckage floating above Limehouse to greet it.
Brown takes a small group to put up detour signs to funnel the refugees into the subways to get them to the other side of London without Martians trapping them on the bridges.
I recruit men to be lookouts. We can’t use bells, as the Martians turn their heat guns on them when they ring.
Seeing the heat ray weapon I realize now how useless our own weapons are in comparison.
Vogan is responsible for setting up our headquarters.
Mother and Curies start scavenging for food.
Populace is terrified. #refugees #toofrightenedtothink We are sitting tight, saving our energy for when it’s really bad. #canitgetworse?
The flow of refugees builds, and Vogan starts recruiting able bodies to help people move faster. He dubs us the Waterloo Militia.
We must work out how to keep people safe when they run out of the tunnel.
Brown finds a pigeon handler. He can now scout an escape route for those still attempting to flee London and communicate it back.
By now, the boiling stream of people escaping London has reached Barnet. A torrent of human beings all rushing north, one pressing on another. Wells describes a great bank of dust, white and luminous in the blaze of the sun, making everything within 20 feet of the ground gray and indistinct.
#blacksmoke #whydidwestay? #arewereallygoingtohelp?
Wells and the Curate, imprisoned by the Black Smoke in a deserted house in Upper Halliford have just been released by the dispersal of the Black Smoke by a Martian, who fails to noticed them.
Spent most of the day securing mounts and ensuring everyone has sufficient rations and ammunition to last 5 days in the field. Stumbled on several boxes of dynamite, and while Sergeant Dunleavy was out securing the mounts I demonstrated its use to the rest of the unit. I can see why Papa raves about it. Bit short on fuses though.
@lizcadbury is inspiring. #wearesafeonfloor10 @lizcadbury reminded me that #survivors will rewrite history. And that #weareheretohelp #nomatterwhat #wehaveaplan
We watched #blacksmoke trickle past. It #flowslikewater but stays low. #safeonfloorten But who else is safe?
For those still attempting to leave London, the steep foot of Haverstock Hill is now impassable owing to several overturned wagons, some with their horses still in their traces. The road through Edgware on the way to St Albans is crowded, and remains barely passable.
Eye witnesses report Edgware as a scene of utter confusion as almost London’s whole population flees the Martians.
Carts and carriages crowd close upon one another, making little way for those swifter and more impatient vehicles that dart forward whenever possible. Beside them, on the margins, are those on foot, threatened by the wheels, stumbling in the ditches, blundering into one another.
Sad, haggard women tramp by, well dressed, with children who cry and stumble, their dainty clothes smothered in dust, their weary faces smeared with tears. And all with pain on their faces, and fear behind them.
The walker’s skins are dry, their lips black and cracked. By now everyone is thirsty, weary, and footsore.
This is no disciplined march; it is a stampede — a stampede gigantic and terrible — without order and without a goal, six million people, unarmed and unprovisioned, driving headlong. In Wells’ words: “It is the beginning of the rout of civilization, of the massacre of mankind.”
And behind them The Martians calmly and methodically continue to spread their poison-cloud over the country round London, laying it again with their steam-jets when it had served its purpose, and taking possession of the country.
#tripods now in central #London #blacksmoke #kills #death #tryingtostaycalm @graceharwoodstewart says we need to figure out how to #survive the #blacksmoke
Colonel Dunn VC Ret., in his Memories of the Great Martian War records his dawning realisation that “the Martian’s did not seek extermination – so much as demoralization and the destruction of any opposition.”
Col. Dunn continues: “In pursuit of this they exploded any stores of powder they come upon, cut every telegraph, and wrecked the railways. And though we don’t know their thought, it appears obvious they were intent on hamstringing mankind.”
How do we #survive the #blacksmoke when we don’t know what it is?
Wells and the Curate are just crossing Richmond Bridge. As they do Wells notices, floating down the stream a number of red masses, some many feet across. This may be the first sighting of the red-weed.
Approaching Kew with the Curate, Wells sees 4 or 5 little black figures running across a field, pursued by a Martian. Catching up with them it picks them up one by one and tosses them into a metallic carrier on the back of its hood.
Reminded myself to #inventory the supplies. Restocked #pockets. Cleaned myself up. Still #afraid. Still #determined Still #wanttohelp #wishIknewhow
@lizcadbury is sensible. Reminded us to rest so we can #figurestuffout tomorrow. Too hard in the #dark. Not sure I can #sleep. #fear. #fatigue.
It is 11pm and Wells and the Curate have decided to camp overnight in Sheen, which though deserted appears to have escaped destruction.
As Wells and the Curate finish their meal in Sheen, although the Curate has barely eaten, there is a blinding glare of vivid green light, followed by an enormous concussion and as the ceiling caves in on them Wells is knocked unconscious.
It is now that another cylinder, the 6th, falls in the vicinity of Sheen, creating a crater outside the house occupied by Wells and the Curate, destroying half the building. Wells and the curate survive but are now trapped by the Martians.
As the British government flees to Birmingham and London panics, Wells becomes trapped with the curate in a house in Sheen, when the 6th Martian cylinder lands next door, collapsing the building on top of them.
Today the government establishes the #Gascoyne-Cecil-Line which follows the Great Western Railway’s mainline from London to Bristol, and we catch up with Lt Carver on board HMS Thunder Child who is tasked with assisting with the Queen’s evacuation to France.
We meet the inventor Hiram Maxim (the inventor of the Maxim Machine Gun) who is watching the Woking Pit where the Martians have erected a massive tower. And Sir J Dullanty (chemist, engineer, inventor, and philanthropist) whose Scottish estate (Rotch Wood) abutted Balmoral enters the story for the first time.
For Toni, today is a day of fear, tears, and emotional fatigue. Toni is a strong independent woman, but even the strongest must acknowledge their fears.
Woke early, felt a little better and more hopeful this morning. Can’t believe I #slept. @lizcadbury is down the hall checking on @sirjohntheengineer He’s old, but #clever. She reckons he might have some #ideas. He did build the railways…
FROM GENERAL SIR STEPHENSON STOP
TO: LT. JAMES DULLANTY NO 4 COY SPEC OPS STOP
WE HAVE LOST LONDON STOP THE ARMY IS FORMING A NEW LINE ALONG THE GWR MAINLINE TO BRISTOL STOP IT IS VITAL YOU OBTAIN INFORMATION ON THE MARTIANS AND THEIR CAPABILITIES STOP AS DISCUSSED ALL INFORMATION TO BE PROVIDED TO OUR RESEARCH FACILITIES AT THE ROTCH WOOD ESTATE ENDS
We have had two stampedes in the tunnel.
Started a breakfast handover.
We station more guides to keep the refugees moving through the tunnels.
Brown has got hold of thousands of Union Jack Flags that would have been used for the Diamond Jubilee. We can use them to indicate safe passages and to wave refugees through.
With half the government now gathered at Birmingham, the Government orders the military to hold the Martians to the south of the newly established #Gascoyne-Cecil-Line, named after the then PM who drew the line on a map following the GWR’s mainline from London to Bristol.
Recognising the importance of Swindon to the national rail network, the CinC Field Marshal Wolseley moves to reinforce Swindon, Didcot and other towns along ‘the Line’, and orders enormous quantities of high explosives to be prepared to be used in automatic mines across the Midland counties.
FROM GENERAL SIR STEPHENSON STOP
TO: JAMES DULLANTY
BE AWARE THAT YOUR GODMOTHER IS ON ROUTE TO BRADWELL-ON-SEA WITH SMALL ESCORT STOP PLEASE PROVIDE ADDITIONAL PERIMETER SECURITY STOP
STEPHENSON ENDS
Oh joy, a visit from ‘Aunt Vicky’. Bradwell-On-Sea is 12 hours away. At least we’ve managed to get both platoons mounted, and everyone has now been introduced to the dynamite. Still can’t locate additional fuses – typical SNAFU.
From the personal log of Lt. Roger Carver, #RoyalMarines HMS Thunder Child, 09 June 1897 10:25 GMT
Thunder Child plowed serenely through the water. Shipping of sort slipped around us. Everything from giant three-funnelled ocean liners to simple fishing smacks jockeyed for position, trying to close into the beach and piers to take off as many of the poor souls as possible who were crowded onshore.
From the personal log of Lt. Roger Carver, #RoyalMarines HMS Thunder Child, 08 June 1897 10:25 GMT
“Flag hoist from the Majestic, sir,” reported the lookout.
I raised my glasses and read the string of signal flags fluttering in the stiff breeze from the flagship’s mast. “Report to the captain at once,” I said to the young midshipman beside me, “It seems we’re being summoned aboard.”
From the personal log of Lt. Roger Carver, #RoyalMarines HMS Thunder Child, 09 June 1897 10:41 GMT
Captain Allenby and I stepped from Thunder Child’s whaleboat onto the first rung of rope ladder that led up to Majestic’s deck, piped aboard by the bosun’s whistle.
From the personal log of Lt. Roger Carver, #RoyalMarines HMS Thunder Child, 09 June 1897 10:44 GMT
…I found it odd. Despite what they had heard, the crew seemed complacent, disciplined, but acting in such a relaxed manner that belied the threat to the whole world. If only they knew…
From the personal log of Lt. Roger Carver, #RoyalMarines HMS Thunder Child, 09 June 1897 10:46 GMT
We were escorted into the wood-panelled sea cabin of Admiral Sir Walter Kerr. He motioned to the two chairs before his mahogany desk. “Sit down gentlemen.” He lit his cigar and puffed on it. “A shame about the Colossus. We could’ve used her.”
“Yes, Admiral,” agreed Allenby, absently.
“…of course, there’s no understating your bravery or that of the crew of Thunder Child,” continued the Admiral. “It’s just these… things…”
“I know sir,” said Allenby “There’s no word to describe them…”
“…but alien,” I found myself piping up suddenly.
From the personal log of Lt. Roger Carver, #RoyalMarines HMS Thunder Child, 09 June 1897 10:48 GMT
“Yes,” Kerr forced a smile. “Quite… alien. Given your experience with the Martians, you’ll stay close in shore, and acting as screen for the civilian shipping,” said Kerr puffing his cigar. ”That is your official role. “
“Unofficially,” said the admiral, “you will screen Her Royal Majesty and members of the royal household. We will be evacuating them to France. You will act as escort to the fast yacht Turbina and see them out of threatened waters.”
“The situation is far worse than the Government has let on,” said Kerr shaking his head gravely, as if reading our shocked expressions. “The monsters will be on us soon. London is about to fall to the Martians. Both the Government and the Royal Family have fled the city.”
“Astounding,” said Allenby. “Things are that bad?”
“Worse,” Kerr snorted. “The Cabinet has retreated to Birmingham; and what’s left of the Army is in retreat. They have been ordered to form a new line along the Thames, and from Moulesford along the GWR line to Bristol but who knows if they can hold.”
The enemy has yet to seize London,” Kerr continued. But with London now cut off to the West and soon likely to the North, it won’t last long.”
“And,” said Kerr with all the studied calm of a man facing his execution, “there have been mutinies on the torpedo-boats of the Thames Squadron.”
“Mutinies?” said Allenby in disbelief.
“Unfortunate business,” Kerr nodded. “We’ve also had instances of the wireless interference you’ve reported. By means of signal triangulation, we have placed its source around Woking. We believe the Martians have established a powerful wireless beacon to guide their cylinders.”
“There’s not more to add,” concluded Kerr. “The Channel Squadron will stand to further out and prevent a Martian crossing of the channel.”
I said nothing. How long would that plan last when the Martians began landing outside Paris and Berlin?
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 09 June 1897 11:25 GMT
Captain Allenby and Lt Commander Carver returned to ship from Majestic.
The Midland Railway issues the following notice:
“Trains are now being run north from St. Albans to relieve the congestion of the home counties.”
What it fails to mention is that the Company had been forced to replace over 150 staff who deserted their posts the previous day.
Churches and other individuals step forward to assist the government almost broken by the scale of the disaster. A placard in Chipping Ongar announces to refugees that large stores of flour are available in northern towns, and bread will be distributed within 24 hours.
Sergeant Donaldson just rode in with a message from Lt. Kilvaney warning us about the Martian’s black-dust. The Sergeant was just about all-done-in from the ride and I sent him off to rest and telegraphed the message onto Papa. Poisonous stuff — the 4th platoon lost a lot of good men. Usefully, it seems the Martians can disperse it with steam.
Sir J Dullanty – whose Scottish estate (Rotch Wood) abutted Balmoral, was a chemist, engineer, inventor, and philanthropist. The Dullenty family often visited when the Queen when she was in residence. The Queen in fact serving as the god-mother to his youngest son. Dullanty had a large laboratory and had often communicated with Alfred Nobel before Nobel’s death in 1896.
Sir J Dullanty found himself driven to invent the first gas mask against black dust, as a result of communications from his son. Initially a simple hessian sack with glass goggles, the hood placed over the head and tied at the neck had to be kept wet. Recognising its many failings, a mask with an external box respirator with a built in trickle feed was issued within 17 days (22nd June).
Unfortunately, we have been unable to discover any records detailing the agreement to centralise information facilities at Rotch Wood. Sir J Dullanty was in Scotland on the 6th, but as a close confident of the Queen, and a personal friend of the then Secretary of State for War, it is possible that the decision was one taken between the Queen and the Secretary of State.
Churchill, in his ‘Hidden Histories’ later suggested that it may have due to the fact that #RotchWood was some considerable distance from the Martians, had a private telegraph line, and large laboratory, and abutting Balmoral #RotchWood’s location adjacent to Balmoral gave it easy access to the train network, and the protection of those units of the Grenadier Guards, the Coldstream Guards, the Scots Guards, the Irish Guards and the Welsh Guards emplaced around Balmoral.
Unfortunately, given the amount of secrecy that subsequently surrounded the #RotchWood establishment it is unlikely we will ever find out.
It is believed that this photograph taken at Glenquoich in 1905 of King Edward VII may be the only photograph we have of the 1st Earl RotchWood. The Earl being the 3rd from the left.
Now feeling worse again. #Martians are stalking through London. We can see them from our building. #cantheyseeus?
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 09 June 1897 13:11 GMT
Thunder Child has intercepted and taken aboard a group of mutineers from one of the Thames Squadron torpedo-boats, HMS Terrible. Captain to convene a court-martial on the ship’s quarter-deck.
From the personal log of Lt. Roger Carver, #RoyalMarines HMS Thunder Child, 09 June 1897 14:12 GMT
Four sullen men, the highest-ranking a leading seaman sat on the bench, flanked by two of the ship’s Marines.
“It was madness, that’s it what was, ordering us to charge up the river to do what?” He sneered. “We didn’t get more than halfway when we were met by a wall of black smoke and the Heat Ray.”
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 09 June 1897 14:30 GMT
After a brief trial, the captain has pronounced the mutineers guilty of mutiny and desertion in the face of the enemy. Sentenced them to death by firing squad; sentence carried out immediately on the quarter-deck.
From the personal log of Lt. Roger Carver, #RoyalMarines HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:40 GMT
“The world is coming to an end, and yet this is what we do,” said Farmer, watching the detail slide the wrapped bodies over the side.”
“They mutinied and deserted in the face of the enemy,” was all I could reply.
“Really? I thought better of you, Carver,” Farmer said, and turned on his heel.
Curies have been little help. They have no idea how the Martian heat ray works.
Vogan and I begin to plan to take a tripod down to get their heat gun.
When the lookout use the “U” flags to warn of an incoming tripod the refugees trying to get into the station panic, and people are killed in the crush.
The tripod doesn’t see the easy pickings as they’re still staking out the bridges. We were lucky.
#hiding
#havetheygonepastyet?
More #blacksmoke
Weird thing happened. #Martians cleared sea of #blacksmoke with ?steam
So many #bodies #devastated #ihavenomoretears
From the personal journal of Hiram Maxim, Inventor:
I have returned from my week’s reconnaissance of the Martian pits and works near Woking. Nothing human lives in that blighted town. It is a forest of blackened walls without roofs. Tangles of red weed run riot in what were once lush green gardens.
My survey confirms that the Martians have driven out all humanity from a three-mile radius around their initial landing site in Woking. No reminder of humanity remains, save for the shadow of a mother embracing her child, permanently etched on a wall by the Heat Ray.
I crept to a point within one hundred yards of the Martian pit on Horsell Common. I could see the tower of adamantine metal, taller even than the tower raised by Monsieur Eiffel in Paris. It crackles with a blueish glow.
I have developed a theory regarding the purpose of the Martian tower at Woking. By the initial pattern of fall of the enemy cylinders, I believe the tower to be broadcasting a powerful wireless beacon used to guide incoming Martian craft for their landings.
As I draw closer to the tower, I feel a most curious effect: which I can describe as the feeling of pins and needles running up and down the length of my body. Was this strange energy being generated by the tower? This cannot be just the beacon; I believe there is more here.
With the first phase of the enemy’s operations concluded, it is clear from the patrolling war machines that the Martians view the tower as critical to their continued success here on Earth. I believe there is a second, yet undiscovered but more important reason behind the tower. I now view the tower’s destruction as critical to the survival of humanity.
One day, I witnessed a group of soldiers plus a few armed civilians, try to storm the Martian pit by surprise. I watched as they crept by me, within a few feet of my own hide, rose to charge the position, and were slaughtered to a man by the Heat Ray. I vowed my own attempt would succeed.
Adamantine is a term coined by Maxim to describe a unique of aluminium and magnesium, and used by the Martians because of its unusual lightness and toughness.
The Curies report that black smoke is rendered harmless with water.
They put together a system that bubbles our air through water in a wine bottle to protect us from the dust.
I have recruited enough men with artillery experience to re-man the artillery battery at Weybridge and bring down a tripod
So many strange #sounds #aloo #sirensounds #spinechilling
At least I am #notalone
Wells and the Curate, still trapped within the house, discover that part of the outside wall of the house has collapsed, and through a small hole they can see into the pit created by the Martian impact. A pit already vastly larger than the one Wells had seen at Woking.
It is through Wells’ observations, and his later publication of those observations, that we are fortunate to know so much about the Martian’s daily routines.
Wells notes that one of first things he notices, on the far edge of the pit, is one of the great fighting-machines, standing stiff and tall against the evening sky deserted by its occupant.
While down in the pit, however, Wells observes an extraordinary glittering mechanism busy in further excavation. Given the importance of what was later to be known as a “handling-machine” we have chosen to report his subsequent description in full.
“The mechanism, which has subsequently had a significant impact on subsequent terrestrial invention, appears as a metal spider with 5 jointed, agile legs, and a large number of jointed levers, bars, and clutching tentacles about its body…
“Most of its arms were retracted, but 3 long tentacles were retrieving the rods, plates, and bars which lined, and apparently strengthened the walls of the cylinder. These, as it extracted them, were lifted out and deposited upon a level surface of earth behind it…
Wells finishes: “Its motion was so swift, complex, and perfect that at first I did not see it as a machine, in spite of its metallic glitter. The fighting-machines were co-ordinated and animated to an extraordinary pitch, but nothing to compare with this.”
And once again another Martian shell falls, this time upon Primrose Hill. This is the 7th, and marks a significant recognition by the Martian of their control of the planet that they dare to land in the centre of London, the world’s most populous city.
Today we experience ‘The Miracle of Deliverance’ – the evacuation of 338,000 of London’s inhabitants to France by means of civilian small vessels via Harwich, Foulness, Shoebury, et al while protected by the British Home Fleet.
And through the eyes of Lieutenant Carver, the senior officer of the Royal Marines detachment assigned to HMS Thunder Child, we experience the destruction of 3 tripods before Thunder Child’s self immolation.
In London Toni’s diary documents her increasing anger at the absence of any government below ‘the-line’, and introduces us to Sir John Fowler, who was a noted civil engineer. He was the engineer for the London Metropolitan Railway, and a resident of Queen Anne’s Mansions.
While Morant’s own efforts to organise begin to bear fruit, Lt Dullanty (4th Coy. CdSmGd) who has been ordered to provide an outer perimeter to the Queen’s transfer observes the HMS Thunder Child’s battle with 4 tripods, and recovers the corpse of a Martian.
Woke early. #London #silence. #eerie. #bodiesinthestreets
Refugees to continue to flee in the face of Martian advances. But with the Martian’s now controlling London, boats are no longer able come up the Thames to ferry people to the relative safety of Europe.
Instead they gather on the Essex coast, Harwich, Walton and Clacton, and as far as Foulness and Shoebury, to take the people off, in what later Sir Winston Churchill describes in his work A Short History of the World as ‘The Miracle of Deliverance’.
With the breakdown of government, and the links of trade, people start to organise themselves. In Chelmsford – a body of inhabitants, calling itself the Committee of Public Supply, seizes the horses of refugees for food.
Brown leaves HQ to set up the refugee network routes and safe houses. He takes several boxes of Union Jack flags.
Tunnel guides report Union Jack flags work like magic – refugees have even broken into song.
Discuss using locomotive trains converted to ovens for making bread and cooking soup at the breakfast meeting.
Resistance by army units cut off behind Martian lines continues sporadically and often ineffectively – the blowing up of the Waltham Abbey Powder Mills in a vain attempt to destroy one of the tripods being an example of this. Other units (such as 4th Coy Coldstream Guard) will be more prepared and successful.
The roads were chaos – everyone seems to be running, without any idea where they’re running to. Arrived at Bradwell to find the waters crowded with small craft taking on board refugees while the Fleet held station off shore.
There was a detachment of marines waiting on the wharf for my Godmother and I ordered an outer perimeter of 10 set up about a mile out of town. The remainder of us occupied houses along High Street. Everyone set-to to break through the interior walls of the Terrace House so we can move undetected between them.
By noon the Essex coast is crowded with ships of all sizes in a huge sickle-shaped curve that vanishes into the mist towards the Naze. Inshore is a multitude of fishing-smacks — English, Scotch, French, Dutch, and Swedish; steam-launches from the Thames, yachts, electric boats.
While beyond the smacks and launches are the larger ships, filthy colliers, trim merchantmen, cattle-ships, passenger-boats, petroleum-tanks, ocean tramps, an old white transport even, neat white and gray liners from Southampton and Hamburg.
And along the entire coast, with its mill-smooth surface, a dense swarm of boats chaffering with the people on the beach, a swarm which also extended up the Blackwater almost to Maldon, with people being quoted 36 pounds to be transported to Ostend.
In the distance, a couple of miles out, like some swan shadowing its cygnets, someone on the shore might just make out an ironclad, very low in the water, the Majestic class battleship HMS Thunder Child.
Beyond the Thunder Child a serpent of black smoke marks the ironclads of the Channel Fleet. A fleet that had hovered in an extended line, steam up and ready for action, across the Thames estuary during the course of the Martian conquest, vigilant and yet powerless to prevent it.
Have secured horses and a gun carriage, which we are keeping at the London Bridge station.
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 09 June 1897 16:10 GMT
Lt Commander Carver is still ashore with a detachment of ship’s Marines pier at Bradwell Waterside, awaiting arrival of Royal Party.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:11 GMT
Much has been written of the events of this day, particularly by a certain fabulist-turned-historian, who has taken some liberties and omits certain important details. As a witness, I can only provide my first-hand version of events, which saw my world forever change.
Concerning Lt Roger Carver’s description of Wells as a ‘fabulist-turned-historian’. Some of the contempt may be due to Wells’ Socialist ideals which Carver abhorred. In defence of Wells’ own account, Wells himself was not a witness to what occurred, and appears to have relied on his brother recollections @hgwellsbro.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:13 GMT
As per Admiral Kerr’s orders, I had taken a small detachment of the ship’s marines ashore to meet the Royal Party at a private pier just outside Bradwell Waterside, where Turbina was tied up, awaiting its passengers. Thunder Child stood patiently offshore, smoke curling up from her stack.
Turbinia was the world’s first steam turbine-powered steamship. Built as an experimental vessel in 1894, and easily the fastest ship in the world at that time, Turbinia was demonstrated dramatically at the Spithead Navy Review in early 1897 and set the standard for the next generation of steamships, the majority of which would be turbine powered.
The vessel is currently located at the Discovery Museum in Newcastle upon Tyne, North East England, while her original powerplant is located at the Science Museum in London.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:15 GMT
The Martians had swept into London from the southwest, cutting it off from the rest of the country. They drove humanity before them, like lambs to the slaughter. Standing on the pier, we watched a steady stream of humanity clatter by, increasing in size throughout the day. Mr. Farmer would certainly appreciate this.
Some refugees were on foot; many passed us on horseback, bundled into wagons and carriages, and even on bicycles doubtlessly driven by the sounds of artillery in the distance. We drew sullen stares but our line of fixed bayonets and men in khaki had thus far dissuaded anything beyond.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines Officer, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:35 GMT
Finally, we heard the clatter of multiple hooves, the whinny of horses, and the rattle of carriage wheels, and the angered calls, of “Make way! Make way!”
Within a few minutes a black carriage with drawn curtains arrived, escorted by a squadron of dusty Horse Guards with carbines hanging from their saddles.
A young Horse Guards lieutenant in his dirty red serge dismounted, hand on his calvary sabre. He marched up to me parade ground style and saluted crisply. “Sir, I transfer my charges into your custody.”
I returned his salute. “Accepted.”
The carriage door slowly opened.
We snapped to attention. A diminutive figure, shrouded in black stepped out, escorted by a pair of ladies in waiting, and a frowning man, presumably her bodyguard. She stopped in front of the lieutenant and took his hand. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Thus, in her Diamond Jubilee Year of 1897, Her Majesty Queen Victoria, Empress of India, and Head of the Commonwealth fled England.
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:37 GMT
Lt Carver signals by heliograph the Royal Party is safely away. Mr. Farmer reports wireless interference continues.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:40 GMT
We watched Turbina pull away from the pier. As the yacht and its royal passenger moved speedily into the busy estuary under the protective gaze of the Thunder Child, I said to Sergeant Howard, “Get the men on the whaleboat and castoff.”
A sudden shout made me turn around. A Martian tripod towered menacingly above the forest behind us.
“Belay that!” I ordered, with an eye on the looming Martians.
I tossed the mooring rope to the cox’n. “Get that whaleboat away!” Then turning to Howard and the Horse Guards lieutenant. “Get your men to cover!”
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:41 GMT
Look out reports sighting Martian fighting-machine ashore, now joined by a second. Captain orders battle stations.
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:43 GMT
Look out reports whaleboat pulling away from pier without Mr. Carver and his shore detail. Third Martian machine sighted, moving towards its companions.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:44 GMT
Along with the other men, Sergeant Howard, the Horse Guards lieutenant, and I crouched low behind a stone wall. The civilians around us rushed about pell-mell, ignoring our example. I looked over the wall: the three Martians had linked up on the beach.
I watched as the Martians waded into the Blackwater, calling out, Ulla! Ulla!”
The shipping around them tried to scatter. I saw one of the tripods raise a giant leg and step on a fishing smack full of screaming people, driving it underwater.
“Inhuman monsters!” seethed the Lieutenant. He tried to stand up, but Howard and I grabbed him and held him fast.
“Stay down,” I growled. “Are you trying to get us killed?”
“You saw them! If mere men can’t stop them, what hope is there?”
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:50 GMT
Martians moving towards a sidewheel passenger ferry. Captain orders all ahead full, setting course to intercept the enemy. Crew reports ready for action in all respects. Light mist hinders visibility.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:53 GMT
In the mist, the three Martians stood in the middle of the estuary, seemingly transfixed by the sight of the hapless channel ferry, loaded down with terrified passengers. They towered above the little boat as its sidewheels churned and smoke poured from its stack.
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:54 GMT
Mr. Farmer observes the enemy hasn’t noticed our approach.
Captain replies they won’t be given the chance and orders full speed ahead.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:55 GMT
“Ulla! Ulla!” The trumpeting Martian chorus overlapped the panicked cries from the passengers on the ferry as the enemy pondered their next victims. The pour souls: they were doomed, and they knew it.
“Look!” shouted Howard.
From out of the fog, came Thunder Child.
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:56 GMT
Captain orders ‘prepare to ram’.
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, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:58 GMT
Along with Howard and the young Lieutenant, I got to my feet, open-mouthed. Thunder Child was still afloat, low in water by the bow, with a crumpled Martian tripod laying across her forward decks. The remaining tripod stood a distance away in the fog, as if stunned.
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 16:59 GMT
Bridge wrecked by impact with Martian machines. Captain unconscious. Mr. Farmer in command. Foreword turret not responsive. Flooding in forward spaces. Engine room responding to bridge commands.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 17:00 GMT
“Good old Thunder Child!” shouted Howard.
“Is anyone still alive on her?” asked the Lieutenant.
Smoke curled from the battleship’s crushed smokestack as it began to move forward. Plainly life remained on her. The last Martian began to move, bringing its Heat Ray to bear.
From the log of HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 17:02 GMT
Remaining Martian war machine off our bow. Mr. Farmer orders full speed ahead.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 10 June 1897 17:05 GMT
I felt a sickening lurch in my gut as the Martian fired, causing the length of the ship to erupt into the flame. But it was too late. Carried by momentum, if nothing else and the spite of a dead hand on the helm, Thunder Child barrelled head-long into the tripod’s legs.
The Martian collapsed forward onto Thunder Child as the burning ship swept under its legs. At the same time, an explosion from below decks caused Thunder Child to explode like a bomb, leaving its debris to rain down us.
“The boilers, “said Howard. He quietly crossed himself. “Almost as if she were waiting.”
The Queen’s escort arrived at 16:30 and leaving 2nd platoon in the town I took 1st platoon down to the quay to watch. The transfer took place without incident and I was intending to pull everyone back when we spotted three of the Martian tripods approaching. I can remember staring at them, gobsmacked, shocked by their size.
I ordered everyone to scatter, while Sergeant Hugh, Corporal Smith, and I took cover on the beach. From our position we watched HMS Thunder Child ram through the legs of the 1st tripod, plowing on into the legs of the 2nd Martian, bringing it down even as the tripod sprayed black dust.
We saw for the first time the Martians use their heat-ray, but it was too late and the Thunder Child exploded under the last tripod.
“Lieutenant,” Sergeant Hugh said, pointing out to sea.
Raising my head I saw something bobbing in the water, only a short distance away.
“Is that a Martian?” the Corporal asked.
“Looks like it might be,” the Sergeant said, cautiously.
At that a mad thought came to me. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s capture it.”
From the personal log of Admiral Sir Walter Kerr, C in C, Channel Squadron, aboard HMS Majestic, 10 June 1897, 17:20 GMT:
Lookouts report HMS Thunder Child lost, presumably with all hands after destroying three Martians. My commendation for her captain and crew shall note that they gave their lives in the performance of their duties.
After #ThunderChild’s success I had expected the fleet to move closer to shore but suddenly they abruptly went about, passing into the thickening haze of evening, southward.
And then the reason for the ironclads’ disappearance. Out of the deep twilight something rushes up into the sky, and into the luminous clearness above the clouds in the western sky. A Flyer.
Flat, broad and very large the Flyer sweeps round in a vast curve, before vanishing again into the grey mystery of the night.
From the personal log of Captain Charles Parson, RNR, Commanding HMS Turbina, 10 June 1897, 18:02 GMT:
The coast was behind us in the haze. I became aware of someone clearing her throat behind me on the bridge. I turned around: Her Majesty, Empress of India, Queen Victoria stood before me. “Y-your Majesty?”
“Tell me Captain,” she smiled. “How long would it take us make Aberdeen?”
#exhausted
?Steam cleared streets of #blacksmoke so we went out to see if we could help #strangesounds from far away today. Is someone #fightingback?
@graceharwoodstewart and @lizcadbury and I found no survivors today #bodies everywhere. Too #frightened to go very far. #blacksmokekills #whatiftheycomeback?
@sirjohntheengineer is coming for #dinner
#wearehavingaguest #whydoesthisfeelsostrange?
#feelsouseless #whydidwestay #shouldwemovethebodies #theywillstink
@sirjohntheengineer has a keen intellect and has made some observations
@sirjohntheengineer says #blacksmoke definitely affected by water. Turns to ?#powder and then sinks. Could this #help?
@sirjohntheengineer has corresponded with an Italian scientist @GMarconiwireless over the last three years. He has a #newfangledtelegraph #nowires! #scienceforthewin #hope
@sirjohntheengineer says he’s been trying to contact the government #whereisthegovernment? on his #wirelesstransmitter but that there’s some kind of interference.
The Queen arrives at Balmoral, much to the distress of the British Government who had arranged for her to travel to Paris, and the first description of the Martians is obtained when a recovered Martian corpse is rushed to the #RotchWoodEstate in Scotland for autopsy.
In London, the scarcity of entries in Toni’s diary today shows how the group has been almost overwhelmed with the situation. However, they continue to organize and today ‘elect’ Elizabeth Cadbury as their commander-in-chief.
Morant’s escape route now permits refugees to get as far as Finchley Road Station using the underground. From there a network of safe houses has been set up to take refugees to a staging point 30 miles northeast of London.
The body of the Martian turned out to be dead but we successfully recovered it and I sent the Sergeant with two men to protect the body to the nearest Great Eastern Railways’ station at Southminster with orders he was to telegraph my father who would arrange its transfer. Meanwhile we spent 15 minutes trying to recover what else we could from the remains of the Martians before a heliograph message forwarded from the town warned us of further tripods approaching. Ceasing our recovery efforts we pulled back to the shelter of the town.
We pulled out after dark and caught up with the Sergeant and the two privates at Southminster. They’d been told to await a special that was to convey the body north. Leaving him with 1st platoon I headed back to Tilbury.
Later, described by Sir Winston Churchill as surely one of the greatest understatements received by a Prime Minister, the following telegram was received by the 3rd Marquess of Salisbury at a time when he had assumed the Queen was safely on the continent.
From: Sir Edmund Monson, 1st Baronet, Ambassador to France.
To: The 3rd Marquess of Salisbury KG GCVO PC FRS DL. Prime Minister
SIR JUST BEEN INFORMED BY THE FRENCH GOVERNMENT THAT THE QUEEN HAS REACHED BALMORAL STOP THOUGHT YOU MIGHT NEED TO KNOW ENDS
From: Baron Muir Mackenzie, Balmoral
To: Lieutenant Colonel John Hague, Equerry, Prince of Wales, BIRMINGHAM
I HAVE BEEN ASKED TO CONVEY THE QUEEN’S BEST WISHES AND TRUST IN HER MOST LOYAL SON ALBERT EDWARD PRINCE OF WALES IN THIS TIME OF EXTREME DANGER TO THE CROWN AND TO THE QUEEN’S SUBJECTS STOP THE QUEEN HAS MADE IT CLEAR THAT SHE WILL NOT DESERT HER PEOPLE IN THIS TIME OF NEED.
Robert Arthur Talbot Gascoyne-Cecil, 3rd Marquess of Salisbury KG GCVO PC FRS DL (1830 – 1903) was a British statesman and Conservative politician who served as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom 3 times for a total of over 13 years, including during the Martian invasion.
Lord Robert Cecil, also known as Lord Salisbury, was first elected to the House of Commons in 1854. Following the death of his father in 1868 he became the 3rd Marquess of Salisbury, moving to the House of Lords. He was the last PM to serve from the House of Lords.
After Disraeli’s death in 1881, Salisbury emerged as Conservative leader in the Lords. He was prime minister three times (1885–86, 1886–92, 1895–1900), the most significant period being the last when he faced the Martian invasion.
Despite beating the Martians, the 1900 election resulted in Salisbury’s coalition of Unionists and Conservatives being reduced to a mere rump with the Liberals gaining 54% of the vote, and the Labour Representation Committee, later to become the Labour Party. winning 25%.
Historians generally agree that Salisbury’s loss was due to the anger those south of the Gascoyne-Cecil Line felt against the government who’d ‘left them behind’ to fend for themselves.
The organisation and grass roots support by groups, such as the NUWSS whose organisational ability had been built, and refined during the war, also proved vital to the size of the swing. Their reward, of course was the introduction of ‘The Universal Suffrage Act’ of 1902.
The historian, Paul Smith characterises Salisbury’s personality as “deeply neurotic, depressive, agitated, introverted, fearful of change and loss of control, and self-effacing but capable of extraordinary competitiveness.”
A representative of the landed aristocracy, Salisbury held the reactionary credo, “Whatever happens will be for the worse, and therefore it is in our interest that as little should happen as possible”
Dame Antoinette Louise Clark, GCVO (aka @toniwantsthevote), and Britain’s first female health minister was once heard to remark of Salisbury: ‘Only a neurotic control freak would think that drawing a line on a map would stop a Martian in a tripod. Fortunately, our earthly bacteria have more fortitude than that man. And so did the voting public.’
Brown sent us a pigeon from Chesham. He has set up a network of safe houses for refugees to a staging point 30 miles northeast of London.
At breakfast handover, we announce that refugees can get as far as Finchley Road Station using the underground. Using the semaphore flag “R” marking the escape route Brown has made. The way is marked to at least Chesham.
Setting up safehouses where refugees can rest and be fed before their group takes its turn in the tunnels is working well. Guides report that it has helped that the refugees now know people in the group they are in.
Most Martian activity seems to be focused on Didcot and further west. Our own food supplies are getting low, and refugees are still streaming in.
Without my permission, the Curries obtained a horse from the stables and left it tied up on Tower Bridge. The Martians ignored it, and the Curies are now convinced that they only want humans for food.
I explained to both Currie’s that the horse was our food and not for pointless experiments on the Martians. I tell them they need to work out how to make a heat ray weapon. Marie suddenly seemed to forgot how to speak English.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 11 June 1897, 10:34 GMT:
We spent the better part of yesterday and today on the shore waiting. To our dismay, the battleships of the Channel Squadron remained on the horizon, their distant shimmering forms in my binoculars. They sent us no relief, despite our repeated signals.
“Commander,” asked Sergeant Howard, not unkindly. “Orders? Poor old Thunder Child’s gone; there’s no help coming from those blighters.” He nodded out to sea.
I nodded. I had hoped to find survivors from Thunder Child, but it was evident that she was lost with all hands.
Meanwhile my little group of Marines and Horse Guards had grown, picking up stragglers from other regiments. The story these new arrivals told was the same: the wholesale slaughter of humanity. Between myself, Howard, and Lieutenant Mann, we struggled with discipline, but then – “Woking, Sergeant,” I heard myself say.
“Beg pardon, sir?”
“Woking.” The Admiralty had a theory that the enemy has established a wireless beacon there. I intend for us to destroy it.”
Howard raised an eyebrow but nodded. Any order would help. “Right you are, sir.”
From the personal log of Admiral Sir Walter Kerr, C in C, Channel Squadron, aboard HMS Majestic, 11 June 1897, 10:40 GMT:
Lookout reports partial heliograph message obscured by heavy fog received from shore. Message reads: …INTEND TO ATTACK MARTIANS AT WOKING. (signed) CARVER, THUNDER CHILD.
Held formal planning meeting this morning. We are all #afraid. BUT we need to #help somehow. Elected @lizcadbury as commander in chief. We will go apartment to apartment today to see who is in the building and go on from there. #whydidwenotdothisbefore
#whereisouractualgovernment?
#howdoweorganisecommunications?
#toomanythoughts
Went out with @graceharwoodstewart and @lizcadbury to scout area. #Martians on the horizon #aloo #calling
Have been through #QueenAnnesMansions looking for #survivors. Most have fled. Found #bodies in two lower floor flats. Building is mostly empty. Nearly all remaining residents are #toooldtoflee #leftbehind #chosetostay #sadness
Returned from second scout trip. Found collection of black dust in dried puddle. Could it be #blacksmoke residue? #Pocket supplies contained sample jars, so I carefully #fear scraped residue up and sealed it in a jar.
@sirjohntheengineer has some supplies, that combined with ours, might help to the #analyse #blackdustresidue #fear #apprehension
To: Sec of State for War, Henry Petty-Fitzmaurice, 5th Marquess Lansdowne, cc Colonel Coldstream Guards, Gen Sir Stephenson. Sirs, I have the honour to present the results of the autopsy on the Martian captured by No 4 Company Coldstream Guards.
Respectfully Dr John H Watson.
“The Martian has a huge round body—or, rather, a head—about 4 feet in diameter. In the front of this body, or head, is a face. This face has no nostrils but rather a pair of very large, dark-colored eyes, with just beneath the eyes a kind of fleshy beak…
“At the back of this head/body—I scarcely know how to speak of it—is a single tight tympanic surface, an ear, though it must be almost useless in our denser air. Grouped round the mouth were sixteen slender, almost whip-like tentacles, arranged in two bunches of eight each…
“These bunches have were named, by the distinguished anatomist, Professor Howes, who assisted me – the hands. Those brave men of the Cold Stream Guards,or recovered the body, have told me that they saw the Martians endeavoring to raise themselves on these hands…
“Of course, Earth’s increased gravity made it impossible for the Martians to raise themselves in this fashion. But there is reason to suppose that on Mars they may have progressed upon these “hands” with some facility…
“Internally, dissection revealed that the greater part of the structure was the brain, linked to the eyes, ear, and tactile tentacles by enormous nerves. Besides this were the complex lungs, into which the mouth opened, and the heart and its vessels…
“Strange as it may seem, the Martian fail to possess any apparatus of digestion. They were heads—merely heads, without entrails. They did not eat, much less digest. Instead, it appears they take the fresh, living blood of other creatures, and inject it into their own veins…
“The physiological advantages of the practice of injection are undeniable, if one thinks of the tremendous waste of time and energy occasioned by eating and the digestive process…
“Their undeniable preference for men as their source of nourishment is partly explained by the nature of the remains of the victims they had brought with them as provisions from Mars. And which had been recovered from Woking on a previous occassion…
“These ‘supplies” or creatures, to judge from the shrivelled remains, were bipeds, with flimsy, silicious skeletons (almost like those of the silicious sponges) and feeble musculature…
“They stood about six feet high, with round, erect heads, and large eyes in flinty sockets. Two or three of these seem to have been brought in each cylinder, and all were killed and drained before Earth was reached…
“In 3 other points their physiology differs strangely from ours. They did not sleep, any more than the heart of man sleeps. Secondly Martians were absolutely without sex, and therefore without any of the tumultuous emotions that arise from that difference among men…
“Despite the lack of sex, they do reproduce-in a manner similar to how young lily-bulbs bud off, or the young of fresh-water polyps. The recovered body included the bud of a young Martian, probably born upon earth during the war, still attached to its parent…
“The last salient point was the appearance of gangrene on the creature’s skin, and internal organs. From the pattern of the gangrene’s spread it appears that a minor cut may have become infected, with the infection then spreading throughout the body…
“However, no sign of the original entry point could be found, and the young “bud” was also severely compromised. It has been suggested that the systems of these creatures differ significantly from ours by the apparent ease and speed with which it had succumbed to the bacteria…
“Professor Howes has posseted that this may be because Micro-organisms, which cause so much disease and pain on earth, have either never appeared upon Mars, or Martian sanitary science eliminated them ages ago…
“How significant this difference is remains to be determined, however, there was clear signs of putrification in several of its “hands” which had thereby been rendered useless.
I remain your faithful Servant, John H. Watson M.D.
All residents now relocated to upper floors of #QueenAnnesMansions Nine of them, three of us, and @sirjohntheengineer
#exhausted #achinglegs #toomanystairs
Executive committee determined not to move #bodies outside #QueenAnnesMansions. Retired Major (@servedinAfricawhat) said will tell #Martians we are here. #stink #justaswellIamnotsqueamish
In London, once again Toni’s diary has only a few entries for the day, but they are important ones – documenting decisions to make sure they remain safe, research on the black smoke, and the frightening sounds made by the Martians during their patrols.
Morant’s guests, Marie and Pierre Curie, become fixated (according to Morant) on the idea that the Martians are unable to digest arsenic.
Commander Carver, now behind enemy lines with a small scratch group of 25 (Marines, Horse Guards, and misc. stragglers) prepares to march on Woking to destroy the radio mask erected by the Martians.
It is now Wells and the curate’s 4th day imprisoned in the house in Sheen. Sheen (or more accurately East Sheen) is situated next to Richmond Park and was formerly a manor before being given over to house and apartment builders.
At breakfast handover, one of the scavengers reported seeing a Martian capture a refugee and almost immediately release them. Apparently, the individual was hammered, and could barely stand. Pierre Curie immediately demanded we find this person.
The Curries have disregarded my direction to make me a weapon we can use against the Martians. Instead, they have been talking to the refugees about how the Martians reject some people they’ve taken for food.
They believe it important that they rejected people who had eaten rats, cats, dogs or foxes and were showing symptoms of arsenic poisoning. I’m sure this is fascinating, but it doesn’t kill Martians.
Saw a #Martian out the window this morning. Ducked down but felt no fear. #amitootiredtofear?
#stench
#needtogetmyselftogether
Still haven’t heard anything more regarding the flying machine we sighted on the 10th, following the sinking of HMS Thunder Child, so queried it again with HQ and got a ‘WAIT OUT’ in response.
Against this we received detailed instructions on how to construct the new Gas Mask Mk 1. No-one who saw the first model we built expressed any confidence that it would actually work, myself included, despite it having been designed by my father.
With no choice, however, we persisted with their assembly until we had enough to equip everyone.
Sergeant Hugh and the 1st Platoon returned. According to the Sergeant the army arranged an ‘extra’ consisting of a single carriage and locomotive to pick up the body and the platoon and transferred them via Shenfield to Peterborough on the Great Eastern Railways Line.
At Peterborough the carriage was transferred onto the Great Northern Railway’s connection to Aberdeen and then onwards to Balmoral, and my father’s laboratories at #RotchWood.
They were then left to arrange their own arrangements for their return. Sometimes, I have doubts regarding whether the army could organise a piss-up in a brewery.
From the personal log of Lt. Roger Carver, #RoyalMarines HMS Thunder Child, 12 June 1897, 13:20 GMT:
After Lieutenant Mann ordered his Sergeant to locate mounts for us all, Lieutenant Mann and I spent some time this morning discussing the best route to Woking. Both of us agree we must avoid London at all costs, but north or south?
The route south is shorter and has the advantage of avoiding the front-line. Sergeant Howard is confident of finding some means for us to cross at Tilbury, but without the ferry we will have to leave our mounts behind.
#haventhadagoodday
From the personal journal of Hiram Maxim:
I have retired to my establishment and workshop near Ripley, just inside the exclusion zone. I have taken over an abandoned manor house with a large barn. I am very careful. I light no fires which would betray my presence with smoke.
I cook with an electric stove and provide myself electrical illumination, both powered by an ingenuous chemical battery of my own design. My windows are blacked out with dark paper so to preserve the illusion of abandonment to the passerby. But inside, my work continues.
I keep the Martian tower and pit under close observation by stroke of sheer luck. The previous occupants of the house had left behind a large telescope in the attic, which is of sufficient strength to keep the Martians under watch.
I monitor the Martian tower with my own wireless. Until several days ago, the interference was intermittent, and I could occasionally receive signals from the government in Birmingham. Now, interference is so strong, it can only be broached by the most powerful transmitter.
I am using these observations to develop a theory about the true nature of the Martian tower. Meanwhile, I draw up my plans. The key factor is time; and I fear humanity may have very little of it left.
Despite the loss of 3 tripods the Martians have continued a cautious push northward, reaching the outskirts of Didcot today.
In London Toni explains how the leaders of the suffragists survived the Martian black smoke, and mentions the ‘Red Weed’ for the first time. While Morant dispatches foraging parties to supplement dwindling food stocks. HMS Majestic, flagship of the Channel Squadron reports sighting a flying disc circling over the fleet.
By the end of the day, due to the number of civilians killed during the Martian’s attack on Didcot, the army has decided to evacuate all non-combatants within 10 miles of the Line further north.
Wells, and the Curate are now enduring their 5th day in the house in Sheen. They spend their time observing the Martians working around the 5th cylinder. One of the great fighting-machines, still empty of its occupant, stands stiffly, silhouetted against the sky on the far side of the pit.
On my mother’s advice, foraging parties have been directed to catch dogs, cats and rats to supplement food stocks. We hunt with bow and arrows and used the trapping techniques Brown had taught me. Not a popular move, but only the foraging party needs to know where the meat is coming from.
Found a big store of potatoes and flour down at the docks.
TO: JAMES DULLANTY
BE AWARE THAT LT KILVANEY REPORTS THAT NUM 3 AND 4 PLATOONS WERE CAUGHT IN AN AMBUSH AND HAVE RETREATED TOWARDS WEYBRIDGE.
STEPHENSON ENDS
TO: STEPHENSON
ANY FURTHER WORD ON THE MARTIAN’S FLYING MACHINE STOP
DULLANTY ENDS
TO: JAMES DULLANTY
WAIT OUT
STEPHENSON ENDS
With the decision on the 9th to establish the Gascoyne-Cecil-Line, Didcot’s junction on the routes to London, Bristol, Oxford and to Southampton made the town of strategic importance to military logistics. Recognising this the army quickly set about reinforcing the town, and establishing a Central Ordinance Facility in the town.
However, the CinC Field Marshal Wolseley was not the only one to recognise Didcot’s importance and on the 13th the Martians attempted a raid in force. Luckily over half the units in Didcot had been issued with the Mark 1 Gas-mask the previous day and with the automatic mines that had already been emplaced across the Midland counties were able to hold, although civilian casualties have been variously been estimated at between 50%-75%.
Foodstores at Borough Road is now looking better.
From the personal log of Lt Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 13 June 1897, 16:58 GMT:
We have set off for Woking, intending to cross the Thames at Tilbury. I am in command of a cobbled-together mounted force of 25 men, drawn from the late Thunder Child’s marine detail, Lieutenant Mann’s Horse Guards, and a dozen stragglers from other commands. I plan to travel at night to keep from being discovered.
Wells later reports hearing the firing of large guns in the distance, which would likely to have been the army’s frantic defence of Didcot.
Sentries report the sound of large guns to the west-northwest, somewhere beyond London.
From the personal log of Admiral Sir Walter Kerr, C in C, Channel Squadron, aboard HMS Majestic, 13 June 1897, 19:00 GMT:
No response to our messages from Lieutenant Commander Carver. More disturbing was the appearance of a flying disc that circled over the fleet, out of reach of our guns. I have heard rumours the Martians have the secret of flight. I wish Carver Godspeed with greater urgency.
@lizcadbury and I went out scouting for @NUWSS posts. Only focused on those we know are on higher ground. #sadness #blacksmoke
@graceharwood and @sirjohntheengineer have been experimenting with #blacksmoke residue. No results so far.
@millifawcett is alive! So #thankful #secondstoriessavelives #hillssavelives #survivalstories #inspiring
We have found small pockets of #survivors who managed to get to #higherground of some kind.
Planned regular #infodrops at central points. #whereisthegovernment #wemustorganiseagain #survivors #Ihavehope
Weird spots of #redweed popping up all over #London. Is it from #Mars? #isthatwhyitsred
Rebuffed, the Martians pulled backed to regroup. Recognising that even a successful assault would only result in them then to having force the defences constructed along the Thames, they pivoted west, and with the obvious intention of avoiding the Thames defences, began to prepare for an attempt to break the line at Swindon.
Received confirmation that the army beat off an attack on Didcot today. Apparently the Gas-masks proved crucial in allowing the army to hold. I didn’t envy them having to wear the things, today was unpleasantly hot. I have ordered the unit to practice wearing their masks for at least five hours a day.
(NOTE: records indicate a maximum of 25C – https://www.extremeweatherwatch.com/cities/london-on/year-1897)
Civilian deaths were high in the attack on Didcot, and all civilians within 10 miles of the Line, and not directly employed in a role vital to defence are being evacuated.
Given the impact of the Martian’s Red Weed on England’s urban and country environments we take a short detour to consider the plants that for a short time drowned much of England in a sea of red.
In London, the entries in Toni’s diary offers essential reading for the modern historian to properly understand the sweeping political changes that occurred after 1897. Many historians speculate that without ‘The Line’ and the anger it caused, the changes to society that swept from London, and indeed into the wider world, would have taken many more decades.
The Curies continue to collect evidence that the Martians are highly susceptible to arsenic.
Lt Dullanty decides to move his two platoons closer to London, setting up a heligraph in Greenwich to maintain contact with Tilbury Fort, while Lt Carver (ex HMS Thunder Child) continues to march his ragtag group towards Woking.
Things may be getting a bit crowded in London 😉
The Curies have reported that the individual rejected by Martians on the 12th was not drunk (despite his symptoms), but had been poisoned by arsenic. Marie was convinced he may have ingested it from the beer that had been his only sustenance for the past fortnight and demanded I obtain a sample for her to test as she believes the Martians may be highly susceptible to arsenic.
One of the lookouts then reported seeing a small group of captured people, who’d eaten rat stew in a safe house, being tossed from the cage of a tripod. The Curies might be on to something with this arsenic.
Before penicillin, Arsenic compounds were used to treat bacterial infections. At the end of the 19th century, a safe dose in humans was well known. In contrast, later investigations into Martian physiology showed why it would be so toxic to them. Internally, they consist of a brain, lungs, heart, liver, kidneys and blood vessels. They have no digestive tract. Mechanically transfusing blood via pipettes from other animals, notably humans, was the only way they could sustain themselves on Earth. Metabolising or excreting arsenic would have been problematic, and it would have accumulated and caused lesions in their skin, liver and kidneys, making them very sick before they died.
It was perhaps fortunate that the Curies, were French, and were already familiar with the symptoms of arsenic poisoning from a scandal involving arsenic-contaminated wine in France in 1888. Regrettably, these findings could not have been widely disseminated as this is the only record of arsenic used against the Martians.
It also unfortunate that the Curie’s findings were not published as this was first evidence of what by 1900 would result in more than 6,000 people in England being poisoned by arsenic-tainted beer, with more than 70 of the affected dying as a result. The food safety crisis was caused by arsenic entering the supply chain through impure sugar which had been made with contaminated sulphuric acid. Although being first detected in London by the Curies the illness was prevalent across the Midlands and Northwest England, with Manchester being the most heavily affected.
Subsequent, additional investigation into the outbreak found other sources of arsenic in beer, which had been unknowingly poisoning thousands in decades preceding the outbreak.
Before closing the Breakfast Handover I pointed out that we needed to test the Curie’s hypothesis and called for volunteers. The reception of this news was mixed. Some people don’t want to be used like poison bait. But if the Martian’s can’t stomach even a small portion of arsenic, we can make this place unliveable for them.
@sirjohntheengineer and @graceharwood say that #blackpowder washes away with #water Could this be a solution? #weneedtoexperiment
I have decided to move the unit closer to London. We’re not achieving anything here. The fort commander has agreed to loan me 6 men and 3 heliograph units.
One heliograph will be based at the Royal Observatory in Greenwich, with at least one repeater somewhere between the fort and Greenwich, probably on Bexley Heath. This will enable us to maintain contact with HQ via the fort’s telegraph unit while the weather remains fine.
We’re taking 4 boxes of dynamite. It’s not doing anything in the Fort, and there has to be something we can use it for.
From the personal log of Lt. Roger Carver, Royal Marines, HMS Thunder Child, 14 June 1897, 09:30 GMT:
As we cannot travel through London, our line of march to Woking must take us southwest to Tilbury where we must cross the Thames, before swinging northwest. We have thus far avoided the Martians but have seen the destruction that is their signature. With some exceptions, the men are becoming used their horses.
Basildon is in ruins and a measure of how we have fallen. Towards the town centre in front of the blackened wreck of the Town Hall, we came across a pile of bricks on which sat a chair that must have been pulled out of a bank manager’s office and covered in gold paint.
“Here now, that’s mine!” A portly man wearing the remains of a suit approached us. He looked like he’d been in the sun too long. “I’m the Master of Basildon. You report to me.”
“The Master?” I asked bemusedly.
“I’m the duly constituted civil authority hereabouts. I’m giving you an order!”
“I’m sorry, sir,” I smiled. “I don’t think so.” I turned to the column. “Move out!”
“I’m the master!” he shrieked as we rode past. “You lads listen to me!’ he called after us. “I can make Basildon great again!”
We rode on, leaving The Master of Basildon alone.
It is Wells’ and the curate’s 6th day confined to the collapsed house in Sheen, and they are amongst the first to notice the red weed. Biologists remain divided as to whether the Martians intentionally or accidentally brought the seeds with them. #RedWeed
There is no doubt to its hypertrophy, however, Wells recording that the red weed “grew with astonishing vigour and luxuriance, spreading up the sides of the pit so that its cactus-like branches quickly formed a carmine fringe to the edges of their triangular window.”
Mother has started to take food to people who can’t evacuate. She has found a hospital.
I hope they like rat stew.
The botanist Ernest Marquand, author of “Flora of Guernsey” and “The Red Weed” was fascinated by the Martian vegetation. Forced to remain in London during the invasion due to the pregnancy of his wife, he seized the opportunity to observe and document the plants as they appeared.
Marquand was the first to note that the red creeper was actually a transitory growth, which failed to gain any footing in competition with terrestrial forms. In its initial stages however, it appeared throughout the country, especially wherever there was a source of water.
Marquand was also one of the first to note the appearance of what he described as “a brown sheet of flowing shallow water, where meadows used to be along the Thames”. #Marquand #TheRedWeed
While initially surprised at this flood in an otherwise hot, dry summer, Marquand postulated that the flooding was caused by the tropical exuberance of the red weed.
He writes: “Directly the Red Weed encounters water it straightway becomes gigantic and of unparalleled fecundity. Its seeds simply poured down into the water of the Wey and Thames, its swiftly growing and Titanic water-fronds speedily choking both these rivers.” #Marquand
Investigating the appearance of the Red Weed, Marquand walks to Putney where he observes the bridge almost lost in a tangle of this weed. While the Thames spreads out across the meadows of Hampton and Twickenham around it.
Marquand later writes that “as the waters spread the weed followed them, until the ruined villas of the Thames valley were for a time lost in this red swamp, whose margin I explored, and much of the desolation the Martians had caused was concealed.”
In the end, the red weed succumbed almost as quickly as it had spread, when it was attacked by a cankering disease, now confirmed as being either the Pectobacterium carotovorum or Pseudomonas viridiflava bacteria. Some biologists consider it may have been a combination of both.
Alfred R Wallace, the well know naturalist and biologist, and 74 at the time of the invasion, remained at “Old Orchard” his house in Dorset throughout the war, and observed the spread and later death of the Martian weeds through the kitchen window.
Wallace is the first to suggest that by the action of natural selection, terrestrial plants have acquired a resisting power against bacterial diseases — never succumbing without a severe struggle. The red weed had no defence, however.
In Wallace’s “Darwin and the Martian” (1899) he wrote: “The Red Weed grew like a thing already dead. The fronds bleach, shrivel and become brittle. Dead, they break off at the least touch, and the waters that stimulated their early growth carried their last vestiges out to sea.”
@sirjohntheengineer spent the rest of the day #engineering and adjusting the #antenna on top of #QueenAnnesMansions How did I not notice the #antenna? @GMarconiwireless had been tossing ideas around with him in letters, so he built them.
@sirjohntheengineer made contact with #governmentinBirmingham #weareonourown #thereisaline #meningovernmentareheartless #wedemandthevote #thingswillchange #angry