by Mike Brunton
An artist’s impression of the gallant 4th Hussars’ charge across Horsell Common, published shortly after the battle. Reporting the hussars’ fate was forbidden to maintain national morale; throughout the Invasion newspapers remained relentlessly positive and patriotic in their reports.
When the runner reached him, Lord Roberts was horrified by the reports and in almost total despair when he saw the survivors running. What was left of the British force was in full flight. As an artilleryman, he was no stranger to applying firepower to problems, but something about the way the Martians did so niggled at him.
He came to the conclusion that the Martians had no concept of fighting, something which might seem extremely odd given that they had brought machines from Mars to do nothing else. Nonetheless, Roberts had spotted that the Martians displayed no tactical skill in battle. They hardly needed skill: their only plan was to form up in line abreast and then walk forwards, cooking their enemies as they advanced. This was horribly effective given the Martians’ advantages but, once he had realized how they operated, Roberts began to consider how to fight back and not just give the Martians a new set of targets to broil. Perhaps human ingenuity and cunning, honed over centuries of warfare, might be of more use than human courage and British pluck.
Woking Mosque was the oldest Islamic place of worship in Britain, and a distinctive landmark in the area. Damaged when the Martians attacked the 4th Hussars who had used it as a rallying point, it was rebuilt after the Invasion by public subscription. The pitifully few Hussars who were only wounded in the slaughter found some shelter within its walls.
Roberts found himself bundled aboard a train heading for London by his staff. He refused to leave Woking until the very last moment, waiting to pick up any stragglers. It almost cost him his life, as the last carriage in the train was set alight by a Heat Ray just as the train left. Back in London he immediately upset the Duke of Cambridge by his new-found willingness to be ungentlemanly and, quite frankly, un-British in his methods. Roberts’ personal courage would never be in doubt for a second, but he had grasped that this was a war of extermination, and accepted the implications of such a war. Gentlemen would be among those who died in front of the Martians; victors would be the ones to stab them from behind. He was ready to be as underhanded as possible next time he faced the Martians.
The Martians did not pursue Roberts’ train. Instead, they formed a cordon around the second Cylinder, waiting for their fellows to emerge.
THE BROOKWOOD LANDINGS
Both sides seemed to pause and take stock. The Martians, having proven their combat superiority over the natives, were only waiting for more Cylinders to land. The Bisley Martians had been busy, constructing an earthwork bank around their Cylinder and mounting patrols that cleared the surrounding area of all human life. Meanwhile, on the 6th, two more Cylinders crashed down, both within the relatively open areas of Brookwood Cemetery, opening many graves in the process. The Martian bridgehead was growing and, seen from a Martian perspective, the sites at Bisley, Brookwood and Horsell Common were perfectly positioned to be mutually supporting.
A paralysis overtook the government in London. The slaughter of the 4th Hussars at Woking was considered particularly awful, as so many officers from good families had died. As the few survivors of Woking gave their accounts, disbelief was replaced by sickened resignation. The first reports had been dismissed as hysterical nonsense, but it became clear that Lord Roberts was not exaggerating the threat.
Defeat was not unknown, but this was different. The one-sided destruction wreaked by the Martians was the kind of thing Britain’s enemies were supposed to suffer. The new government dithered, and then took itself to Oxford. Salisbury’s ministers made no provision for the evacuation of ordinary people in London. As it turned out, the ordinary people of London stood little chance of survival unless they had money and could afford a train out of town.
Even as the government moved, concerns were raised that Oxford wasn’t far enough away. York, Manchester and Edinburgh were all suggested as alternatives and dismissed for various reasons involving distance and ‘inconvenience’. As one anonymous wag put it, ‘That would be the inconvenience of not being a pleasant stroll away from one’s club, broker or a well-run disorderly house.’ Oxford was the choice. One permanent secretary remarked, ‘My old college has some rather fine claret in the cellars. Can the same be true of Manchester?’
Once cleared of staff and students everyone agreed that the colleges did make splendid ministry buildings. Many European ambassadors and diplomats decamped to Oxford as well: they were all given rooms in Somerville College, the young ladies in residence being packed off to ‘home, comfort and safety’ until the crisis passed. The German and French ambassadors immediately argued about who had been given the better accommodations. Other diplomats left London aboard Royal Navy steam launches that carried them to Chatham and then home aboard their own naval vessels. A colourful collection of military attaches appeared at Horse Guards, eager to be attached to British units so that they could ‘observe’ the fighting against the Martians. Cambridge’s staff sent them, with suitable letters of introduction, to Lord Roberts’ HQ or Aldershot.
Brookwood Cemetery had two railway stations: one for Church of England funerals and the other for non-conformists. Other faiths were not accommodated. By landing at Brookwood and breaking uncounted graves, the Martians were accidentally exposed to London’s dead, in their tens of thousands, and every pestilence that had killed them.
Shortly after the initial landings Joseph Chamberlain, the colonial secretary and Unionist Liberal leader, argued strongly for a government-in-exile. His Cabinet colleagues thought he was attempting to make himself the ‘prime minister beyond the seas’.
None of this was reported in the British press, because it would have caused unnecessary concern. The British newspapers were put on notice that they should not comment on, or mock, anyone ‘cutting and running’. There were worries that repositioning the government might be seen as a weakness to be exploited by ‘provocateurs, nihilists and foreign troublemakers among the disaffected of the lower orders’. The government, the ruling elite and the wealthy were running away, but they didn’t want anyone to know.
In Cabinet, Joseph Chamberlain, the leading Liberal Unionist and the new colonial secretary (and a man loathed by many), argued quite forcefully that a government-in-exile should be selected and sent to Canada. There it would be ready to take up the reins of Imperial power should the current administration be captured or killed. Unkind colleagues supposed that Colonial Secretary Chamberlain saw himself as the obvious ‘colonial’ prime minister, and were surprised that such an avowed patriot would suggest even the appearance of abandoning England. Chamberlain changed tack, and suggested Birmingham (with its heavy industries) as the ‘Bastion of England’. Chamberlain had reason to think this was a good idea, as he had been Mayor of Birmingham and knew his city well. Cabinet colleagues interpreted this as Chamberlain positioning himself to be the ‘Saviour of England’ if (not ‘when’, a sign of deep pessimism after the first battles) the Invasion failed. The government was new, and Chamberlain’s support of Lord Salisbury was based on political expediency, not loyalty or friendship. He was divisive and unpopular, but this was doing the man a disservice. He was patriotic and meant well. Salisbury took umbrage at the lack of British fighting spirit that ‘unpatriotic and lily-livered’ critics showed in assuming that the Martians might not be beaten. Although nothing was done at the time, later on more than one minister found that his promising prospects had melted away.
The Crown Jewels and important state artefacts such as the Parliamentary Maces and Great Seal of the Realm were moved to Oxford. Oddly, the great museums and galleries in London were simply locked and left in the care of a small number of brave curators. Officially it was claimed that these sites were in no danger from the ‘obviously intelligent’ Martian invaders. Looting was not considered a serious threat as long as the government’s dep
arture went unannounced. Quietly, however, a few ministers had particularly valuable pieces sent to their own country homes. Wealthy private collectors, tipped off by friends in government, moved their property out of London as fast as could be arranged. Predictably the railway companies, led by LNER and LNWR, raised shipping prices in response to this sudden demand. Great houses were shut up for the duration but, as it was August, many of the nobility and wealthy were already at their country homes. The news of the Martian arrival was no more than an item for after-dinner gossip. Those with sons in the army were a trifle worried but, as private diaries and journals recorded, mostly that ‘…the boy did not let down the family name … in this strange business.’
The middle and working classes were largely left to shift for themselves. People packed what they could and left London, heading into Essex and Kent to get away. One railway company, the London, Chatham and Dover Railway, hit on the idea of using special excursion trains (normally for seaside days out) to get people out of London. They would carry away any who could pay for a ‘return’ trip to Margate or Dover. What happened after that was not the LCDR’s concern. Many were still unable to leave as the Martians approached, even as the other rail companies copied this simple, even brilliant, evacuation-for-profit scheme. The poor of London were abandoned to the mercies of the Martians. And by accident the government abandoned London to its disenfranchised poor. This was to have serious public order consequences.
The Metropolitan Police were ordered to remain in London and carry out their duties, even as the government took itself off to Oxford. The officers of A, B and C divisions, covering Westminster, Chelsea and Mayfair, carried out summary executions of ‘looters’ in defence of their areas. As the Martians approached many large houses were abandoned by their wealthy owners, and word of easy pickings spread quickly.
Even as it happened the withdrawal to Oxford was largely pointless. More than one general and admiral recognized that there was no way of telling where the Martians would land. They could as easily invade Canada, Balmoral, or the Oxfordshire meadows along the River Isis. As was often the case such opinions were not welcome. To offer them, let alone act in response, was to admit that humans were no longer in charge of events on their own planet.
In the capital, the Metropolitan Police were quietly issued with guns. The men of H Division, long regarded as a hotbed of crime, also carried cutlasses. A large number of police had disappeared, having fled with their families. For the moment the streets of London were quiet, but the Martians were coming.
THE BATTLE OF CHERTSEY
All day on Wednesday the Martians continued a slow, steady advance towards London. They were methodically clearing each town and hamlet as they went, burning everything they could or using Black Smoke to kill any remaining humans. Refugees jammed the roads, spreading panic or dying as the Martians caught up with them. By now, the Woking and Bisley contingents of the Martians were operating together, and a few brave soldiers stayed behind to send back fragmentary reports by telegraph. Their work allowed the next two significant British actions of the war, at Byfleet and Chertsey. In both cases, Roberts used artillery to its full effect.
At Byfleet two batteries of artillery were positioned beyond the River Wey Navigation Canal near Byfleet Mill, protected on three sides by water. Against human enemies, this would have been a strong position but the canal offered no protection against War Machines. Their stride allowed them to ignore the thin ribbon of water, while their Heat Rays allowed them to strike down any visible enemy. Although the artillerymen didn’t know it, they were in terrible danger.
When the War Machines appeared, the artillery held their fire and then, as H. G. Wells accurately reported, destroyed one machine outright. Twelve-pounder artillery shells struck the control cabin of the machine and smashed it to very small pieces. Shocked by this event, the other War Machines paused for a few seconds. The cheering artillerymen did something exceptionally foolish: they tried to fire another volley. Roberts admitted later that he should have ordered the men to run after the first success.
The seven-strong skirmish line of War Machines fired all their Heat Rays at the same time, sweeping across the two batteries. Not one crew managed a second shot. Only those with the sense to jump into the Wey Navigation stood a chance of living, and those who did so were terribly scalded. Two Martians carried the wreckage back towards their landing grounds. The rest continued their methodical destruction and extermination. One of the survivors reported seeing the strange Red Weed growing along the canal…
When the Martians reached the Thames at Chertsey, they were opposed by artillery batteries. Some guns were cunningly placed in boat houses and waterfront properties. The gunners fired through doors and windows without opening them first, utterly surprising the Martians. This tactic only worked once, as the Martians learned quickly…
Map of London and the Home Counties, showing Woking, Brookwood Cemetery, Chertsey and Aldershot. London and the South East were a most unexpected battleground for the Victorian army, even though its major barracks were located at Aldershot. A conventional invasion of Britain was never considered a serious threat thanks to the overwhelming strength of the Royal Navy. An aerial attack, or one from space, never even merited military consideration.
There was a second artillery position at Chertsey positioned with considerably more cunning. Ten guns were placed inside a row of terraced houses, manhandled into the front parlours, and set up to fire through the front windows, which had been left intact. Once loaded, the artillerymen were withdrawn towards London. Only one sergeant was left with each gun, a lonely and terrifying duty if ever there was one. Even before Byfleet, Lord Roberts and his staff had realized that they could afford to lose weapons but not trained men.
Again, the Martians advanced in line abreast, apparently intent on destroying every large building in the area. Once they were within range, the ten guns fired as one. It was as if the terrace houses had fired a Nelsonian broadside at the Martians. Two of the War Machines staggered away, damaged; one was seen to collapse with a broken leg shortly afterwards. The Martians gave voice to a terrible hooting as the artillerymen fled, under orders not to risk their lives. Fortunately none of the soldiers were killed by the Martians’ hideous response. Immediately, the surviving Martians fired into the artillery-packed houses, which burst into flame. They then liberally doused every other house in the area with Black Smoke from their projectors. It was this that demonstrated that Black Smoke could be fired like water from a hose into a target building. Weeks later, the corpses of many hundreds of civilians, hiding in their own homes, were found. After this, it seemed the Martians had had enough. Three War Machines had been damaged. They formed a defensive circle, and didn’t move for the rest of the day.
The British Army, meanwhile, had been moving troops out of Aldershot and sending them south by rail, along the coast and then north up the Brighton line. All train movement near the Martians was now too dangerous to be attempted, although Winston Churchill had not received that particular message…
HMS REVENGE
Over the next two days, the Brookwood Martians probed to the south and west, following the railway line. Finding little resistance, they did not indulge in wholesale destruction but instead took captives, using Fighting Machines to herd humans into the waiting tentacles of Handling Machines. The prisoners were caged at three Surrey landing sites, as food for the Martians.
The 2nd Battalion, the Bedfordshire Regiment, had been ordered to patrol towards Brookwood, and engage the Martians if possible. Instead their morale collapsed, and the Bedfordshires melted away. This reluctance to engage such a superior enemy was entirely well-founded, but ‘Martian Funk’ was becoming a problem. Sending men to fight was one thing, sending them to be roasted with no chance of reply was something else. The senior major in the battalion was later found dead at his own hand.
Two more Cylinders landed at Kew, and caused extensive damage to the surrounding area. One Cylinder
slid through the gardens, destroying the greenhouses and plantations. The loss to botanic science was impossible to measure, but fortunately the specimens of Triffidus celestus in the confidential greenhouse did not escape or survive. Mankind did not need a second enemy at this point. Many nearby houses collapsed, leaving little standing for approximately 200 yards (180m) in any direction. The second Cylinder completed the destruction. The Martians were unharmed and seen outside the Cylinder some eight hours later. They lost little time in assembling their Fighting and Handling Machines and, forewarned by their fellows, mounted patrols around their new home.
In London’s West End there was an uneasy atmosphere. Large groups of the poor were roaming around, although not yet looting. Armed police and soldiers waited for trouble. By Thursday night there was rioting in the East End. The dispossessed had nothing to lose, even with the Martian threat. Shops and public houses were ransacked and then drink fuelled nastier, darker trouble. Immigrants, in particular the Chinese and Jewish communities, were attacked for ‘being in league with the Martians’; this was a vicious excuse to justify old prejudices. In Limehouse, the Chinese sided with the police for protection; it was rumoured that ‘The Lord of Strange Deaths’ ordered all members of the tongs to defend their people. True or not, there was little trouble in the area and Jewish families took refuge there.
HMS Revenge, a Royal Sovereign-class battleship, was run aground in the Thames on Admiral Fisher’s orders and then used to shell Martian positions. Her guns had sufficient range to hit most of London if required. Her captain, Lord Charles Beresford, was patriotic enough to destroy London to save it.
