chapter-3

Chapter 3. My younger brother was in London when the Martians fell at Woking. He was a

medical student studying for an examination, and he did not hear about their arrival until

Saturday morning. The morning papers on Saturday gave only a short report. The story said that

the Martians had killed a number of people with a quick -firing gun. It said, the Martians

have not moved from the pit into which they have fallen, and they don't seem able to do

so. The afternoon papers only wrote about the soldiers on the common and the burning

of the woods between Woking and Wabridge. Nothing about the fighting was known that night,

the night that I had gone to leatherhead and back. My brother was not worried about us

because he had read in the papers that the cylinder was three kilometres from my house.

He decided to visit me that night in order to see the things before they were killed. He

sent a telegram which never reached me. When he arrived at Waterloo Station in London on

Saturday night, he learned that an accident prevented trains from going to Woking. He

was not told what kind of accident it was. There was very little excitement in the station.

Few people connected the problem with the Martians. In fact, lots of Londoners did not

hear of the Martians until the panic of Monday morning. Those who read about them on Sunday morning

did not really understand the severity of the situation. Londoners are used to feeling safe,

and shocking news is very common and usual in the papers, so they did not panic when they read

news like. About seven o 'clock last night, the Martians came out of the cylinder,

completely destroyed Woking Station, and the houses around it and killed 500 soldiers.

No details are known. Machine guns have been useless against them, and field guns have been

deactivated by them. The Martians seem to be moving slowly towards Chirzi. The people in West Surrey

are very anxious. No one in London knew what the Martians looked like, and there was still

a fixed idea that they were very slow, crawling, moving painfully. Such words were used in all the

earlier reports. The Sunday papers printed separate editions as further news came. Late in the afternoon,

the authorities told the papers that the people of Walton and Wabridge and all that area were

pouring along the roads towards London. My brother went to Waterloo station again to find out if

the lines were open. People were interested, but no one seemed to be much affected by the strange

news. At the station, he heard for the first time that the Windsor and Chirzi lines were closed.

They told him that several unusual telegrams had been received in the morning from Biflete

and Chirzi stations, but that they had suddenly stopped coming. My brother could get very little

detail out of them. There's fighting going on around Wabridge was the only information they gave him.

The train service was now very disorganized. Quite a number of people who had been expecting

friends to arrive were standing at the station. A man talked to my brother.

There are many people driving into Kingston in carts and things with boxes of valuables,

he said. They come from Wabridge and Walton, and they say guns have been heard at Chirzi,

heavy firing. Soldiers told them to leave at once because the Martians are coming.

What does it all mean? The Martians can't get out of their pit, can they? My brother could

not answer. About five o 'clock, the crowd in the station became very excited when the line

between the southeastern and the southwestern stations was opened and trains carrying huge

guns and soldiers passed through. A little later, the police came into the station and began to send

the people away from the station, and my brother went out into the street again. On the bridge,

some people were watching a strange brown liquid that came down the river. The sun was just setting,

and the clock tower and the houses of Parliament stood against one of the most peaceful skies.

There was talk of a floating body. In Wellington Street, my brother met two men selling still wet

newspapers. Terrible tragedy, they cried. Fighting at Wabridge, full description, London in danger.

He bought a copy of the paper. It was only then that he realized the full power and terror of these

monsters. He learned that they were not just a few small, slow -moving creatures, but that they were

mines controlling enormous mechanical bodies, and they could move quickly and attack with such

power that even the most powerful guns could not stop them. They were described as

huge spider -like machines, nearly thirty metres high, as fast as an express train and able to

shoot out a beam of heat. Many field guns had been placed in the countryside near Horsell Common,

and especially between Woking and London. Five of the machines had been seen moving towards the Thames,

and thankfully one of them had been destroyed. Heavy losses of soldiers were mentioned it,

but the report was optimistic. The Martians had been pushed back. They were not unbeatable.

They had gone back to their tree angle of cylinders in the circle around walking.

Guns were rapidly transferred from Windsor, Portsmouth, Aldershot and Woolwich.

Altogether, 116 were in position, mainly in and around London.

The situation was very strange and serious, said the report, but the public was asked to avoid

and discourage panic. The Martians were strange and terrible, but there could not be more than

twenty of them against our millions. All down Wellington Street people could be seen reading the

paper. Men came running from buses to get copies. The news excited people very much.

Going along the Strand to Trafalgar Square, my brother saw some of the refugees from West Surrey.

There was a man with his wife and two boys, and some furniture in a cart. Close behind him came

a wagon with five or six people in it, and some boxes and things.

The people looked exhausted. Behind them came a man in workday clothes, riding an old -fashioned

tricycle. He was dirty and white in the face. My brother turned down towards Victoria Station

and saw more people like them. He thought that he might see me too. He noticed an unusual number

of police controlling the traffic. Some of the refugees were exchanging news with the people on the

buses. My brother spoke to some, but none of them could tell him any news of woking,

except one man, who told him that woking had been completely destroyed the previous night.

At about eight o 'clock, a noise of heavy firing was heard all over the south of London.

My brother walked from Westminster to his apartment near Regent's Park. He was now extremely worried

about me. There were one or two carts with refugees passing along Oxford Street,

but the news was spreading slowly, so people in Regent Street and Portland Place were taking

their night walk as usual. The night was warm and still, and a little stuffy. The sound of guns

continued, and after midnight there seemed to be lightning in the south. My brother read and re -read

the paper, fearing the worst for me. He was impatient and after supper went out again.

He returned and tried to focus on his examination notes. He went to bed a little after midnight,

and was woken up in the early hours of Monday morning by the sound of knocking on doors,

feet running in the street, distant drumming and the ringing of bells.

For a moment he lay in bed shocked, wondering whether the world had gone mad. Then he jumped

out of bed and ran to the window. Up and down the street there were people opening windows and

heads appearing. People were shouting questions. They are coming, shouted a policeman banging at the

door. The Martians are coming. The sound of drums and ringing of church bells were warning people.

A closed carriage came up the street, turning noisily at the corner. Close behind came a couple of cabs

and other vehicles, rushing to chalk farm station where trains were waiting to leave.

For a long time my brother stared out of the window, watching the policeman banging at the doors.

He decided to go out. He began to get dressed, running with each piece of clothing to the window

in order not to miss any of the growing excitement. Then the men selling early newspapers came shouting

into the street, London in danger, the Kingston and Richmond defences broken, killing in the Thames

Valley and all around him, in the rooms below, in the houses on each side and across the road,

and from the east to the west and from the north to the south, all across London.

People were opening windows to stare out and ask questions, getting dressed quickly as the first

wave of the storm of fear passed through the streets. It was the beginning of the great panic.

London was woken up in the early hours of Monday morning to a real sense of danger.

Unable to learn what was happening from his window, my brother went out into the street,

just as the sky grew pink with the early dawn. The number of people escaping on foot and in vehicles

grew every moment. Black smoke, he heard people crying. Black smoke. As my brother hesitated at

the door, he saw a man selling papers. The man was running away and selling his papers for a

shilling each as he ran, an absurd mixture of profit and panic. My brother bought a paper,

and from this paper he read that terrible report of the commander in chief. The Martians send out

enormous clouds of a black and poisonous smoke. They have killed our gunners, destroyed Richmond,

Kingston and Wimbledon, and are moving slowly towards London, destroying everything on the way.

It is impossible to stop them. There is no safety from the black smoke except by running away.

The six million people in the city were preparing to run away. Soon they would all be moving to the

north. Black smoke. The voices cried. Fire. The bells of the church rang. A cart smashed.

People screamed. Yellow lights went on and off in the houses. And in the sky above,

the dawn was growing brighter. My brother heard footsteps running around in the rooms and up

and down the stairs. As he began to realize the severity of things, he put all his money,

ten pounds altogether, into his pockets, and went out again into the streets.

While the curates sat and talked wildly to me behind the bushes in the fields near Halliford,

and while my brother was watching the refugees rush over Westminster Bridge,

the Martians had started attacking again. Most of them remained busy with preparations on

Horssell Common until nine that night. But three of them came out about eight o 'clock,

and moving slowly, made their way towards Ripley and Wabridge, and came in sight of the waiting guns.

These Martians moved in a line, two kilometers apart from each other.

They communicated by loud howls. We were at Upper Halliford when we heard the howling and the firing

of the guns at Ripley and St. George's Hill. The Ripley Gunners, who were young volunteers,

fired one shell each and ran away, while the Martian, without using his heat ray,

walked over them and their guns. The Gunners at St. George's Hill, however, were more experienced.

They were hidden in the woods, so they were not noticed by the Martian nearest to them.

They fired their guns carefully and effectively, the shells exploded all around the giant,

and after taking a few steps forward, it went down. One of its three legs had been smashed.

Everybody shouted and the guns were reloaded. The Martian howled, and the two others answering

it appeared over the trees to the south. They used their heat rays on the Gunners.

The explosives blew up. The trees all around the guns caught fire, and only one or two of the men

half hour. The Martian that had been injured crawled out of its machine and began repairing its leg.

About nine, the machine was seen moving in the trees again. A few minutes after nine,

the three were joined by four other Martians, each carrying a thick black tube.

A similar tube was given to each of the three, and the seven spread out at equal distances,

forming a curved line between Wabridge and Ripley.

As soon as they began to move, a dozen signal rockets were sent from the hills

to warn the waiting Gunners around Dittin and Eesha. At the same time, four of the Martians

crossed the river, and two of them, black against the western sky, came into sight as

the Curate and I hurried along the road to the north. Seeing this, the Curate screamed and began

running. I knew it was no good running from a Martian, so I crawled through the bushes by the

side of the road. He looked back, saw what I was doing, and turned to join me.

After minutes that seemed endless, we heard the sound of a gun in the distance,

then another one and then another. The Martian closest to us raised his tube and fired it.

The other one did the same. There was no flash, no smoke, just a very loud noise.

I was so excited that I crawled out of the bushes and stared. As I did so, another Martian

fired its tube. I expected to see smoke or fire, but all I saw was the deep blue sky above,

with one single star. Then there was silence.

What's happened? Asked the Curate, standing up beside me.

I don't know, I replied.

I looked at the Martian again and saw he was moving eastward along the riverbank.

Every moment I expected gunfire, but nothing happened.

The figure of the Martian grew smaller as it moved back, and shortly it disappeared into the

coming night. The Curate and I climbed up the hill. Towards Sunbury we saw something dark,

something like a hill. Then, across the river, we saw another dark hill. These hills grew lower

and broader as we stared. I looked northward, and there I saw a third of these cloudy black hills.

Everything had suddenly become very still. Far away to the southeast we heard the Martians howling

to one another, and then we heard their guns in the distance.

But there was no reply from our gunners. At the time we could not understand them,

but later I learned the meaning of these black hills. Each of the Martians had fired a large

cylinder. Some fired only one, some two. When the cylinders hit the ground, they let out an

enormous amount of thick black smoke, which formed a cloud in the air and slowly moved down like

a hill that spread over the country. And that smoke was deadly to breathe.

The smoke was very heavy, so when it came down to the ground it behaved like a liquid,

and poured into the valleys and waters. And when it met the water a chemical action occurred,

and it turned into a powder. The smoke stayed close to the ground,

so it was possible to escape its poison by climbing on tall trees and on the roofs and

upper floors of high houses. The Martians would get rid of the black smoke when they did not need

it anymore. They cleared the air by blowing steam at it. They did this to the black clouds near us,

as we watched from a window of an empty house in Upper Halliford. We could see the searchlights

on Richmond Hill and Kingston Hill. About eleven, the windows shook, and we heard the sound of the

fourth cylinder fell, a bright green meteor, in Bushey Park. So, in a very systematic way,

the Martians spread this strange smoke over the country towards London. They had now formed a

line from Hanwell to Coombe. They continued to let out the poisonous cloud all night long.

Our gunners had no chance against them. If there was a possibility of hidden guns,

they used the black smoke, and if our guns were visible, they used the heat ray.

By midnight, the trees along the slopes of Richmond Park were on fire,

and the black smoke covered the whole Thames Valley. They did not use the heat ray too much

that night either, because they had limited material to produce it, or because they did not

want to destroy the country. They wanted to defeat the people, and they certainly succeeded.

After Sunday night, no men could stand against them.

Before dawn, the black smoke was pouring through the streets of Richmond.

The government, in a last effort, told the population of London to run away.

You can understand the wave of fear that swept through the greatest city in the world in the

early hours of Monday. People were rushing to the railway stations, to the boats on the Thames,

trying to get northward and eastward. By ten o 'clock, the authorities were losing control.

Trains on all the railway lines north of the Thames were being filled. People were fighting for

standing room in the carriages, even at two o 'clock. By three, people were pushing and walking over

each other. Guns were fired, people were stabbed, and the police, who had been sent to direct the

traffic, were being violent. And as the day went by, a growing number of people started leaving the

stations and going towards the roads northward. By midday the black smoke had been seen along the

Thames, cutting off all escape across the bridges. Another cloud appeared over ealing, and caught a

group of survivors who were unable to escape. After trying without success to take a train at

Chalk Farm Station, my brother went to the road, avoided getting hit by some vehicles,

and by luck, found himself first in line in front of a bicycle shop and was able to get a bicycle.

He burst the front tire as he pulled it out of the window, but fortunately he got it to work.

So he escaped the panic of London and reached Edgware about seven, hungry and exhausted.

About two kilometers from Edgware, one of the wheels broke. He left the bicycle by the

roadside and started walking. There were shops half opened in the main street of the village,

and people stood on the pavement and in the doorways, looking in surprise at the growing

crowd of refugees. My brother was able to get some food at an inn.

He remained in Edgware for some time, not knowing what to do. Then he decided to go to Chelmsford,

where he had some friends. So he started on his way eastward.

He passed several farmhouses and some little places whose names he did not learn. He met two

ladies who were in trouble. He traveled the rest of the way together with them.

He learned that they were the wife and the younger sister of a doctor living in Stanmore.

The doctor had heard about the Martians at a railway station. He had hurried home,

packed some food and placing his gun under the seat, had told the women to drive to Edgware

and get a train. He said he would talk to the neighbors and would catch up with them at about

half past four in the morning. It was nearly nine now, but he had not come. The two women

could not stop in Edgware because of the traffic, so they had come into the side road where they

were attacked by robbers. Fortunately, my brother had arrived and saved them.

My brother promised to stay with them until they could decide what to do or until the doctor

arrived. They camped by the side of the road. The day got hotter and after a time they became

quit and waited unisily. Several people passed by, telling them bits and pieces of information.

My brother could clearly see the severity of the situation. He told the women about the

necessity to escape. He said that the best way to go was across Essex towards Harwich and then

to leave the country by sea. Mrs. Elphinstone, that was the name of the older woman, did not want

to go and kept calling for George, her husband. Her sister -in -law was very quiet and at last agreed

with my brother's suggestion. So, planning to cross the great North Road, they went on towards

Barnet. As they approached Barnet, they saw more and more people. Most of them looked exhausted and

dirty. My brother noticed a pale grey smoke rising among the houses in front of them. Mrs. Elphinstone

cried out when she saw red flames going up above the houses in front of them.

Good heavens, she said. What is this you are driving us into?

My brother stopped the horse. They had reached the crossroads. The main road was full of people

rushing northward. There was a great cloud of dust. The hurrying feet of horses and people and

the wheels of the vehicles constantly raised the dust. Make way, people were shouting. Make way.

It was a wild stream of dirty, hurrying people. As they approached the main road, the black

forms of the people grew clearer. Edgware and chalk farm had been chaotic, but this was completely

different. The whole population was moving. There were countless cabs, carriages, shop carts and wagons.

Clear the way? Cried the voices. The Martians are coming. There were all kinds of people. Women,

men, children, rich and poor, workmen, shopmen, soldiers. But they all had some things in common.

Their skins were dry, and their lips were black and cracked from the dust. And there was fear and

pain in their faces. My brother saw Mrs. Elphinstone covering her eyes. Let's go back, he shouted,

and began turning the horse round. We cannot cross this. They went back a hundred meters the way

they had come, until they no longer saw the crowd. They passed a dying man lying on the road,

white and sweaty. The two women sat silently in their seat, shaking.

Then my brother stopped again. Miss Elphinstone looked white and pale, and her sister -in -law sat

crying. My brother was shocked and confused. He realized that the only way to survive was to go

through the crowd. We must go back that way, he said, and turned the horse round again.

Miss Elphinstone showed courage that day. My brother got off to stop a horse, and she moved to

the front seat to drive the cart. They came close to a wagon that was going at lightning speed.

In another moment they were caught and swept forward by the stream. My brother climbed back

into the cart. He gave the gun to her. Pointed at the man behind if he pushes too hard, he said.

He tried to get to the right side of the road. But once they got into the stream of vehicles,

he was not able to control where they went. They went through Barnet and were nearly two

kilometers outside the town before they could get to the opposite side of the road.

They went eastward through Hadley, and there they met a crowd of people drinking at the stream,

and some fighting to get water. Near east Barnet they saw two trains full of people moving

northward slowly. There they stopped for the rest of the afternoon because they were all exhausted.

They were beginning to feel hungry. The night was cold and none of them slept.

In the evening many people came hurrying along the road near their stopping place,

escaping from unknown dangers and going in the direction from which my brother had come.

If the Martians had wanted to destroy everything, they could have killed the whole

population of London on Monday, as the people slowly moved out towards the neighbouring towns.

If one had watched London from a balloon in the sky that morning, one would have seen every road

running out of the city filled with the refugees. In the history of the world,

never had so many human beings moved and suffered together. And this was not even a well -organised

walk, it was a walk of panic, without order and without a goal. Six million people unprepared and

unprotected. It was the beginning of the death of humankind, and over the blue hills to the south

of the river, the Martians continued working, spreading their poison cloud over each part of the

country one by one. They destroyed the railways and any weapons they found. They seemed in no hurry

and did not go beyond the central part of London that day. Many people in London stayed in their

houses that Monday morning and died at home, poisoned by the black smoke. Until about midday,

the river Thames was still full of boats and ships that had stayed for the enormous amounts of money

offered by the refugees. It is said that many who swam out to these ships were drowned.

About one o 'clock, a thin cloud of black smoke appeared coming through Black Fryer's bridge.

That was when the panic and chaos started, and the boats and ships tried to get away,

all at the same time. Many got stuck under the tower bridge, and the sailors had to fight

against the people who tried to get on the boats. When, an hour later, a Martian appeared beyond

the clock tower and walked down the river, there was only broken pieces of boats in the water.

The sixth cylinder fell in Wimbledon. My brother saw the green flash of it far beyond the hills,

as he watched with the two women in the cart in a field. On Tuesday, the three of them,

still determined to leave the country by sea, went through the busy country towards Colchester.

That day the refugees began to realize they needed food. As they grew hungry, they began to steal.

Farmers had to defend their animals and crops with guns in their hands. Some people were going eastward,

and some were even going back to London to get food. My brother heard that the members of the

government had gathered in Birmingham, and that enormous amounts of explosives were being prepared

to be used in the Midland counties. He was told that the Midland Railway Company had started working

again and was running northward trains from St. Albans. He also heard that, in the next 24 hours,

bread would be distributed to the people. Despite this information, he did not change his plan of

escape, and the three continued going eastward. That night, the seventh cylinder fell in Primrose

Hill. On Wednesday, my brother and the two women reached Chelmsford. Some people there,

who called themselves the Committee of Public Supply, took their horse. Although they were very

hungry, my brother decided to keep travelling on foot towards the coast. Near Tillingham,

they saw the sea and the most amazing crowd of ships of all kinds. Because the sailors could

no longer come up the Thames, they came onto the Essex coast to take people.

Close to the shore were many fishing boats, English, scotch, French, Dutch and Swedish,

steamboats, yachts and electric boats. Further away were the bigger ships, cargo ships, coal ships,

oil tankers and passenger ships from Southampton and Hamburg. About three kilometers outlay a warship,

this was the thunderchild. It was the only warship in sight, but far away to the right over the sea,

there was a layer of black smoke indicating the position of the other warships. They were waiting

in line ready for action, across the mouth of the Thames. When she saw the sea, Mrs. Elphinstone

panicked. She said she had never been out of England before, and she would rather die than be

alone in a foreign country. The poor woman had become increasingly worried,

fearful and depressed during the two day's journey. She wanted to return to Stanmore.

Things had always been well and safe in Stanmore. They would find George at Stanmore.

With great difficulty, they got her down to the beach. My brother was able to persuade

some men in a steamboat to take them. They sent a boat and asked for 36 pounds to take the three

of them. They said they were going to Ostend in Belgium.

About two o 'clock my brother and the two women got onto the boat.

There was food, although very expensive, and the three of them had a meal. There were already

40 passengers on board. Some of them had spent all their money to get on the boat,

but the captain waited until five in the afternoon, picking up more passengers until

the boat was dangerously crowded. He would have remained longer, but the sound of guns began in the

south, so he decided to leave. The Thunderchild fired a small gun and raised a string of flags.

At the same time far away in the southeast, the three warships appeared one after the other behind

clouds of black smoke. The little steamboat was on its way eastward when a Martian appeared,

small in the distance, moving along the coast. The captain shouted and the boat picked up speed.

It was the first Martian my brother had seen. He stood amazed watching the machine moving towards

the ships. Then far away came another one and then another, even further away.

Towards the northwest my brother saw the crowd of ships already moving away. One ship passed behind

another. Another turned around. Steamships whistled and gave off steam.

Sales were let out, and boats rushed here and there. As my brother watched, suddenly their boat

turned around and threw him off the seat where he was standing. He heard people shouting and running.

He got up and looked to the right. Not a hundred metres away, the Thunderchild cut through the

water, throwing huge waves towards their boat. A wave of water came over and blinded my brother

for a moment. When he could see again, the warship had passed and was rushing towards the land. He

looked at the Martians again and saw the three of them now close together, standing so far out

that their legs were almost completely underwater. It seemed to him that they were watching the

warship with astonishment. The Thunderchild fired no gun. It simply went at full speed towards them.

They did not know what it was. It was going so fast that in a minute it was halfway between the

steamboat and the Martians. Suddenly, the nearest Martian fired a cylinder of the black smoke at the

warship. It hit its left side and sent up a black cloud. The ship moved away from it.

The three Martians moved in the water back towards the shore. One of them raised the heat ray

generator. He held it pointing downward, and a cloud of steam came up from the water as it hit the

warship. A flame went up through the steam, and then the Martian lost its balance. In another moment

it went down, and water and steam went up high in the air. The guns of the Thunderchild went off

one after the other, and one shot hit the water close by the steamboat.

Seeing the Martians fall, the captain yelled, and all the passengers on the boat shouted together.

Beyond the smoke and steam came something long and black, something on fire. The warship was

still alive. Its engines were working. It went straight towards the second Martian, and was within

a hundred meters of it when the heat ray hit. Then it blew up with a violent bang. The Martian

almost fell with the force of the explosion, and a moment later the burning warship, still moving

forward, crashed into it like it was made of cardboard. My brother shouted. A boiling cloud of

steam hit everything again. Two shouted the captain. Everyone on the steamboat was shouting and

cheering. Then they heard the cheers from the other ships and boats. The steam stayed in the air

for many minutes, hiding the third Martian and the coast. Their boat was moving steadily out to sea

and away from the fight. When the steam cleared, they could no longer see the Thunderchild or the

third Martian. But the other warships were now quite close to the shore. The steamboat continued to

move away as the warships slowly approached the coast. The ships carrying the refugees were

going to the northeast. Suddenly, out of the golden sunset came the sound of guns, and they saw

black shadows moving. Everyone rushed to the side of the boat and looked to the west,

but nothing was visible. A cloud of smoke rose and hid the sun. The steamboat continued on its way.

The sun sank into grey clouds, the sky darkened, and the evening star appeared.

Then the captain cried out and pointed. Something went up into the sky out of the

grayness, something flat and broad and very large. It sank slowly and disappeared into the night,

and as it flew, it rained down darkness on the land.