by Mike Brunton
Meanwhile, most Thames traffic had been downstream, carrying refugees, but HMS Revenge worked her way upstream until she grounded near Greenwich. Jackie Fisher had ordered the vessel into London, as he had wanted to use her as a floating fortress against the wishes of the other Sea Lords.
HMS Revenge was one of the powerful Royal Sovereign-class battleships, as formidable a war machine as humans could make. She had been launched in 1892, and carried four 13½in (340mm) main guns, and 6in (150mm) secondary guns, 6-pounder and 3-pounders for close-in defence, along with torpedoes. Her thickest armour was 18in (450mm) of hardened plate.
No effort was made to get the poor away from the East End, although orders were issued to police districts allowing looters, ‘socialists’ and ‘anarchists’ to be shot on sight. Some working class and immigrant areas were thought to be a hotbed of foreign-inspired sedition, although despair, drink and desperation did more to cause trouble than any tub-thumping speeches.
Held in reserve at Portsmouth, Revenge was now a tool of Fisher’s ruthless policies. Each of her main guns could throw a 1,250-pound (570kg) high-explosive shell over 12 nautical miles (22km). Revenge packed a tremendous punch, and to be sure that punch was thrown, Fisher replaced her captain with an officer he knew would have the guts to fire on his own capital city. He metaphorically held his nose and asked Lord Charles Beresford to do the job. There was bad blood between the two men (Beresford disliked Fisher for his lowly origins), and Beresford was a ‘loose cannon’ in many ways (he feuded bitterly with the Prince of Wales). Nevertheless, the Martians needed beating and Charlie Beresford was not a man to step away from a fight. He was the epitome of a ‘John Bull’, bluff, manly and courageous to a fault. And he had the grit to do absolutely anything to beat the Martians.
Although rejected by the British Army, three quick-firing 1-pounder ‘pom-pom’ guns were used in defence of the Maxim Nordenfelt factory by Maxim’s workers. Two crews were killed by Black Smoke, but the last pom-pom apparently did enough damage to drive off the War Machine. The ‘pom-pom’ name was due to the distinctive sound the weapon made when fired.
HYDE PARK AND PARLIAMENT SQUARE
By now, the wealthy end of London was virtually empty. Those who could afford to run had done so, leaving property to be secured by servants. Many of them had fled too, having loyally locked their masters’ houses up first.
On Saturday a Martian Cylinder landed in Hyde Park, and came to rest in the waters of the Serpentine. The Martians were unbothered when they emerged. It was a mark of confidence that the Martians had planned landings in central London. They had launched this Cylinder many weeks earlier and had known, even then, that the open space of Hyde Park would be near the battle! Even more impressively, Martian mathematics was capable of sending a Cylinder to Hyde Park, a target only 350 acres (1.42km2) in area. The Martians had to hit it after an interplanetary journey of millions of miles. This was marksmanship beyond anything human.
When Lord Roberts realized what the Martians were doing with their landings, and the horrid implication that their war plan was on schedule, he fell into a deep despair. For hours he was depressed and withdrawn. Fortunately, no major decisions were required of him. This was his own personal attack of ‘Martian Funk’, and it is a measure of the man that he pulled himself together and carried on. He would not have been human if he hadn’t been scared of the Martians.
Meanwhile, one of the strangest actions of the war was fought on Sunday 12 August in West Norwood, to the south of London. Hiram Maxim, the father of the machine gun, had workshops there, although the business was not thriving in 1895. One of the Kew War Machines was sweeping the area when it came under fire from Maxim’s workers using a ‘pom-pom’, a 1-pounder quick-firing prototype gun mounted on an artillery carriage. The pom-pom was a scaled-up version of Maxim’s machine gun, firing a 1-pound explosive shell, accurate to a range of some 3,000 yards (2,700m). This was more than enough for Maxim’s workers to ‘have a go’ at the War Machine. They must have startled the Martian or hit something vital, because it retreated as quickly as it could. They kept firing until it was out of range and then, not wishing to push their luck, the workers fled. Interestingly, no Martian War Machines were seen nearby again. This success for the pompom was enough to persuade the British Army to purchase 500 pieces after the war to rearm with sophisticated and powerful weapons.
At almost the same time, another Martian force reached central London, presumably looking to link up with their fellows in Hyde Park. The Cylinder in the Serpentine had been under steady fire from HMS Revenge but without any visible effect. Beresford, having sent observers to the top of St Paul’s to report the fall of shot, was conserving ammunition for targets he could harm. His observers now reported that he had his targets.
The Martians had followed the banks of the Thames into London, laying waste to everything on either side. For political rather than military reasons, Roberts had been ordered to make a stand around the Palace of Westminster. The government (rightly) considered that it would be a fatal blow to the nation’s prestige and morale if Westminster was lost without a fight. It was the arrival of the Martians that galvanized Roberts and got him back into action. He had plenty of troops on hand, as the remainder of the Aldershot garrison had arrived in central London. He lacked artillery, but hoped to make up for this by issuing his men with service packs stuffed with explosives. These were to be hurled at the Martians when the opportunity presented itself. Given the weight of the packs, this would obviously be a suicidal act.
The Coldstream and 2nd Grenadier Guards from Wellington Barracks were the first to open fire from their positions within the Palace of Westminster itself. Their fire did absolutely nothing to the Martians at all, other than attract their attention. Fire from HMS Revenge did a little more harm, making the Martians scuttle forward once they were bracketed by shots (the Martians were learning about human abilities and tactics), and shaking two machines badly. They turned and fired into the Palace, setting fire to both the Commons and the Lords. The clock tower burst into flames, and collapsed. Big Ben – the bell – plunged downwards with a mournful clanging noise. For a moment, all the British stopped firing. The Martians’ symbolic triumph – a symbolism only obvious to human onlookers – did not last long. While crossing Westminster Palace Green, one Fighting Machine stepped onto a weak spot in the ground. This was the line of the Underground tunnel below the Green, part of the District Line. The tunnel was only just below the surface, built using cut and cover, and its roof was not strong enough to support the Martian machine. The War Machine’s leg plunged through the crust and into the tunnel below. The result was exactly the same as a horse stepping into a rabbit hole, and just as disastrous: the machine’s leg twisted and snapped, and the control cabin pitched sideways to land in the tunnel with a terrible crash. It did not take long for a mass of infantry to rush forwards and pour rifle fire down onto the stricken Martian. This did no harm, but explosive packs finished the Martian off.
This setback was greeted by howls and hoots from the remaining War Machines. For want of a better term, they all went berserk, releasing clouds of Black Smoke, and sending jets of the filthy stuff into every large building they could see. Stunned by this reaction, those few Guards who still lived tried to run, and died as they fled. The rest of the troops around Westminster died in place, struck down by the Black Smoke. Roberts was saved by the quick thinking of his staff officers who got him away on horseback along the Thames Embankment. He was also lucky that the Martians changed tactics at this point and began the systematic gassing of London. Only those who ran immediately and headed away from the Thames survived the next few hours. From Westminster Abbey to the Tower, the northern shore of the Thames was turned into a morgue by the Black Smoke. Further away from the river, human looters were beginning a spree of robbery and violence that lasted for days.
HMS Revenge kept up a harassing fire on the Martians, but could not lay her guns fast enough to keep up with such rel
atively nimble targets. The Martians soon had a line of sight to Revenge and melted the bow off the ship. The tremendous heat set off explosions in her magazines and HMS Revenge ceased firing. There was no denying that London now had new masters. As darkness fell, so did another Cylinder, although its landing site was to remain a mystery for decades.
The destruction of Westminster, the ‘Mother of Parliaments’, was a tremendous blow to British morale and prestige. It is highly probable that the event meant nothing at all to the Martians who could not have known of the building’s significance as they carried out the action. All the troops defending the palace were killed. The British defeat at Westminster sent shock waves through the government, the Empire, and the other Great Powers. When reports reached Berlin, for example, Kaiser Wilhelm II was simultaneously distressed for his grandmother Queen Victoria, and elated by the humiliation inflicted on British democracy by the Martians. In public Wilhelm proclaimed his sympathies for the British cause; in private he instructed his chancellor, Hohenlohe, and the Imperial General Staff to move against British colonies when opportunities arose. As for the British, the burning of Westminster was the signal to abandon London to the Martians. Any kind of conventional defence was at an end. The remaining troops in London were ordered to regroup in St Albans.
HMS THUNDER CHILD
The Martians pushed on past London, heading along the Thames towards the North Sea. Panicked refugees went before them, and many tens of thousands died as the War Machines advanced. The Martians now seemed intent upon wholesale murder.
We come now to the battle that the Martians definitely lost during the Invasion. The captain and crew of HMS Thunder Child won a pyrrhic victory but by this point any victory at all was welcome.
HMS Thunder Child was a ‘torpedo ram’, one of only three such vessels constructed for the Royal Navy. To modern eyes, the Thunder Child and her sisters look rather like submarines that haven’t quite worked up the nerve to go under the water! The Thunder Child and her sister ships, HMS Polyphemus and HMS Adventure, were not a particularly successful design. The ships were built around five 14in (350mm) torpedo tubes and were a bulbous cylindrical shape. As well as the torpedoes (and a good supply of reloads) the class also had deck-mounted Nordenfelt guns and a reinforced bow ram. The Nordenfelts were 1in (25mm) calibre guns with four barrels; they weren’t quite automatic weapons, but they fired a lot of shells in a short time. The ram was included as a weapon of last resort. With a designed top speed of just under 18 knots (33km/h) (and the Thunder Child never achieved that in all her service), it was going to be a brave or foolish captain who tried to ram an enemy. Launched in 1882, Thunder Child was the second in the class and starting to show her age.
HMS Thunder Child was, however, the ship that encountered and fought three Martian War Machines. Her captain, Commander Horatio Welles, had been ordered to protect the pleasure steamers that were collecting refugees from Southend piers and carrying them to ‘safety’ along the East Anglian coast. When the War Machines appeared, Welles showed no hesitation. He turned towards the Martians wading along the estuary and put on speed.
Lacking oceans on their home planet, the Martians had no understanding of the dangers posed by warships and, in particular, torpedoes. Welles was given every chance to conduct a textbook attack. Aiming straight for the leading machine, he fired a spread of torpedoes at it, and was good enough to blow one of its legs off. The Machine collapsed into the water and a large secondary explosion marked its end. With no time to withdraw Welles pressed home his attack on a second, nearby machine. Every Nordenfelt aboard was trained on the War Machine’s cabin, and shortly thereafter the ram struck the second Machine, bringing it crashing down onto the Thunder Child’s deck. In a matter of minutes Welles had done terrible slaughter on the enemy.
As his crew struggled to clear the dead War Machine off the forward deck and Welles altered course towards the third machine, his triumphant charge came to an end. The third Martian recovered its wits and fired its Heat Ray at almost point-blank range into the heart of the Thunder Child. The ship immediately began to list and, her bow being dragged beneath the waves by the weight of the second War Machine, she was obviously doomed. Welles ordered his men to abandon ship and some dived into the water just as the Heat Ray struck again. This time the vessel exploded and sank, taking the second Martian down too. The survivors from Thunder Child expected nothing but death, and to see the destruction of the Southend steamers; instead, there was a tremendous explosion near the last War Machine.
The guns on the artillery range at Shoeburyness had now been turned on the last Martian. This was enough to persuade it to scuttle off back towards London.
Although burned and scalded, five survivors from HMS Thunder Child were picked up and eventually recovered from their wounds. Salty seawater, immediately applied, was just about the best unintentional treatment that they could have had. The rest of the ship’s company, including Welles, was lost. All five gave the same story: that Welles had been the hero of the affair and had closed with the enemy in a fashion that Nelson himself would have cheered. Eventually, Welles received a posthumous Victoria Cross, the only one awarded during the Invasion.
HMS Thunder Child, a torpedo ram launched in 1882, was one of two vessels in her class in the Royal Navy. In action in the Thames Estuary, Lieutenant-Commander George Welles and his crew managed to destroy two Martian War Machines while protecting an evacuation convoy on 13 August. As the Martians waded into the water, Welles drove his ship at best speed towards the War Machines, launching a spread of torpedoes as he did so. Meanwhile the deck guns of the Thunder Child, all 1in Nordenfelts, opened up as the range closed. By sheer luck, one of the torpedoes struck a War Machine in the leg, bringing it down into the estuary. As the two remaining Martians stood over their flailing comrade a second machine fell to the Nordenfelts’ fire. Welles kept his course steady and, closing with no thought of danger, rammed the downed machines, destroying them utterly. In the same moment the Thunder Child was split apart by the beam of the last Martian’s Heat Ray and was lost; the Martian destroyed Thunder Child’s escape rafts as well.
THE ARMY WITHDRAWS
By Tuesday morning it was obvious to all the foreign observers left alive that London was entirely lost to the Martians. The British government and Lord Roberts initially refused to accept that this was the case, although Roberts may have been less than honest with his political masters. He and his staff had not slept in days, and they were at a very low ebb. He had ordered every unit out of London, to rally around St Albans. He sent nothing into Essex or Kent, where most of the refugees had headed. He didn’t want his troops near civilians because he didn’t want to put civilians at risk.
Privately, he hoped that St Albans was far enough away from Martians to give his forces some time to regroup and recover a little. The troops from the London and Aldershot garrisons had been badly shaken by what they had seen, and by witnessing the effectiveness of Martian weaponry. Roberts was no longer entirely sure that he could trust his men to stand and fight. Publicly, or at least when dealing with the Cabinet from Oxford, he maintained that he was awaiting a chance to take back the city. Setbacks would, of course, soon be righted.
The Blackheath landing gave the British Army a chance to attack the Martians when they were still vulnerable. Royal Engineers laboured for many hours to place explosives around the newly crashed Cylinder at Blackheath. As a Martian War Machine from another site approached, the charges were detonated and the Blackheath Martians were killed by concussive force before they had a chance to emerge.
As the army quietly left, the rioters became the de facto rulers of London. This state of affairs, disastrous as it was for good order, did not last long. The Martians killed many who remained, regardless of social class.
THE ROYAL ENGINEERS’ ATTACK AT BLACKHEATH
Wednesday 14 August saw the arrival of the final Cylinder at Blackheath, and for once the army moved quickly. Tons of explosives were brought u
p the Thames from Chatham and then carried up to the crash site from Greenwich. This was a heroic, Herculean effort by the Royal Engineers. The sappers packed as much explosive as they could around the Cylinder, even though it was still extremely hot. They used fire engines to pump water onto the charges. The idea was to detonate sufficient explosives to crack open the Cylinder, or kill the Martians inside by blast alone. The work was given added urgency as the Cylinder started unscrewing; the sappers knew they had little time before the end cap came off and the Martians emerged.
Then another problem arose: a Martian War Machine appeared in the distance, striding towards the crash site. The sappers set their fuses and fell back. The explosion, when it came, was tremendous: every building within two miles of Blackheath had its windows blown in. The War Machine gave vent to what all the human observers called a bellow of rage, and immediately charged towards the site. The sappers split up into small parties and ran for cover. Eventually every man involved went back to barracks, although it took days for everyone to return safely.
Not one Martian ever emerged alive from the Blackheath landing. The concussive effect of several tons of explosives seems to have killed them all. Later, Lord Roberts pointed out that this success was unlikely ever to be repeated. The Martians were adapting and countering new tactics after seeing them once.
The War Machine that charged to the rescue of its comrades spent many hours setting fire to everything in the area, and releasing Black Smoke. Whether it was mad with grief, anger or some alien emotion will never be known, but it was certainly utterly destructive and apparently uncaring about its own safety. Many buildings were reduced to rubble, and the Royal Observatory was a particular target for its anger. The wreck of HMS Revenge was targeted by a long squirting jet of Black Smoke. As was discovered later, the few who had survived on board Revenge, including Beresford, now died.