The Fighting Begins

Saturday lives in my memory as a day of suspense. It was a day of lassitude too, hot and close, with, I am told, a rapidly fluctuating barometer. I had slept but little, though my wife had succeeded in sleeping, and I rose early. I went into my garden before breakfast and stood listening, but towards the common there was nothing stirring but a lark.

I remember Saturday as a day of suspense. It was also a day of weariness, hot and stuffy. I was told that the barometer was changing rapidly. I had slept very little, though my wife had managed to sleep, and I got up early. Before breakfast, I went into the garden and stood listening. But toward the common, nothing was stirring except a lark.

The milkman came as usual. I heard the rattle of his chariot and I went round to the side gate to ask the latest news. He told me that during the night the Martians had been surrounded by troops, and that guns were expected. Then—a familiar, reassuring note—I heard a train running towards Woking.

The milkman came as usual. I heard his cart rattle and went around to the side gate to ask for the latest news. He told me that troops had surrounded the Martians during the night and that guns were expected. Then I heard a train heading toward Woking. It was a familiar, reassuring sound.

“They aren’t to be killed,” said the milkman, “if that can possibly be avoided.”

“They must not be killed,” said the milkman, “if it can possibly be avoided.”

I saw my neighbour gardening, chatted with him for a time, and then strolled in to breakfast. It was a most unexceptional morning. My neighbour was of opinion that the troops would be able to capture or to destroy the Martians during the day.

I saw my neighbor gardening and chatted with him for a while. Then I went inside for breakfast. It was a perfectly ordinary morning. My neighbor thought the troops would be able to capture or destroy the Martians that day.

“It’s a pity they make themselves so unapproachable,” he said. “It would be curious to know how they live on another planet; we might learn a thing or two.”

“It’s a shame they make themselves so hard to approach,” he said. “It would be interesting to know how they live on another planet. We might learn a thing or two.”

He came up to the fence and extended a handful of strawberries, for his gardening was as generous as it was enthusiastic. At the same time he told me of the burning of the pine woods about the Byfleet Golf Links.

He came up to the fence and offered me a handful of strawberries. He was as generous with his garden as he was enthusiastic about it. At the same time, he told me that the pine woods around the Byfleet Golf Links had burned.

“They say,” said he, “that there’s another of those blessed things fallen there—number two. But one’s enough, surely. This lot’ll cost the insurance people a pretty penny before everything’s settled.” He laughed with an air of the greatest good humour as he said this. The woods, he said, were still burning, and pointed out a haze of smoke to me. “They will be hot under foot for days, on account of the thick soil of pine needles and turf,” he said, and then grew serious over “poor Ogilvy.”

“They say,” he said, “that another of those blessed things has fallen there, number two. But one is enough, surely. This will cost the insurance companies a pretty penny before everything is settled.” He laughed cheerfully as he said this. He said the woods were still burning and pointed out a haze of smoke. “The ground will be hot underfoot for days because of the thick layer of pine needles and turf,” he said. Then he grew serious as he spoke of “poor Ogilvy.”

After breakfast, instead of working, I decided to walk down towards the common. Under the railway bridge I found a group of soldiers—sappers, I think, men in small round caps, dirty red jackets unbuttoned, and showing their blue shirts, dark trousers, and boots coming to the calf. They told me no one was allowed over the canal, and, looking along the road towards the bridge, I saw one of the Cardigan men standing sentinel there. I talked with these soldiers for a time; I told them of my sight of the Martians on the previous evening. None of them had seen the Martians, and they had but the vaguest ideas of them, so that they plied me with questions. They said that they did not know who had authorised the movements of the troops; their idea was that a dispute had arisen at the Horse Guards. The ordinary sapper is a great deal better educated than the common soldier, and they discussed the peculiar conditions of the possible fight with some acuteness. I described the Heat-Ray to them, and they began to argue among themselves.

After breakfast, instead of working, I decided to walk down toward the common. Under the railway bridge I found a group of soldiers. I think they were sappers. They wore small round caps, dirty red jackets, dark trousers, and boots that reached their calves. Their jackets were unbuttoned, showing their blue shirts. They told me no one was allowed across the canal. Looking along the road toward the bridge, I saw one of the Cardigan men standing guard there. I talked with the soldiers for a while and told them I had seen the Martians the previous evening. None of them had seen the Martians, and they had only the vaguest ideas about them, so they questioned me eagerly. They said they did not know who had authorized the troop movements. They thought a dispute had arisen at the Horse Guards. The ordinary sapper was much better educated than the common soldier. These sappers discussed the unusual conditions of a possible fight with some insight. I described the Heat-Ray to them, and they began to argue among themselves.

“Crawl up under cover and rush ’em, say I,” said one.

“Crawl up under cover and rush them, I say,” said one.

“Get aht!” said another. “What’s cover against this ’ere ’eat? Sticks to cook yer! What we got to do is to go as near as the ground’ll let us, and then drive a trench.”

“Get out!” said another. “What good is cover against this heat? It’s just sticks to cook you with! We need to get as close as the ground allows, then dig a trench.”

“Blow yer trenches! You always want trenches; you ought to ha’ been born a rabbit, Snippy.”

“Forget your trenches! You always want trenches. You should have been born a rabbit, Snippy.”

“Ain’t they got any necks, then?” said a third, abruptly—a little, contemplative, dark man, smoking a pipe.

“Don’t they have any necks, then?” a third man asked abruptly. He was a small, thoughtful, dark man smoking a pipe.

I repeated my description.

I repeated my description.

“Octopuses,” said he, “that’s what I calls ’em. Talk about fishers of men—fighters of fish it is this time!”

“Octopuses,” he said, “that’s what I call them. Talk about fishers of men, this time it’s fighters of fish!”

“It ain’t no murder killing beasts like that,” said the first speaker.

“It's not murder to kill beasts like that,” said the first speaker.

“Why not shell the darned things strite off and finish ’em?” said the little dark man. “You carn tell what they might do.”

“Why not shell the darned things right away and finish them off?” said the little dark man. “You can’t tell what they might do.”

“Where’s your shells?” said the first speaker. “There ain’t no time. Do it in a rush, that’s my tip, and do it at once.”

“Where are your shells?” said the first speaker. “There’s no time. Do it quickly, that’s my advice, and do it at once.”

So they discussed it. After a while I left them, and went on to the railway station to get as many morning papers as I could.

So they discussed it. After a while, I left them and went to the train station to get as many morning papers as I could.

But I will not weary the reader with a description of that long morning and of the longer afternoon. I did not succeed in getting a glimpse of the common, for even Horsell and Chobham church towers were in the hands of the military authorities. The soldiers I addressed didn’t know anything; the officers were mysterious as well as busy. I found people in the town quite secure again in the presence of the military, and I heard for the first time from Marshall, the tobacconist, that his son was among the dead on the common. The soldiers had made the people on the outskirts of Horsell lock up and leave their houses.

But I will not bore the reader with an account of that long morning and the even longer afternoon. I could not get a glimpse of the common. Even the church towers in Horsell and Chobham were under military control. The soldiers I spoke to knew nothing. The officers were secretive and busy. I found that people in town felt safe again with the military there. Marshall, the tobacconist, told me for the first time that his son was among the dead on the common. The soldiers had made people on the outskirts of Horsell lock up and leave their houses.

I got back to lunch about two, very tired for, as I have said, the day was extremely hot and dull; and in order to refresh myself I took a cold bath in the afternoon. About half past four I went up to the railway station to get an evening paper, for the morning papers had contained only a very inaccurate description of the killing of Stent, Henderson, Ogilvy, and the others. But there was little I didn’t know. The Martians did not show an inch of themselves. They seemed busy in their pit, and there was a sound of hammering and an almost continuous streamer of smoke. Apparently they were busy getting ready for a struggle. “Fresh attempts have been made to signal, but without success,” was the stereotyped formula of the papers. A sapper told me it was done by a man in a ditch with a flag on a long pole. The Martians took as much notice of such advances as we should of the lowing of a cow.

I got back for lunch around two, feeling very tired. As I said, the day was extremely hot and dull. To refresh myself, I took a cold bath that afternoon. Around half past four, I went up to the railway station to get an evening paper. The morning papers had given a very inaccurate account of the killing of Stent, Henderson, Ogilvy, and the others. But the evening paper had little I didn’t already know. The Martians did not show themselves at all. They seemed busy in their pit. There was a sound of hammering and an almost continuous stream of smoke. Apparently, they were busy preparing for a struggle. “Fresh attempts have been made to signal, but without success,” was the standard phrase in the papers. A sapper told me that a man in a ditch had tried signaling with a flag on a long pole. The Martians paid as much attention to these attempts as we would to the lowing of a cow.

I must confess the sight of all this armament, all this preparation, greatly excited me. My imagination became belligerent, and defeated the invaders in a dozen striking ways; something of my schoolboy dreams of battle and heroism came back. It hardly seemed a fair fight to me at that time. They seemed very helpless in that pit of theirs.

I must admit, seeing all these weapons and preparations excited me greatly. My imagination turned to battle, and I defeated the invaders in a dozen striking ways. Some of my schoolboy dreams of battle and heroism came back. At the time, it hardly seemed like a fair fight. The invaders seemed very helpless in their pit.

About three o’clock there began the thud of a gun at measured intervals from Chertsey or Addlestone. I learned that the smouldering pine wood into which the second cylinder had fallen was being shelled, in the hope of destroying that object before it opened. It was only about five, however, that a field gun reached Chobham for use against the first body of Martians.

Around three o’clock, a gun began firing at regular intervals from Chertsey or Addlestone. I learned that the smoldering pine wood where the second cylinder had fallen was being shelled. The hope was to destroy the cylinder before it opened. But it was not until around five that a field gun reached Chobham for use against the first group of Martians.

About six in the evening, as I sat at tea with my wife in the summerhouse talking vigorously about the battle that was lowering upon us, I heard a muffled detonation from the common, and immediately after a gust of firing. Close on the heels of that came a violent rattling crash, quite close to us, that shook the ground; and, starting out upon the lawn, I saw the tops of the trees about the Oriental College burst into smoky red flame, and the tower of the little church beside it slide down into ruin. The pinnacle of the mosque had vanished, and the roof line of the college itself looked as if a hundred-ton gun had been at work upon it. One of our chimneys cracked as if a shot had hit it, flew, and a piece of it came clattering down the tiles and made a heap of broken red fragments upon the flower bed by my study window.

Around six that evening, I sat having tea with my wife in the summerhouse. We talked intensely about the battle looming over us. I heard a muffled explosion from the common, followed immediately by a burst of gunfire. Then came a violent, rattling crash very close to us, and the ground shook. I rushed out onto the lawn and saw the treetops around the Oriental College burst into smoky red flames. The tower of the little church beside it collapsed into ruins. The pinnacle of the mosque had vanished. The college roofline looked as if a hundred-ton gun had been firing at it. One of our chimneys cracked as if a shot had hit it and burst apart. A piece clattered down the roof tiles, leaving a heap of broken red fragments on the flower bed by my study window.

I and my wife stood amazed. Then I realised that the crest of Maybury Hill must be within range of the Martians’ Heat-Ray now that the college was cleared out of the way.

My wife and I stood there, amazed. Then I realized that the top of Maybury Hill must now be within range of the Martians’ Heat-Ray. The college was no longer in the way.

At that I gripped my wife’s arm, and without ceremony ran her out into the road. Then I fetched out the servant, telling her I would go upstairs myself for the box she was clamouring for.

At that, I grabbed my wife’s arm and hurried her out into the road. Then I brought out the servant. I told her I would go upstairs myself to get the box she was demanding.

“We can’t possibly stay here,” I said; and as I spoke the firing reopened for a moment upon the common.

“We can’t possibly stay here,” I said. As I spoke, the firing on the common started again for a moment.

“But where are we to go?” said my wife in terror.

“But where are we going to go?” my wife asked in terror.

I thought perplexed. Then I remembered her cousins at Leatherhead.

I thought, confused. Then I remembered her cousins in Leatherhead.

“Leatherhead!” I shouted above the sudden noise.

“Leatherhead!” I shouted over the sudden noise.

She looked away from me downhill. The people were coming out of their houses, astonished.

She looked away from me, down the hill. People were coming out of their houses, astonished.

“How are we to get to Leatherhead?” she said.

“How are we going to get to Leatherhead?” she said.

Down the hill I saw a bevy of hussars ride under the railway bridge; three galloped through the open gates of the Oriental College; two others dismounted, and began running from house to house. The sun, shining through the smoke that drove up from the tops of the trees, seemed blood red, and threw an unfamiliar lurid light upon everything.

Down the hill, I saw a group of hussars ride under the railway bridge. Three galloped through the open gates of the Oriental College. Two others got off their horses and began running from house to house. Smoke rose from the treetops, and the sun shone through it, seeming blood red. It cast a strange, ominous light over everything.

“Stop here,” said I; “you are safe here;” and I started off at once for the Spotted Dog, for I knew the landlord had a horse and dog cart. I ran, for I perceived that in a moment everyone upon this side of the hill would be moving. I found him in his bar, quite unaware of what was going on behind his house. A man stood with his back to me, talking to him.

“Stay here,” I said. “You’re safe here.” I set off at once for the Spotted Dog, because I knew the landlord had a horse and a dogcart. I ran because I realized that everyone on this side of the hill would soon be moving. I found the landlord in his bar, completely unaware of what was happening behind his house. A man stood with his back to me, talking to him.

“I must have a pound,” said the landlord, “and I’ve no one to drive it.”

“I need a pound,” said the landlord, “and I have no one to drive it.”

“I’ll give you two,” said I, over the stranger’s shoulder.

“I’ll give you two,” I said over the stranger’s shoulder.

“What for?”

“What for?”

“And I’ll bring it back by midnight,” I said.

“And I’ll bring it back by midnight,” I said.

“Lord!” said the landlord; “what’s the hurry? I’m selling my bit of a pig. Two pounds, and you bring it back? What’s going on now?”

“Good Lord!” said the landlord. “What’s the hurry? I’m selling my little pig. Two pounds, and you bring it back? What’s going on now?”

I explained hastily that I had to leave my home, and so secured the dog cart. At the time it did not seem to me nearly so urgent that the landlord should leave his. I took care to have the cart there and then, drove it off down the road, and, leaving it in charge of my wife and servant, rushed into my house and packed a few valuables, such plate as we had, and so forth. The beech trees below the house were burning while I did this, and the palings up the road glowed red. While I was occupied in this way, one of the dismounted hussars came running up. He was going from house to house, warning people to leave. He was going on as I came out of my front door, lugging my treasures, done up in a tablecloth. I shouted after him:

I hurriedly explained that I had to leave my home, and so I obtained the dogcart. At the time, it seemed much less urgent to me that the landlord should leave his home. I made sure I got the cart immediately and drove it down the road. I left it with my wife and servant, then rushed into my house. I packed a few valuables, including what silver we had. As I did this, the beech trees below the house were burning, and the fence posts up the road glowed red. While I was busy, one of the hussars came running up on foot. He was going from house to house, warning people to leave. He was moving on as I came out of my front door, carrying my treasures wrapped in a tablecloth. I shouted after him:

“What news?”

“What’s the news?”

He turned, stared, bawled something about “crawling out in a thing like a dish cover,” and ran on to the gate of the house at the crest. A sudden whirl of black smoke driving across the road hid him for a moment. I ran to my neighbour’s door and rapped to satisfy myself of what I already knew, that his wife had gone to London with him and had locked up their house. I went in again, according to my promise, to get my servant’s box, lugged it out, clapped it beside her on the tail of the dog cart, and then caught the reins and jumped up into the driver’s seat beside my wife. In another moment we were clear of the smoke and noise, and spanking down the opposite slope of Maybury Hill towards Old Woking.

He turned and stared. He shouted something about “crawling out in a thing like a dish cover,” then ran on to the gate of the house at the top of the hill. A sudden swirl of black smoke swept across the road and hid him for a moment. I ran to my neighbour’s door and knocked to confirm what I already knew. His wife had gone to London with him, and they had locked up their house. As I had promised, I went back inside to get my servant’s box. I dragged it out and put it beside her at the back of the dog cart. Then I took the reins and jumped into the driver’s seat beside my wife. A moment later, we were clear of the smoke and noise, racing down the other side of Maybury Hill towards Old Woking.

In front was a quiet sunny landscape, a wheat field ahead on either side of the road, and the Maybury Inn with its swinging sign. I saw the doctor’s cart ahead of me. At the bottom of the hill I turned my head to look at the hillside I was leaving. Thick streamers of black smoke shot with threads of red fire were driving up into the still air, and throwing dark shadows upon the green treetops eastward. The smoke already extended far away to the east and west—to the Byfleet pine woods eastward, and to Woking on the west. The road was dotted with people running towards us. And very faint now, but very distinct through the hot, quiet air, one heard the whirr of a machine-gun that was presently stilled, and an intermittent cracking of rifles. Apparently the Martians were setting fire to everything within range of their Heat-Ray.

Ahead was a quiet, sunny landscape. Wheat fields lay on either side of the road, and the Maybury Inn stood there with its swinging sign. I saw the doctor’s cart ahead of me. At the bottom of the hill, I turned to look back at the hillside I was leaving. Thick streams of black smoke, streaked with red flames, rose into the still air. They cast dark shadows on the green treetops to the east. The smoke already stretched far to the east and west, from the Byfleet pine woods to Woking. People were scattered along the road, running toward us. Through the hot, quiet air, I could hear the whir of a machine gun, faint but very clear. It soon fell silent, while rifles cracked at intervals. Apparently, the Martians were setting fire to everything within range of their Heat-Ray.

I am not an expert driver, and I had immediately to turn my attention to the horse. When I looked back again the second hill had hidden the black smoke. I slashed the horse with the whip, and gave him a loose rein until Woking and Send lay between us and that quivering tumult. I overtook and passed the doctor between Woking and Send.

I was not an expert driver, so I had to turn my attention to the horse immediately. When I looked back again, the second hill had hidden the black smoke. I whipped the horse and let him have the reins until Woking and Send lay between us and the trembling turmoil. I caught up with the doctor and passed him between Woking and Send.