THE MASSACRE AT EASTBOURNE.
Hourly the most alarming reports were being received at the War Office,
and at newspaper offices throughout the country, of the
rapidly-increasing forces of the invaders, who were still landing in
enormous numbers. Vague rumours were also afloat of desperate encounters
at sea between our Coastguard Squadron that had returned and the French
and Russian ironclads.
Nothing definite, however, was known. News travelled slowly, and was
always unreliable.
Mobilisation was being hurried forward with all possible speed.
Nevertheless, so sudden had been the descent of the enemy, that
Eastbourne, Newhaven, and Seaford had already fallen into their hands.
Into the half-wrecked town of Eastbourne regiment after regiment of
Russian infantry had been poured by the transports _Samojed_ and
_Artelscik_, while two regiments of dragoons, one of Cossacks, and many
machine-gun sections had also been landed, in addition to a quantity of
French infantry from the other vessels. The streets of the usually
clean, well-ordered town were strewn with the debris of fallen houses
and shops that had been wrecked by Russian shells. The Queen's Hotel at
Splash Point, with its tiers of verandahs and central spire, stood out a
great gaunt blackened ruin.
Along Terminus Road the grey-coated hordes of the Great White Tsar
looted the shops, and showed no quarter to those who fell into their
hands. The Grand Hotel, the Burlington, the Cavendish, and others, were
quickly transformed into barracks, as well as the half-ruined Town Hall,
and the Floral Hall at Devonshire Park.
Robbery, outrage, and murder ran riot in the town, which only a few days
before had been a fashionable health resort, crowded by aristocratic
idlers. Hundreds of unoffending persons had been killed by the merciless
fire from the enemy's battleships, and hundreds more were being shot
down in the streets for attempting a feeble resistance. The inhabitants,
surrounded on all sides by the enemy, were powerless.
The huge guns of the _Pamyat Azova_, the _Imperator Nicolai I._, the
_Pjotr Velikij_, the _Krejser_, the _Najezdnik_, and others, had belched
forth their death-dealing missiles with an effect that was appalling.
The thunder of cannon had ceased, but was now succeeded by the sharp
cracking of Russian rifles, as those who, desperately guarding their
homes and their loved ones, and making a stand against the invaders,
were shot down like dogs. A crowd of townspeople collected in the open
space outside the railway station, prepared to bar the advance of the
Russians towards the Old Town and Upperton. Alas! it was a forlorn hope
for an unarmed mob to attempt any such resistance.
A Russian officer suddenly shouted a word of command that brought a
company of infantry to the halt, facing the crowd. Another word and a
hundred rifles were discharged. Again and again they flashed, and the
volley was repeated until the streets were covered with dead and dying,
and the few who were not struck turned and fled, leaving the invaders to
advance unopposed.
Horrible were the deeds committed that night. English homes were
desecrated, ruined, and burned. Babes were murdered before the eyes of
their parents, many being impaled by gleaming Russian bayonets; fathers
were shot down in the presence of their wives and children, and sons
were treated in a similar manner.
[Illustration: LANDING OF RUSSIANS, AND MASSACRE IN TERMINUS ROAD,
EASTBOURNE.]
The massacre was frightful. Ruin and desolation were on every hand.
The soldiers of the Tsar, savage and inhuman, showed no mercy to the
weak and unprotected. They jeered and laughed at piteous appeal, and
with fiendish brutality enjoyed the destruction which everywhere they
wrought.
Many a cold-blooded murder was committed, many a brave Englishman fell
beneath the heavy whirling sabres of Circassian Cossacks, the bayonets
of French infantry, or the deadly hail of machine guns. Battalion after
battalion of the enemy, fierce and ruthless, clambered on over the
debris in Terminus Road, enthusiastic at finding their feet upon English
soil. The flames of the burning buildings in various parts of the town
illuminated the place with a bright red glare that fell upon dark
bearded faces, in every line of which was marked determination and
fierce hostility. Landing near Langney Point, many of the battalions
entered the town from the east, destroying all the property they came
across on their line of advance, and, turning into Terminus Road, then
continued through Upperton and out upon the road leading to Willingdon.
The French forces, who came ashore close to Holywell, on the other side
of the town, advanced direct over Warren Hill, and struck due north
towards Sheep Lands.
At about a mile from the point where the road from Eastdean crosses that
to Jevington, the force encamped in a most advantageous position upon
Willingdon Hill, while the Russians who advanced direct over St.
Anthony's Hill, and those who marched through Eastbourne, united at a
point on the Lewes Road near Park Farm, and after occupying Willingdon
village, took up a position on the high ground that lies between it and
Jevington.
From a strategic point of view the positions of both forces were
carefully chosen. The commanding officers were evidently well acquainted
with the district, for while the French commanded Eastbourne and a wide
stretch of the Downs, the Russians also had before them an extensive
tract of country extending in the north to Polegate, in the west to the
Fore Down and Lillington, and in the east beyond Willingdon over
Pevensey Levels to the sea.
During the night powerful search-lights from the French and Russian
ships swept the coast continually, illuminating the surrounding hills
and lending additional light to the ruined and burning town. Before the
sun rose, however, the majority of the invading vessels had rounded
Beachy Head, and had steamed away at full speed down Channel.
[Illustration: MAP SHOWING THE POINTS WHERE THE INVADERS LANDED.]
Daylight revealed the grim realities of war. It showed Eastbourne with
its handsome buildings scorched and ruined, its streets blocked by
fallen walls, and trees which had once formed shady boulevards torn up
and broken, its shops looted, its tall church steeples blown away, its
railway station wrecked, and its people massacred. Alas! their
life-blood was wet upon the pavements.
The French and Russian legions, ever increasing, covered the hills. The
heavy guns of the French artillery and the lighter but more deadly
machine guns of the Russians had already been placed in position, and
were awaiting the order to move north and commence the assault on
London.
It was too late! Nothing could now be done to improve the rotten state
of our defences. The invasion had begun, and Britain, handicapped alike
on land and on sea, must arm and fight to the death.
By Tuesday night, three days after the Declaration of War, two French
and half a Russian army corps, amounting to 90,000 officers and men,
with 10,000 horses and 1500 guns and waggons, had landed, in addition to
which reinforcements constantly arrived from the French Channel and
Russian Baltic ports, until the number of the enemy on English soil was
estimated at over 300,000.
The overwhelming descent on our shores had been secretly planned by the
enemy with great forethought, every detail having been most carefully
arranged. The steam tonnage in the French harbours was ample and to
spare, for many of the vessels, being British, had been at once seized
on the outbreak of hostilities. The sudden interruption of the mail and
telegraphic services between the two countries left us in total
ignorance of the true state of affairs. Nevertheless, for weeks an army
of carpenters and engineers had been at work preparing the necessary
fittings, which were afterwards placed in position on board the ships
destined to convey horses and men to England.
In order to deceive the other Powers, a large number of military
transport vessels had been fitted out at Brest for a bogus expedition to
Dahomey. These ships actually put to sea on the day previous to the
Declaration of War, and on Saturday night, at the hour when the news
reached Britain, they had already embarked guns, horses, and waggons at
the Channel ports. Immediately after the Tsar's manifesto had been
issued the Russian Volunteer Fleet was mobilised, and transports which
had long been held in readiness in the Baltic harbours embarked men and
guns, and, one after another, steamed away for England without the
slightest confusion or any undue haste.