STATE OF SIEGE DECLARED
The authentic account of a further landing in Essex--somewhere near
Maldon--was now published. The statement had been dictated by Mr. Henry
Alexander, J.P.,--the Mayor of Maldon, who had succeeded in escaping
from the town,--to Captain Wilfred Quare, of the Intelligence Department
of the War Office. This Department had, in turn, given it to the
newspapers for publication.
It read as follows:--
* * * * *
“On Sunday morning, September 2, I had arranged to play a round of golf
with my friend Somers, of Beeleigh, before church. I met him at the Golf
Hut about 8.30. We played one round, and were at the last hole but three
in a second round when we both thought we heard the sound of shots fired
somewhere in the town. We couldn’t make anything at all of it, and as we
had so nearly finished the round, we thought we would do so before going
up to inquire about it. I was making my approach to the final hole when
an exclamation from Somers spoilt my stroke. I felt annoyed, but as I
looked round--doubtless somewhat irritably--my eyes turned in the
direction in which I now saw my friend was pointing with every
expression of astonishment in his countenance.
“‘Who on earth are those fellows?’ he asked. As for me, I was too
dumbfounded to reply. Galloping over the links from the direction of the
town came three men in uniform--soldiers, evidently. I had often been
in Germany, and recognised the squat pickel-haubes and general get-up of
the rapidly approaching horsemen at a glance.
“‘I didn’t know the Yeomanry were out!’ was what my friend said.
“‘Yeomanry be hanged! They’re Germans, or I’m a Dutchman!’ I answered;
‘and what the dickens can they be doing here?’
“They were upon us almost as I spoke, pulling up their horses with a
great spattering up of grass and mud, quite ruining one of our best
greens. All three of them pointed big, ugly repeating pistols at us, and
the leader, a conceited-looking ass in staff uniform, required us to
‘surrender’ in quite a pompous manner, but in very good English.
“‘Do we look so very dangerous, Herr Lieutenant?’ inquired I in German.
“He dropped a little of his frills when he heard me speak in his native
language, asked which of us was the Mayor, and condescended to explain
that I was required in Maldon by the officer at present in command of
His Imperial Majesty the Kaiser’s forces occupying that place.
“I was absolutely staggered.
“When I left my house a couple of hours back I had just as much
expectation of finding the Chinese there on my return as the Germans. I
looked at my captor in complete bewilderment. Could he be some fellow
trying to take a rise out of me by masquerading as a German officer? But
no, I recognised at once that he was the genuine article. Everything
about him, from the badly-cut riding-boots to the sprouting moustache
curled up in feeble imitation of the Emperor’s characteristic adornment,
bore witness to his identity. If anything were wanting, it was supplied
by his aggressive manner.
“I suggested that he might point his pistol some other way. I added that
if he wanted to try his skill as marksman it would be more sporting to
aim at the flag at the Long Hole near Beeleigh Lock.
“He took my banter in good part, but demanded my parole, which I made no
difficulty about giving, since I did not see any way of escape, and in
any case was only too anxious to get back to town to see how things
were.
“‘But you don’t want my friend, do you--he lives out the other way?’ I
queried.
“‘I don’t want him, but he will have to come all the same,’ rejoined the
German. ‘It isn’t likely we’re going to let him get away to give the
alarm in Colchester, is it?’
“Obviously it was not, and without more ado we started off at a sharp
walk, holding on to the stirrup leathers of the horsemen.
“As we entered the town there was, on the bridge over the river, a small
picket of blue-coated German infantry. The whole thing was a perfect
nightmare. It was past belief.
“‘How on earth did you get here?’ I couldn’t help asking. ‘Did you come
down from town in an excursion train or by balloon?’
“My German officer laughed.
“‘By water,’ he answered shortly, pointing down the river as he spoke,
where I was still further astonished--if it were possible after such a
morning--to see several steam pinnaces and boats flying the black and
white German ensign.
“I was conducted straight to the Moot Hall. He already knew his way
about, this German, it seemed. There I found a grizzled veteran waiting
on the steps, who turned round and entered the building as we came up.
We followed him inside, and I was introduced to him. He appeared to be a
truculent old ruffian.
“‘Well, Mr. Mayor,’ he said, pulling viciously at his white moustache,
‘do you know that I’ve a great mind to take you out into the street and
have you shot?’
“I was not at all inclined to be browbeaten.
“‘Indeed, Herr Hauptman?’ I answered. ‘And may I inquire in what way I
have incurred the displeasure of the Hochwohlgeboren officer?’
“‘Don’t trifle with me, sir. Why do you allow your miserable Volunteers
to come out and shoot my men?’
“‘My Volunteers? I am afraid I don’t understand what you mean,’ I said.
‘I’m not a Volunteer officer. Even if I were, I should have no
cognisance of anything that has happened within the last two hours, as I
have been down on the golf course. This officer will bear me out,’ I
added, turning to my captor. He admitted that he had found me there.
“‘But, anyway, you are the Mayor,’ persisted my interrogator. ‘Why did
you allow the Volunteers to come out?’
“‘If you had been good enough to inform us of your visit, we might have
made better arrangements,’ I answered, ‘but in any case you must
understand that a mayor has little or no authority in this country. His
job is to head subscription-lists, eat a dinner or two, and make
speeches on public occasions.’
“He seemed to have some difficulty in swallowing this, but as another
officer who was there, writing at a table, and who, it appears, had
lived at some period in England, corroborated my statement, the choleric
colonel seemed to be a little mollified, and contented himself with
demanding my parole not to leave Maldon until he had reported the matter
to the General for decision. I gave it without more ado, and then asked
if he would be good enough to tell me what had happened. From what he
told me, and what I heard afterwards, it seems that the Germans must
have landed a few of their men about half an hour before I left home,
down near the Marine Lake. They had not entered the town at once, as
their object was to work round outside and occupy all the entrances, to
prevent anyone getting away with the news of their presence. They had
not noticed the little lane leading to the golf course, and so I had
gone down without meeting any of them, although they had actually got a
picket just beyond the railway arch at that time. They had completed
their cordon before there was any general alarm in the town, but at the
first reliable rumour it seems that young Shand, of the Essex
Volunteers, had contrived to get together twenty or thirty of his men in
their uniforms and foolishly opened fire on a German picket down by St.
Mary’s Church. They fell back, but were almost instantly reinforced by a
whole company that had just landed, and our men, rushing forward, had
been ridden into by some cavalry that came up a side street. They were
dispersed, a couple of them were killed and several wounded, among them
poor Shand, who was hit in the right lung. They had bagged four Germans,
however, and their commanding officer was furious. It was a pity that it
happened, as it could not possibly have been of any use. But it seems
that Shand had no idea that it was more than a very small detachment
that had landed from a gunboat that someone said they had seen down the
river. Some of the Volunteers were captured afterwards and sent off as
prisoners, and the Germans posted up a notice that all Volunteers were
forthwith to surrender either themselves or their arms and uniforms,
under pain of death. Most of them did the latter. They could do nothing
after it was found that the Germans had a perfect army somewhere between
Maldon and the sea, and were pouring troops into the town as fast as
they could.
“That very morning a Saxon rifle battalion arrived from the direction of
Mundon, and just afterwards a lot of spike-helmeted gentlemen came in by
train from Wickford way. So it went on all day, until the whole town was
in a perfect uproar. Another rifle battalion, then some sky-blue hussars
and some artillery, then three more battalions of a regiment called the
101st Grenadiers, I believe. The infantry were billeted in the town, but
the cavalry and guns crossed the river and canal at Heybridge, and went
off in the direction of Witham. Later on, another infantry regiment
came in by train and marched out after them.
“Maldon is built on a hill that slopes gradually towards the east and
south, but rises somewhat abruptly on the west and north, humping up a
shoulder, as it were, to the north-west. At this corner they started to
dig entrenchments just after one o’clock, and soon officers and
orderlies were busy all round the town, plotting, measuring, and setting
up marks of one kind and another. Other troops appeared to be busy down
in Heybridge, but what they were doing I could not tell, as no one was
allowed to cross the bridge over the river.
“The German officer who had surprised me down on the golf course did not
turn out to be a bad kind of youth on further acquaintance. He was a
Captain von Hildebrandt, of the Guard Fusilier Regiment, who was
employed on the Staff, though in what capacity he did not say. Thinking
it was just as well to make the best of a bad job, I invited him to
lunch. He said he had to be off. He, however, introduced me to three
friends of his in the 101st Grenadiers, who, he suggested, should be
billeted on me. I thought the idea a fairly good one, and Von
Hildebrandt, having apparently arranged this with the billeting officer
without any difficulty, I took them home with me to lunch.
“I found my wife and family in a great state of mind, both on account of
the untoward happenings of the morning and my non-return from golf at
the expected time. They had imagined all sorts of things which might
have befallen me, but luckily seemed not to have heard of my adventure
with the choleric colonel. Our three foreigners soon made themselves
very much at home, but as they were undeniably gentlemen, they contrived
to be about as agreeable as could be expected under the circumstances.
Indeed, their presence was to a great extent a safeguard against
annoyance, as the stable and back premises were stuffed full of
soldiers, who might have been very troublesome had they not been there
to keep them in order.
“Of what was happening up in London we knew nothing. Being Sunday, all
the shops were shut; but I went out and contrived to lay in a
considerable stock of provisions one way and another, and it was just as
well I did, for I only just anticipated the Germans, who commandeered
everything in the town and put everybody on an allowance of rations.
They paid for them with bills on the British Government, which were by
no means acceptable to the shopkeepers. However, it was ‘Hobson’s
choice’--that or nothing. The Germans soothed them by saying that the
British Army would be smashed in a couple of weeks, and the defrayment
of such bills would be among the conditions of peace. The troops
generally seemed to be well-behaved, and treated those inhabitants with
whom they came in contact in an unexceptionable manner. They did not see
very much of them, however, as they were kept hard at work all day with
their entrenchments and were not allowed out of their billets after
eight o’clock that evening. No one, in fact, was allowed to be about the
streets after that hour. On the other hand, a couple of poor young
fellows in the Volunteers who had concealed their connection with the
force and were trying to slip out of the town with their rifles after
dark, were caught, and the next morning stood up against the
three-cornered tower of All Saints’ Church and shot without mercy. Two
or three other people were shot by the sentries as they tried to break
out in one direction or the other. These affairs produced a feeling of
horror and indignation in the town, as Englishmen, having such a long
experience of peace in their own country, have always refused to realise
what war really means.
“The German fortifications went on at a rapid rate. Trenches were dug
all round the northern and western sides of the town before dark on the
first evening, and the following morning I woke up to find three huge
gun-pits yawning in my garden, which looked to the northward. One was
right in the middle of the lawn--or rather of where the lawn had been,
for all the grass that had not been displaced in the digging had been
cut up in sods to build up the insides of their parapets. During
breakfast there was a great rattling and rumbling in the street without,
and presently three big field howitzers were dragged in and planted in
the pits. There they stood, their ugly snouts pointing skyward in the
midst of the wreck of flowers and fruit.
“Afterwards I went out and found that other guns and howitzers were
being put in position all along the north side of Beeleigh Road, and
round the corner by the Old Barracks. The high tower of the disused
Church of St. Peter’s, now utilised for the safe custody of Dr. Plume’s
library, had been equipped as a lookout and signal station.”
Such was the condition of affairs in the town of Maldon on Monday
morning.
* * * * *
The excitement in London, and indeed all over the country, on Tuesday
night was intense. Scotney’s story of the landing at Weybourne was
eagerly read everywhere.
As the sun sank blood-red into the smoke haze behind Nelson’s Monument
in Trafalgar Square, it was an ominous sign to the panic-stricken crowds
that day and night were now assembled there.
The bronze lions facing the four points of the compass were now mere
mocking emblems of England’s departed greatness. The mobilisation muddle
was known; for, according to the papers, hardly any troops had, as yet,
assembled at their places of concentration. The whole of the East of
England was helplessly in the invader’s hands. From Newcastle had come
terrible reports of the bombardment. Half the city was in flames, the
Elswick works were held by the enemy, and whole streets in Newcastle,
Gateshead, Sunderland, and Tynemouth were still burning fiercely.
The Tynemouth fort had proved of little or no use against the enemy’s
guns. The Germans had, it appeared, used petrol bombs with appalling
results, spreading fire, disaster, and death everywhere. The
inhabitants, compelled to fly with only the clothes they wore, had
scattered all over Northumberland and Durham, while the enemy had seized
a quantity of valuable shipping that had been in the Tyne, hoisted the
German flag, and converted the vessels to their own uses.
Many had already been sent across to Wilhelmshaven, Emden, Bremerhaven,
and other places to act as transports, while the Elswick works--which
surely ought to have been properly protected--supplied the Germans with
quantities of valuable material.
Panic and confusion were everywhere. All over the country the railway
system was utterly disorganised, business everywhere was at a complete
deadlock, for in every town and city all over the kingdom the banks were
closed.
Lombard Street, Lothbury, and other banking centres in the City had all
day on Monday been the scene of absolute panic. There, as well as at
every branch bank all over the metropolis, had occurred a wild rush to
withdraw deposits by people who foresaw disaster. Many, indeed, intended
to fly with their families away from the country.
The price of the necessities of life had risen further, and in the East
End and poorer districts of Southwark the whole population were already
in a state of semi-starvation. But worst of all, the awful truth with
which London was now face to face was that the metropolis was absolutely
defenceless.
Would not some effort be made to repel the invaders? Surely if we had
lost our command of the sea the War Office could, by some means,
assemble sufficient men to at least protect London? This was the cry of
the wild, turbulent crowd surging through the City and West End, as the
blood-red sun sank into the west, flooding London in its warm
afterglow--a light in the sky that was prophetic of red ruin and of
death to those wildly excited millions.
+--------------------------------------------------+
| |
| [Illustration] |
| |
| =NOTICE.= |
| |
| =TO ALL GERMAN SUBJECTS RESIDENT |
| IN ENGLAND.= |
| |
| |
| WILHELM. |
| |
| To all OUR LOYAL SUBJECTS, |
| GREETING. |
| |
| We hereby COMMAND and enjoin that all |
| persons born within the German Empire, or |
| being German subjects, whether liable to |
| military service or not, shall join our arms at |
| any headquarters of either of our Army Corps |
| in England within 24 hours of the date of this |
| proclamation. |
| |
| Any German subject failing to obey this our |
| Command will be treated as an enemy. |
| |
| By the EMPEROR’S Command. |
| |
| Given at Beccles, Sept. 3rd, 1910. |
| |
| =VON KRONHELM,= |
| Commanding the Imperial German Army in England. |
+--------------------------------------------------+
FACSIMILE OF A PROCLAMATION POSTED BY UNKNOWN
HANDS ALL OVER THE COUNTRY.
Every hour the papers were appearing with fresh details of the invasion,
for reports were so rapidly coming in from every hand that the Press had
difficulty in dealing with them.
Hull and Goole were known to be in the hands of the invaders, and
Grimsby, where the Mayor had been unable to pay the indemnity demanded,
had been sacked. But details were not yet forthcoming.
Londoners, however, learnt late that night more authentic news from the
invaded zone, of which Beccles was the centre, and it was to the effect
that those who had landed at Lowestoft were the IXth German Army Corps,
with General von Kronhelm, the Generalissimo of the German Army. This
Army Corps, consisting of about 40,000 men, was divided into the 17th
Division, commanded by Lieutenant-General Hocker, and the 18th by
Lieutenant-General von Rauch. The cavalry was under the command of
Major-General von Heyden, and the motor infantry under Colonel
Reichardt.
According to official information which had reached the War Office and
been given to the Press, the 17th Division was made up of the Bremen and
Hamburg Infantry Regiments, the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg’s Grenadiers,
the Grand Duke’s Fusiliers, the Lübeck Regiment No. 162, the
Schleswig-Holstein Regiment No. 163, while the cavalry brigade consisted
of the 17th and 18th Grand Duke of Mecklenburg’s Dragoons.
The 18th Division consisted of the Schleswig Regiment No. 84, and the
Schleswig Fusiliers No. 86, the Thuringen Regiment, and the Duke of
Holstein’s Regiment, the two latter regiments being billeted in
Lowestoft, while the cavalry brigade forming the screen across from
Leiston by Wilby to Castle Hill were Queen Wilhelmina’s Hanover Hussars
and the Emperor of Austria’s Schleswig-Holstein Hussars No. 16. These,
with the smart motor infantry, held every communication in the direction
of London.
As far as could be gathered, the German commander had established his
headquarters in Beccles, and had not moved. It now became apparent that
the telegraph cables between the East Coast and Holland and Germany,
already described in the first chapter, had never been cut at all. They
had simply been held by the enemy’s advance agents until the landing had
been effected. And now Von Kronhelm had actually established direct
communication between Beccles and Emden, and on to Berlin.
Reports from the North Sea spoke of the enemy’s transports returning to
the German coast, escorted by cruisers; therefore the plan was
undoubtedly not to move until a very much larger force had been landed.
Could England regain her command of the sea in time to prevent the
completion of the blow?
The _Eastminster Gazette_, and similar papers of the Blue Water School,
assured the public that there was but very little danger. Germany had
made a false move, and would, in the course of a few days, be made to
pay very dearly for it.
But the British public viewed the situation for itself. It was tired of
these self-satisfied reassurances, and threw the blame upon the
political party who had so often said that armed hostilities had been
abolished in the twentieth century. Recollecting the Czar’s proposals
for universal peace, and the Russo-Japanese sequel, they had no further
faith in the pro-German party or in its organs. It was they, cried the
orators in the streets, that had prevented the critics having a hearing;
they who were culpably responsible for the inefficient state of our
defences; they who had ridiculed clever men, the soldiers, sailors, and
writers who had dared to tell the plain, honest, but unpalatable truth.
We were at war, and if we were not careful the war would spell ruin for
our dear old England.
That night the London streets presented a scene of panic indescribable.
The theatres opened, but closed their doors again, as nobody would see
plays while in that excited state. Every shop was closed, and every
railway station was filled to overflowing with the exodus of terrified
people fleeing to the country westward, or reserves on their way to join
the colours.
The incredulous manner in which the country first received the news had
now been succeeded by wild terror and despair. On that bright Sunday
afternoon they laughed at the report as a mere journalistic sensation,
but ere the sun set the hard, terrible truth was forced upon them, and
now, on Tuesday night, the whole country, from Brighton to Carlisle,
from Yarmouth to Aberystwyth, was utterly disorganised and in a state of
terrified anxiety.
The Eastern counties were already beneath the iron heel of the invader,
whose objective was the world’s great capital--London.
Would they reach it? That was the serious question upon everyone’s
tongue that fevered, breathless night.