shattered to a thousand splinters as, time after time, a great
projectile hissed in the air and effected its errand of destruction. A
number of the wharves on each side of the river were soon alight, and
both Upper and Lower Thames Streets were soon impassable on account of
huge conflagrations. A few shells fell in Shoreditch, Houndsditch, and
Whitechapel, and these, in most cases, caused loss of life in those
densely populated districts.
Westward, however, as the hours went on, the howitzers at Hampstead
began to drop high explosive shells into the Strand, around Charing
Cross, and in Westminster. This weapon had a calibre of 4·14 inches, and
threw a projectile of 35 lb. The tower of St. Clement Dane’s Church
crashed to the ground and blocked the roadway opposite Milford Lane; the
pointed roof of the clock-tower of the Law Courts was blown away, and
the granite fronts of the two banks opposite the Law Courts entrance
were torn out by a shell which exploded in the footpath before them.
Shells fell, time after time, in and about the Law Courts themselves,
committing immense damage to the interior, while a shell bursting upon
the roof of Charing Cross Station, rendered it a ruin as picturesque as
it had been in December 1905. The National Liberal Club was burning
furiously; the Hotel Cecil and the Savoy did not escape, but no material
damage was done them. The Garrick Theatre had caught fire, a shot
carried away the globe above the Coliseum, and the Shot Tower beside the
Thames crashed into the river.
The front of the Grand Hotel in Trafalgar Square showed, in several
places, great holes where the shell had struck, and a shell bursting
at the foot of Nelson’s monument turned over one of the
lions--overthrowing the emblem of Britain’s might!
The clubs in Pall Mall were, in one or two instances, wrecked, notably
the Reform, the Junior Carlton, and the Athenæum, into each of which
shells fell through the roof and exploded within.
From the number of projectiles that fell in the vicinity of the Houses
of Parliament it was apparent that the German gunners could see the
Royal Standard flying from the Victoria Tower, and were making it their
mark. In the west front of Westminster Abbey several shots crashed,
doing enormous damage to the grand old pile. The hospital opposite was
set alight, while the Westminster Palace Hotel was severely damaged, and
two shells falling into St. Thomas’s Hospital created a scene of
indescribable terror in one of the overcrowded casualty wards.
Suddenly one of the German high explosive shells burst on the top of the
Victoria Tower, blowing away all four of the pinnacles, and bringing
down the flagstaff. Big Ben served as another mark for the artillery at
Muswell Hill, for several shots struck it, tearing out one of the huge
clock faces and blowing away the pointed apex of the tower. Suddenly,
however, two great shells struck it right in the centre, almost
simultaneously, near the base, and made such a hole in the huge pile of
masonry that it was soon seen to have been rendered unsafe, though it
did not fall.
Shot after shot struck other portions of the Houses of Parliament,
breaking the windows and carrying away pinnacles.
One of the twin towers of Westminster Abbey fell a few moments later,
and another shell, crashing into the choir, completely wrecked Edward
the Confessor’s shrine, the Coronation chair, and all the objects of
antiquity in the vicinity.
The old Horse Guards escaped injury, but one of the cupolas of the new
War Office opposite was blown away, while shortly afterwards a fire
broke out in the new Local Government Board and Education Offices.
Number 10 Downing Street, the chief centre of the Government, had its
windows all blown in--a grim accident, no doubt--the same explosion
shattering several windows in the Foreign Office.
Many shells fell in St. James’s and Hyde Parks, exploding harmlessly,
but others, passing across St. James’s Park, crashed into that high
building, Queen Anne’s Mansions, causing fearful havoc. Somerset House,
Covent Garden Market, Drury Lane Theatre, and the Gaiety Theatre and
Restaurant all suffered more or less, and two of the bronze footguards
guarding the Wellington Statue at Hyde Park Corner were blown many yards
away. Around Holborn Circus immense damage was being caused, and several
shells bursting on the Viaduct itself blew great holes in the bridge.
So widespread, indeed, was the havoc, that it is impossible to give a
detailed account of the day’s terrors. If the public buildings suffered,
the damage to property of householders and the ruthless wrecking of
quiet English homes may well be imagined. The people had been driven out
from the zone of fire, and had left their possessions to the mercy of
the invaders.
South of the Thames very little damage was done. The German howitzers
and long-range guns could not reach so far. One or two shots fell in
York Road, Lambeth, and in the Waterloo and Westminster Bridge Roads,
but they did little damage beyond the breaking of all the windows in the
vicinity.
When would it end? Where would it end?
Half the population of London had fled across the bridges, and from
Denmark Hill, Champion Hill, Norwood, and the Crystal Palace they could
see the smoke issuing from the hundred fires.
London was cowed. Those northern barricades, still held by bodies of
valiant men, were making a last desperate stand, though the streets ran
with blood. Every man fought well and bravely for his country, though he
went to his death. A thousand acts of gallant heroism on the part of
Englishmen were done that day, but, alas! all to no purpose. The Germans
were at our gates, and were not to be denied.
As daylight commenced to fade the dust and smoke became suffocating. And
yet the guns pounded away with a monotonous regularity that appalled the
helpless populace. Overhead there was a quick whizzing in the air, a
deafening explosion, and as masonry came crashing down the atmosphere
was filled with poisonous fumes that half asphyxiated all those in the
vicinity.
Hitherto the enemy had treated us, on the whole, humanely, but finding
that desperate resistance in the northern suburbs, Von Kronhelm was
carrying out the Emperor’s parting injunction. He was breaking the pride
of our own dear London, even at the sacrifice of thousands of innocent
lives.
The scenes in the streets within that zone of awful fire baffled
description. They were too sudden, too dramatic, too appalling. Death
and destruction were everywhere, and the people of London now realised
for the first time what the horrors of war really meant.
Dusk was falling. Above the pall of smoke from the burning buildings the
sun was setting with a blood-red light. From the London streets,
however, this evening sky was darkened by the clouds of smoke and dust.
Yet the cannonade continued, each shell that came hurtling through the
air exploding with deadly effect and spreading destruction on all hands.
Meanwhile the barricades at the north had not escaped Von Kronhelm’s
attention. About four o’clock he gave orders by field telegraph for
certain batteries to move down and attack them.
This was done soon after five o’clock, and when the German guns began to
pour their deadly rain of shell into those hastily improvised defences
there commenced a slaughter of the gallant defenders that was horrible.
At each of the barricades shell after shell was directed, and very
quickly breaches were made. Then upon the defenders themselves the fire
was directed--a withering, awful fire from quick-firing guns which none
could withstand. The streets, with their barricades swept away, were
strewn with mutilated corpses. Hundreds upon hundreds had attempted to
make a last stand, rallied by the Union Jack they waved above, but a
shell exploding in their midst had sent them to instant eternity.
Many a gallant deed was done that day by patriotic Londoners in defence
of their homes and loved ones--many a deed that should have earned the
V.C.--but in nearly all cases the patriot who had stood up and faced the
foe had gone to straight and certain death.
Till seven o’clock the dull roar of the guns in the north continued, and
people across the Thames knew that London was still being destroyed, nay
pulverised. Then with one accord came a silence--the first silence since
the hot noon.
Von Kronhelm’s field telegraph at Jack Straw’s Castle had ticked the
order to cease firing.
All the barricades had been broken.
London lay burning--at the mercy of the German eagle.
And as the darkness fell the German Commander-in-Chief looked again
through his glasses, and saw the red flames leaping up in dozens of
places, where whole blocks of shops and buildings, public institutions,
whole streets in some cases, were being consumed.
London--the proud capital of the world, the “home” of the
Englishman--was at last ground beneath the iron heel of Germany!
And all, alas! due to one cause alone--the careless insular apathy of
the Englishman himself!
CHAPTER VI
FALL OF LONDON
Outside London the September night had settled down on the blood-stained
field of battle. With a pale light the moon had risen, partly hidden by
chasing clouds, her white rays mingling with the lurid glare of the
fires down in the great terrified metropolis below. Northward, from
Hampstead across to Barnet--indeed, over that wide district where the
final battle had been so hotly fought--the moonbeams shone upon the
pallid faces of the fallen.
Along the German line of investment there had now followed upon the roar
of battle an uncanny silence.
Away to the west, however, there was still heard the growling of distant
conflict, now mounting into a low crackling of musketry fire, and again
dying away in muffled sounds. The last remnant of the British Army was
being hotly pursued in the direction of Staines.
London was invested and bombarded, but not yet taken.
For a long time the German Field-Marshal had stood alone upon Hampstead
Heath apart from his staff, watching the great tongues of flame leaping
up here and there in the distant darkness. His grey, shaggy brows were
contracted, his thin aquiline face thoughtful, his hard mouth twitching
nervously, unable to fully conceal the strain of his own feelings as
conqueror of the English. Von Kronhelm’s taciturnity had long ago been
proverbial. The Kaiser had likened him to Moltke, and declared that “he
could be silent in seven languages.” His gaze was one of musing, and yet
he was the most active of men, and perhaps the cleverest strategist in
all Europe. Often during the campaign he had astonished his
aides-de-camp by his untiring energy, for sometimes he would even visit
the outposts in person. On many occasions he had actually crept up to
the most advanced posts at great personal risk to himself, so anxious
had he been to see with his own eyes. Such visits from the Field-Marshal
himself were not always exactly welcome to the German outposts, who, as
soon as they showed the least sign of commotion consequent upon the
visit, were at once swept by a withering English fire.
Yet he now stood there--the conqueror. And while many of his officers
were installing themselves in comfortable quarters in houses about North
End, North Hill, South Hill, Muswell Hill, Roslyn Hill, Fitzjohn’s
Avenue, Netherhall, and Maresfield Gardens, and other roads in that
vicinity, the great Commander was still alone upon the Heath, having
taken nothing save a nip from his flask since his coffee at dawn.
Time after time telegraphic despatches were handed to him from Germany,
and telephonic reports from his various positions around London, but he
received them all without comment. He read, he listened, but he said
nothing.
For a full hour he remained there, strolling up and down alone in quick
impatience. Then, as though suddenly making up his mind, he called three
members of his staff, and gave orders for the entry into London.
This, as he knew, was the signal for a terrible and bloody encounter.
Bugles sounded. Men and officers, who had believed that the storm and
stress of the day were over, and that they were entitled to rest, found
themselves called upon to fight their way into the city that they knew
would be defended by an irate and antagonistic populace.
Still, the order had been given, and it must be obeyed. They had
expected that the advance would be at least made at dawn, but evidently
Von Kronhelm feared that six hours’ delay might necessitate more
desperate fighting. He intended, now that London was cowed, that she
should be entirely crushed. The orders of his master the Kaiser were to
that effect.
Therefore, shortly before nine o’clock the first detachments of German
Infantry marched along Spaniards Road, and down Roslyn Hill to
Haverstock Hill, where they were at once fired upon from behind the
débris of the great barricade across the junction of Prince of Wales
Road and Haverstock Hill. This place was held strongly by British
Infantry, many members of the Legion of Frontiersmen,--distinguished
only by the little bronze badge in their buttonholes,--and also by
hundreds of citizens armed with rifles.
Twenty Germans dropped at the first volley, and next instant a Maxim,
concealed in the first floor of a neighbouring house, spat forth its
fire upon the invaders with deadly effect. The German bugle sounded the
“Advance rapidly,” and the men emulously ran forward, shouting loud
hurrahs. Major von Wittich, who had distinguished himself very
conspicuously in the fighting around Enfield Chase, fell, being shot
through the lung when just within a few yards of the half-ruined
barricade. Londoners were fighting desperately, shouting and cheering.
The standard-bearer of the 4th Battalion of the Brunswick Infantry
Regiment, No. 92, fell severely wounded, and the standard was instantly
snatched from him in the awful hand-to-hand fighting which that moment
ensued.
Five minutes later the streets were running with blood, for hundreds,
both Germans and British, lay dead and dying. Every Londoner struggled
valiantly until shot down; yet the enemy, already reinforced, pressed
forward, until ten minutes later the defenders were driven out of their
position, and the house from which the Maxim was sending forth its
deadly hail had been entered and the gun captured. Volley after volley
was still, however, poured out on the heads of the storming party, but
already the pioneers were at work clearing a way for the advance, and
very soon the Germans had surmounted the obstruction and were within
London.
For a short time the Germans halted, then, at a signal from their
officers, they moved forward along both roads, again being fired upon
from every house in the vicinity, many of the defenders having retired
to continue their defence from the windows. The enemy therefore turned
their attention to these houses, and after desperate struggles house
after house was taken, those of the defenders not wearing uniform being
shot down without mercy. To such no quarter was given.
The contest now became a most furious one. Britons and Germans fought
hand to hand. A battalion of the Brunswick Infantry with some riflemen
of the Guard took several houses by rush in Chalk Farm Road; but in many
cases the Germans were shot by their own comrades. Quite a number of the
enemy’s officers were picked off by the Frontiersmen, those brave
fellows who had seen service in every corner of the world, and who were
now in windows and upon roofs. Thus the furious fight from house to
house proceeded.
This exciting conflict was practically characteristic of what was at
that moment happening in fifty other spots along the suburbs of North
London. The obstinate resistance which we made against the Germans was
met with equally obstinate aggression. There was no surrender. Londoners
fell and died fighting to the very last.
Against those well-trained Teutons in such overwhelming masses we,
however, could have no hope of success. The rushes of the infantry and
rifles of the Guards were made skilfully, and slowly but surely broke
down all opposition.
The barricade in the Kentish Town Road was defended with valiant
heroism. The Germans were, as in Chalk Farm Road, compelled to fight
their way foot by foot, losing heavily all the time. But here, at
length, as at other points, the barricade was taken, and the defenders
chased, and either taken prisoner or else ruthlessly shot down. A body
of citizens armed with rifles were, after the storming of the barricades
in question, driven back into Park Street, and there, being caught
between two bodies of Germans, slaughtered to a man. Through those unlit
side-streets between the Kentish Town and Camden Roads--namely, the
Lawford, Bartholomew, Rochester, Caversham, and Leighton Roads, there
was much skirmishing, and many on both sides fell in the bloody
encounter. A thousand deeds of bravery were done that night, but were
unrecorded. Before the barricade in the Holloway Road--which had been
strongly repaired after the breach made in it by the German shells--the
enemy lost very heavily, for the three Maxims which had there been
mounted did awful execution. The invaders, however, seeing the strong
defence, fell back for full twenty minutes, and then, making another
rush, hurled petrol bombs into the midst of our men.
A frightful holocaust was the result. Fully a hundred of the poor
fellows were literally burned alive; while the neighbouring houses being
set in flames, compelled the citizen free-shooters to quickly evacuate
their position. Against such terrible missiles even the best-trained
troops cannot stand, therefore no wonder that all opposition at that
point was soon afterwards swept away, and the pioneers quickly opened
the road for the victorious legions of the Kaiser.
And so in that prosaic thoroughfare, the Holloway Road, brave men fought
gallantly and died, while a Scotch piper paced the pavement sharply,
backwards and forwards, with his colours flying. Then, alas! came the
red flash, the loud explosions in rapid succession, and next instant the
whole street burst into a veritable sea of flame.
High Street, Kingsland, was also the scene of several fierce conflicts;
but here the Germans decidedly got the worst of it. The whole infuriated
population seemed to emerge suddenly from the side streets of the
Kingsland Road on the appearance of the detachment of the enemy, and the
latter were practically overwhelmed, notwithstanding the desperate fight
they made. Then ringing cheers went up from the defenders.
The Germans were given no quarter by the populace, all of whom were
armed with knives or guns, the women mostly with hatchets, crowbars, or
edged tools.
Many of the Germans fled through the side streets towards Mare Street,
and were hotly pursued, the majority of them being done to death by the
maddened mob. The streets in this vicinity were literally a
slaughter-house.
The barricades in Finchley Road and in High Road, Kilburn were also very
strongly held, and at the first named it was quite an hour before the
enemy’s pioneers were able to make a breach. Indeed, then only after a
most hotly contested conflict, in which there were frightful losses on
both sides. Petrol bombs were here also used by the enemy with appalling
effect, the road being afterwards cleared by a couple of Maxims.
Farther towards Regent’s Park the houses were, however, full of
sharpshooters, and before these could be dislodged the enemy had again
suffered severely. The entry into London was both difficult and
perilous, and the enemy suffered great losses everywhere.
After the breaking down of the defences in High Road, Kilburn, the men
who had held them retired to the Town Hall, opposite Kilburn Station,
and from the windows fired at the passing battalions, doing much
execution. All efforts to dislodge them proved unavailing, until the
place was taken by storm, and a fearful hand-to-hand fight was the
outcome. Eventually the Town Hall was taken, after a most desperate
resistance, and ten minutes later wilfully set fire to and burned.
In the Harrow Road and those cross streets between Kensal Green and
Maida Vale the advancing Germans shared much the same fate as about
Hackney. Surrounded by the armed populace, hundreds upon hundreds of
them were killed, struck down by hatchets, stabbed by knives, or shot
with revolvers, the crowd shouting, “Down with the Germans! Kill them!
Kill them!”
Many of the London women now became perfect furies. So incensed were
they at the wreck of their homes and the death of their loved ones that
they rushed wildly into the fray with no thought of peril, only of
bitter revenge. A German, whenever caught, was at once killed. In those
bloody street fights the Teutons got separated from their comrades and
were quickly surrounded and done to death.
Across the whole of the northern suburbs the scenes of bloodshed that
night were full of horror, as men fought in the ruined streets, climbing
over the smouldering débris, over the bodies of their comrades, and
shooting from behind ruined walls. As Von Kronhelm had anticipated, his
Army was compelled to fight its way into London.
The streets all along the line of the enemy’s advance were now strewn
with dead and dying. London was doomed.
The Germans now coming on in increasing, nay, unceasing, numbers, were
leaving behind them everywhere the trail of blood. Shattered London
stood staggered.
Though the resistance had been long and desperate, the enemy had again
triumphed by reason of his sheer weight of numbers.
Yet even though he were actually in our own dear London, our people did
not mean that he should establish himself without any further
opposition. Therefore, though the barricades had been taken, the Germans
found in every unexpected corner men who shot at them, and Maxims which
spat forth their leaden showers beneath which hundreds upon hundreds of
Teutons fell.
Yet they advanced, still fighting. The scenes of carnage were awful and
indescribable, no quarter being given to any armed citizens not in
uniform, be they men, women, or children.
The German Army was carrying out the famous proclamation of
Field-Marshal von Kronhelm to the very letter!
They were marching on to the sack of the wealthiest city of the world.
It wanted still an hour of midnight, London was a city of shadow, of
fire, of death. The silent streets, whence all the inhabitants had fled
in panic, echoed to the heavy tread of German infantry, the clank of
arms, and the ominous rumble of guns. Ever and anon an order was shouted
in German as the Kaiser’s legions went forward to occupy the proud
capital of the world. The enemy’s plans appeared to have been carefully
prepared. The majority of the troops coming from the direction of
Hampstead and Finchley entered Regent’s Park, whence preparations were
at once commenced for encampment; while the remainder, together with
those who came down the Camden, Caledonian, and Holloway Roads turned
along Euston Road and Oxford Street to Hyde Park, where a huge camp was
formed, stretching from the Marble Arch right along the Park Lane side
away to Knightsbridge.
Officers were very soon billeted in the best houses in Park Lane and
about Mayfair,--houses full of works of art and other valuables that had
only that morning been left to the mercy of the invaders. From the
windows and balconies of their quarters in Park Lane they could overlook
the encampment--a position which had evidently been purposely chosen.
Other troops who came in never-ending procession by Bow Road, Roman
Road, East India Dock Road, Victoria Park Road, Mare Street, and
Kingsland Road all converged into the City itself, except those who had
come from Edmonton down the Kingsland Road, and who, passing along Old
Street and Clerkenwell, occupied the Charing Cross and Westminster
districts.
At midnight a dramatic scene was enacted when, in the blood-red glare
of some blazing buildings in the vicinity, a large body of Prince Louis
Ferdinand of Prussia’s 2nd Magdeburg Regiment suddenly swept up
Threadneedle Street into the great open space before the Mansion House,
whereon the London flag was still flying aloft in the smoke-laden air.
They halted across the junction of Cheapside with Queen Victoria Street
when, at the same moment, another huge body of the Uhlans of Altmark and
Magdeburg Hussars came clattering along Cornhill, followed a moment
later by battalion after battalion of the 4th and 8th Thuringen Infantry
out of Moorgate Street, whose uniforms showed plain traces of the
desperate encounters of the past week.
[Illustration: LONDON after the BOMBARDMENT.]
The great body of Germans had halted before the Mansion House, when
General von Kleppen, the commander of the IVth Army Corps--who,
it will be remembered, had landed at Weybourne--accompanied by
Lieutenant-General von Mirbach of the 8th Division, and Frölich,
commander of the cavalry brigade, ascended the steps of the Mansion
House and entered.
Within, Sir Claude Harrison, the Lord Mayor, who wore his robes and
jewel of office, received them in that great, sombre room wherein so
many momentous questions concerning the welfare of the British Empire
had been discussed. The representative of the City of London, a short,
stout, grey-haired man, was pale and agitated. He bowed, but he could
not speak.
Von Kleppen, however, a smart, soldierly figure in his service uniform
and many ribbons, bowed in response, and in very fair English said:
“I regret, my Lord Mayor, that it is necessary for us to thus disturb
you, but as you are aware, the British Army have been defeated, and the
German Army has entered London. I have orders from Field-Marshal von
Kronhelm to place you under arrest, and to hold you as hostage for the
good behaviour of the City during the progress of the negotiations for
peace.”
“Arrest!” gasped the Lord Mayor. “You intend to arrest me?”
“It will not be irksome, I assure you,” smiled the German commander
grimly. “At least, we shall make it as comfortable as possible. I shall
place a guard here, and the only restriction I place upon you is that
you shall neither go out nor hold any communication with anyone outside
these walls.”
“But my wife?”
“If her ladyship is here I would advise that she leave the place. It is
better that, for the present, she should be out of London.”
The civic officials, who had all assembled for the dramatic ceremonial,
looked at each other in blank amazement.
The Lord Mayor was a prisoner!
Sir Claude divested himself of his jewel of office, and handed it to his
servant to replace in safe keeping. Then he took off his robe, and
having done so, advanced closer to the German officers, who, treating
him with every courtesy, consulted with him, expressing regret at the
terrible loss of life that had been occasioned by the gallant defence of
the barricades.
Von Kleppen gave the Lord Mayor a message from Von Kronhelm, and urged
him to issue a proclamation forbidding any further opposition on the
part of the populace of London. With the three officers Sir Claude
talked for a quarter of an hour, while into the Mansion House there
entered a strong guard of men of the 2nd Magdeburg, who quickly
established themselves in the most comfortable quarters. German double
sentries stood at every exit and in every corridor, and when a few
minutes later the flag was hauled down and the German Imperial Standard
run up, wild shouts of triumph rang from every throat of the densely
packed body of troops assembled outside.
The joyous “hurrahs!” reached the Lord Mayor, still in conversation with
Von Kleppen, Von Mirbach, and Frölich, and in an instant he knew the
truth. The Teutons were saluting their own standard. The civic flag had,
either accidentally or purposely, been flung down into the roadway
below, and was trampled in the dust. A hundred enthusiastic Germans,
disregarding the shouts of their officers, fought for the flag, and it
was instantly torn to shreds, and little pieces preserved as souvenirs.
Shout after shout in German went up from the wildly excited troops of
the Kaiser when the light wind caused their own flag to flutter out, and
then as with one voice the whole body of troops united in singing the
German National Hymn.
The scene was weird and most impressive. London had fallen.
Around were the wrecked buildings, some still smouldering, some emitting
flame. Behind lay the Bank of England with untold wealth locked within;
to the right, the damaged façade of the Royal Exchange was illuminated
by the flickering light, which also shone upon the piled arms of the
enemy’s troops, causing them to flash and gleam.
In those silent, narrow City streets not an Englishman was to be seen.
Everyone save the Lord Mayor and his official attendants had fled.
The Government offices in Whitehall were all in the hands of the enemy.
In the Foreign Office, the India Office, the War Office, the Colonial
Office, the Admiralty and other minor offices were German guards.
Sentries stood at the shattered door of the famous No. 10 Downing
Street, and all up Whitehall was lined with infantry.
German officers were in charge of all our public offices, and all
officials who had remained on duty were firmly requested to leave.
Sentries were stationed to guard the archives of every department, and
precautions were taken to guard against any further outbreaks of fire.
Across at the Houses of Parliament, with their damaged towers, the whole
great pile of buildings was surrounded by triumphant troops, while
across at the fine old Abbey of Westminster was, alas! a different
scene. The interior had been turned into a temporary hospital, and upon
matresses placed upon the floor were hundreds of poor maimed creatures,
some groaning, some ghastly pale in the last moments of agony, some
silent, their white lips moving in prayer.
On one side in the dim light lay the men, some in uniform, others
inoffensive citizens, who had been struck by cruel shells or falling
débris; on the other side lay the women, some mere girls, and even
children.
Flitting everywhere in the half light were nurses, charitable ladies,
and female helpers, with numbers of doctors, all doing their best to
alleviate the terrible sufferings of that crowded place, the walls of
which showed plain traces of the severe bombardment. In places the roof
was open to the angry sky, while many of the windows were gaunt and
shattered.
A clergyman’s voice somewhere was repeating a prayer in a low, distinct
voice, so that all could hear, yet above all were the sighs and groans
of the sufferers, and as one walked through that prostrate assembly of
victims more than one was seen to have already gone to that land that
lies beyond the human ken.
[Illustration: DAMAGE DONE IN THE CITY BY THE BOMBARDMENT.
(_The shaded portions indicate houses or buildings injured by shells or
fire._)]
The horrors of war were never more forcibly illustrated than in
Westminster Abbey that night, for the grim hand of Death was there, and
men and women lying with their faces to the roof looked into Eternity.
Every hospital in London was full, therefore the overflow had been
placed in the various churches. From the battlefields along the northern
defences, Epping, Edmonton, Barnet, Enfield, and other places where the
last desperate stand had been made, and from the barricades in the
northern suburbs ambulance wagons were continually arriving full of
wounded, all of whom were placed in the churches and in any large public
buildings which had remained undamaged by the bombardment.
St. George’s, Hanover Square, once the scene of many smart weddings, was
now packed with unfortunate wounded soldiers, British and Germans lying
side by side, while in the Westminster Cathedral and the Oratory at
Brompton the Roman Catholic priests made hundreds of poor fellows as
comfortable as they could, many members of the religious sisterhoods
acting as nurses. St. James’s Church in Piccadilly, St. Pancras Church,
Shoreditch Church, and St. Mary Abbotts’, Kensington, were all
improvised hospitals, and many grim and terrible scenes of agony were
witnessed during that long eventful night.
The light was dim everywhere, for there were only paraffin lamps, and by
their feeble illumination many a difficult operation had to be performed
by those London surgeons who one and all had come forward, and were now
working unceasingly. Renowned specialists from Harley Street, Cavendish
Square, Queen Anne Street, and the vicinity were directing the work in
all the improvised hospitals, men whose names were world-famous kneeling
and performing operations upon poor unfortunate private soldiers or upon
some labourer who had taken up a gun in defence of his home.
Of lady helpers there were hundreds. From Mayfair and Belgravia, from
Kensington and Bayswater, ladies had come forward offering their
services, and their devotion to the wounded was everywhere apparent. In
St. Andrew’s, Wells Street, St. Peter’s, Eaton Square, in the Scottish
Church in Crown Court, Covent Garden, in the Temple Church, in the Union
Chapel in Upper Street, in the Chapel Royal, Savoy, in St. Clement Danes
in the Strand, and in St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields there were wounded in
greater or less numbers, but the difficulties of treating them were
enormous owing to the lack of necessaries for the performance of
operations.
Weird and striking were the scenes within those hallowed places, as, in
the half darkness with the long, deep shadows, men struggled for life or
gave to the women kneeling at their side their name, their address, or a
last dying message to one they loved.
London that night was a city of shattered homes, of shattered hopes, of
shattered lives.
The silence of death had fallen everywhere. The only sounds that broke
the quiet within those churches were the sighs, the groans, and the
faint murmurings of the dying.
CHAPTER VII
TWO PERSONAL NARRATIVES
Some adequate idea of the individual efforts made by the citizens of
London to defend their homes against the invader may be gathered from
various personal narratives afterwards printed in certain newspapers.
All of them were tragic, thrilling, and struck that strong note of
patriotism which is ever latent in the breast of every Englishman, and
more especially the Londoner.
The story told to a reporter of the _Observer_ by a young man named
Charles Dale, who in ordinary life was a clerk in the employ of the
Royal Mail Steam Packet Company, in Moorgate Street, depicted, in
graphic details, the frightful conflict. He said:
“When the Hendon and Cricklewood Rifle Club was formed in 1906 I joined
it, and in a month we had over 500 members. From that time the
club--whose practices were held at the Normal Powder Company’s range, in
Reuter’s Lane, Hendon--increased until it became one of the largest
rifle clubs in the kingdom. As soon as news of the sudden invasion
reached us, we all reported ourselves at headquarters, and out of four
thousand of us there were only thirty-three absentees, all the latter
being too far from London to return. We were formed into small parties,
and, taking our rifles and ammunition, we donned our distinctive khaki
tunics and peaked caps, and each company made its way into Essex
independently, in order to assist the Legion of Frontiersmen and the
Free-shooters to harass the Germans.
“Three days after the enemy’s landing, I found myself, with seventeen of
my comrades, at a village called Dedham, close to the Stour, where we
opened our campaign by lying in ambush and picking off a number of
German sentries. It was exciting and risky work, especially when, under
cover of darkness, we crept up to the enemy’s outposts and attacked and
harassed them. Assisted by a number of the Frontiersmen, we scoured the
country across to Sudbury, and in that hot, exciting week that followed
dozens of the enemy fell to our guns. We snatched sleep where we could,
concealing ourselves in thickets and begging food from the cottagers,
all of whom gave us whatever they could spare. One morning, when just
outside Wormingford village, we were surprised by a party of Germans.
Whereupon we retired to a barn, and held it strongly for an hour until
the enemy were forced to retire, leaving ten of their number dead and
eight wounded. Ours was a very narrow escape, and had not the enemy been
compelled to fight in the open, we should certainly have been
overwhelmed and exterminated. We were an irregular force, therefore the
Germans would give us no quarter. We carried our lives in our hands
always.
“War brings with it strange companions. Many queer, adventurous spirits
fought beside us in those breathless days of fire and blood, when Maldon
was attacked by the Colchester garrison, and our gallant troops were
forced back after the battle of Purleigh. Each day that went past
brought out larger numbers of free-shooters from London, while the full
force of the patriotic Legion of Frontiersmen had now concentrated until
the whole country west of the line from Chelmsford to Saffron Walden
seemed swarming with us, and we must have given the enemy great trouble
everywhere. The day following the battle of Royston I had the most
narrow escape. Lying in ambush with eight other men, all members of the
Rifle Club, in College Wood, not far from Buntingford, I was asleep,
being utterly worn out, when we were suddenly discovered by a large
party of Uhlans. Two of my comrades were shot dead ere they could fire,
while five others, including one of my best friends, Tom Martin, a clerk
in the National Provincial Bank, who had started with me from Hendon,
were taken prisoners. I managed to dodge the two big Uhlans who
endeavoured to seize me, and into the face of one I fired my revolver,
blowing half his bearded face away. In a moment a German bullet whistled
past me; then another and another; but by marvellous good luck I was not
hit, and managed to escape into the denser part of the wood, where I
climbed a high tree, hiding among the branches, while the Germans below
sought in vain for me. Those moments seemed hours. I could hear my own
heart beat. I knew that they might easily discover me, for the foliage
was not very thick. Indeed, twice one of the search parties passed right
beneath me. Of my other comrade who had fled I had seen nothing. For
three hours I remained concealed there. Once I heard loud shouts and
then sounds of shots close by, and wondered whether any of our comrades,
whom I knew were in the vicinity, had discovered the Germans. Then at
last, just after sundown, I descended and carefully made my way out. For
a long time I wandered about until the dusk was deepening into night,
unable to discover my whereabouts. At last I found myself on the
outskirts of the wood, but hardly had I gone a hundred yards in the open
ere my eyes met a sight that froze my blood. Upon trees in close
proximity to each other were hanging the dead bodies of my five
comrades, including poor Tom Martin. They presented a grim, ghastly
spectacle. The Uhlans had strung them to trees, and afterwards riddled
them with bullets!
“Gradually, we were driven back upon London. Desperately we fought, each
one of us, and the personal risk of every member of our club, of any
other of the rifle clubs, and of the Frontiersmen, for the matter of
that, was very great. We were insufficient in numbers. Had we been more
numerous, I maintain that we could have so harassed the enemy that we
could have held him in check for many months. With the few thousands of
men we have we made it extremely uncomfortable for Von Kronhelm and his
forces. Had our number been greater we could have operated more in
unison with the British regular arms, and formed a line of defence
around London so complete that it could never have been broken. As it
was, however, when driven in, we were compelled to take a stand in
manning the forts and entrenchments of the London lines, I finding
myself in a hastily constructed trench not far from Enfield. While
engaged there with the enemy, a bullet took away the little finger of my
left hand, causing me excruciating pain, but it fortunately did not
place me hors-de-combat. Standing beside me was a costermonger from
Leman Street, Whitechapel, who had once been in the Militia, while next
him was a country squire from Hampshire, who was a good shot at grouse,
but who had never before handled a military rifle. In that narrow trench
in which we stood beneath the rain of German bullets we were of a verity
a strange, incongruous crowd, dirty, unkempt, unshaven, more than one of
us wearing hastily applied bandages upon places where we had received
injury. I had never faced death like that before, and I tell you it was
a weird and strange experience. Every man among us knit his brows,
loaded and fired, without speaking a word, except, perhaps, to ejaculate
a curse upon those who threatened to overwhelm us and capture our
capital.
“At last, though we fought valiantly--three men beside me having fallen
dead through injudiciously showing themselves above the earthworks--we
were compelled to evacuate our position. Then followed a terrible
guerilla warfare as, driven in across by Southgate to Finchley, we fell
back south upon London itself. The enemy, victorious, were following
upon the heels of our routed army, and it was seen that our last stand
must be made at the barricades, which, we heard, had in our absence
been erected in all the main roads leading in from the Northern Heights.
“On Hampstead Heath I found about a dozen or so of my comrades, whom I
had not seen since I had left Hendon, and heard from them that they had
been operating in Norfolk against the German Guards, who had landed at
King’s Lynn. With them I went through Hampstead and down Haverstock Hill
to the great barricade that had been erected across that thoroughfare
and Prince of Wales Road. It was a huge, ugly structure, built of every
conceivable article--overturned tramcars, furniture, paving stones,
pianos, wardrobes, scaffold boards, in fact everything and anything that
came handiest--while intertwined everywhere were hundreds of yards of
barbed wire. A small space had been left at the junction of the two
roads in order to allow people to enter, while on the top a big Union
Jack waved in the light breeze. In all the neighbouring houses I saw men
with rifles, while from one house pointed the menacing muzzle of a
Maxim, commanding the greater part of Haverstock Hill. There seemed also
to be other barricades in the smaller roads in the vicinity. But the one
at which I had been stationed was certainly a most formidable obstacle.
All sorts and conditions of men manned it. Women, too, were there,
fierce-eyed, towsled-haired women, who in their fury seemed to have
become half savage. Men shouted themselves hoarse, encouraging the armed
citizens to fight till death. But from the determined look upon their
faces no incentive was needed. They meant, every one of them, to bear
their part bravely, when the moment came.
“‘We’ve been here three whole days awaiting the enemy,’ one man said to
me, a dark-haired, bearded City man in a serge suit, who carried his
rifle slung upon his shoulder.
“‘They’ll be ’ere soon enough now, cockie,’ remarked a Londoner of the
lower class from Notting Dale. ‘There’ll be fightin’ ’ere before long,
depend on’t. This
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| |
| [Illustration] |
| |
| =COUNTY OF LONDON.= |
| |
| =LOOTING, HOUSEBREAKING, AND= |
| =OTHER OFFENCES.= |
| |
| =TAKE NOTICE.= |
| |
| (1) That any person, whether soldier or civilian, who enters any |
| premises whatsoever for the purposes of loot; or is found with loot |
| in his possession; or who commits any theft within the meaning of |
| the Act; or is guilty of theft from the person, or robbery, with or |
| without violence; or wilfully damages property; or compels by threats |
| any person to disclose the whereabouts of valuables, or who demands |
| money by menaces; or enters upon any private premises, viz. house, |
| shop, warehouse, office, or factory, without just or reasonable cause, |
| will be at once arrested and tried by military court-martial, and be |
| liable to penal servitude for a period not to exceed twenty years. |
| |
| (2) That from this date all magistrates at the Metropolitan Police |
| Courts will be superseded by military officers empowered to deal and |
| adjudicate upon all offences in contravention to law. |
| |
| (3) That the chief Military Court-martial is established at the |
| Metropolitan Police Court at Bow Street. |
| |
| FRANCIS BAMFORD, General, |
| Military Governor of London. |
| |
| |
| |
| Governor’s Headquarters, |
| New Scotland Yard, S.W., |
| _September 19th, 1910_. |
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
THE ABOVE PROCLAMATION WAS POSTED ALL OVER THE
METROPOLIS ON THE DAY PRIOR TO THE BOMBARDMENT.
is more excitin’ sport than Kempton Park, ain’t it--eh?’
“That man was right, for a few hours later, when Von Kronhelm appeared
upon Hampstead Heath and launched his infantry upon London, our
barricade became a perfect hell. I was on the roof of a house close by,
lying full length behind a sheltering chimney-stack, and firing upon the
advancing troops for all I was worth. From every window in the vicinity
we poured forth a veritable rain of death upon the Germans, while our
Maxim spat fire incessantly, and the men at the barricade kept up a
splendid fusillade. Ere long Haverstock Hill became a perfect inferno.
Perched up where I was, I commanded a wide view of all that was in
progress. Again and again the Germans were launched to the assault, but
such a withering fire did we keep up that we held them constantly in
check. Our Maxim served us admirably, for ever and anon it cut a lane in
the great wall of advancing troops, until the whole roadway was covered
with dead and maimed Germans. To my own gun many fell, as to those of my
valiant comrades, for every one of us had sworn that the enemy should
never enter London if we could prevent it.
“I saw a woman with her hair dishevelled deliberately mount to the top
of the barricade and wave a small Union Jack; but next instant she paid
for her folly with her life, and fell back dead upon the roadway below.
If the enemy lost heavily, we did not altogether escape. At the
barricade and in the houses in the immediate vicinity there were a
number of dead and a quantity of wounded, the latter being carried away
and tended to by a number of devoted ladies from Fitzjohn’s Avenue, and
the more select thoroughfares in the neighbourhood. Local surgeons were
also there, working unceasingly. For fully an hour the frightful
conflict continued. The Germans were dogged in their perseverance, while
we were equally active in our desperate resistance. The conflict was
awful. The scenes in the streets below me now were beyond description.
In High Street, Hampstead, a number of shops had been set on fire and
were burning; while above the din, the shouts and the crackle of the
rifles, there was now and then heard the deep boom of field guns away in
the distance.
“We had received information that Von Kronhelm himself was quite near
us, up at Jack Straw’s Castle, and more than one of us only wished he
would show himself in Haverstock Hill, and thus allow us a chance of
taking a pot-shot at him.
“Suddenly the enemy retreated back up Roslyn Hill, and we cheered loudly
at what we thought was our victory. Alas! our triumph was not of long
duration. I had descended from my position on the roof, and was walking
at rear of the barricade, where the pavement and roadway were slippery
with blood, when of a sudden the big guns, which it seemed had now been
planted on Hampstead Heath, gave tongue, and a shot passed high above us
far south into London. In a moment a dozen other guns roared, and within
ten minutes we found ourselves beneath a perfect hail of high explosive
projectiles, though being so near the guns we were comparatively safe.
Most of us sought shelter in the neighbouring houses. No enemy was in
sight, for they had now gathered up their wounded and retired back up to
Hampstead. Their dead they left scattered over the roadway, a grim,
awful sight on that bright, sunny morning.
“‘They’re surely not going to bombard a defenceless city?’ cried a man
to me--a man whom I recognised as a neighbour of mine at Hendon. ‘It’s
against all the rules of war.’
“‘They are bombarding London because of our defence,’ I said, and
scarcely were those words out of my mouth when there was a bright red
flash, a loud report, and the whole front of a neighbouring house was
torn out into the roadway, while my friend and myself reeled by force of
the terrific explosion. Two men standing near us had been blown to
atoms.
“Some of the women about us now became panic-stricken. But the men were
mostly cool and determined, standing within the shelter walls of the
houses, down areas, or in coal cellers beneath the street. Thus for over
three hours we waited under fire, not knowing from one moment to another
whether a shell might not fall among us.
“Suddenly our fears were increased, when, soon after four o’clock, the
Germans again appeared in Haverstock Hill, this time with artillery,
which, notwithstanding the heavy fire we instantly directed upon them,
they established in such a position as to completely command our
hastily-constructed defences. The fire from Hampstead Heath was
slackening when suddenly one of those guns before us on Haverstock Hill
sent a shell right into the centre of our barricade. The explosion was
awful. The whole front of the house in which I was fell out into the
roadway, while a dozen heroic men were blown out of all recognition, and
a great breach made in the obstruction. Another shell, another and
another, struck in our midst, utterly disorganising our defence, and
each time making great breaches in our huge barricade. Neither Maxim nor
rifle was of any use against those awful shells.
“I stood in the wrecked room covered with dust and blood, wondering what
the end was to be. To fire my rifle in that moment was useless. Not only
did the German artillery train their guns upon the barricade, but on the
houses which we had placed in a state of defence. They pounded away at
them, and in a few minutes had reduced several to ruins, burying in the
débris the gallant Londoners defending them. The house upon the roof of
which I had, earlier in the day, taken up my position, was struck by two
shells in rapid succession, and simply demolished, over forty brave men
losing their lives in the terrible catastrophe.
“Again the enemy, after wrecking our defences, retired smartly up the
hill as the terrible bombardment of London ceased. Our losses in the
shelling of the barricade had been terrible. The roadway behind us was
strewn with dead and dying, and with others I helped to bandage the
wounded and remove them to private houses in the Adelaide and King
Henry’s Roads, where the doctors were attending to their injuries. In
Haverstock Hill lay the bodies of many women, more than one with a
revolver still grasped in her stiffened hand. Ah! the scenes at that
barricade defy description. They were awful. The pavements were like
those of slaughter-houses and the whole road to beyond the Adelaide had
been utterly wrecked, there being not a single house intact.
“And yet we rallied. Reinforcements came up from the direction of
Regent’s Park--a great, unorganised crowd of armed men and women, doubly
enraged by the cruel bombardment and the burning of their homes. With
these reinforcements we resolved to still hold the débris of our
barricade--to still dispute the advance of the invader, knowing that one
division must certainly come down that road. So we reorganised our force
and waited--waited while the sun sank with its crimson afterglow and
darkness crept on, watching the red fires of London reflected upon the
night sky, and wondering each one of us what was to be our fate.
“For hours we waited there, until the Kaiser’s legions came upon us,
sweeping down Roslyn Hill to where we were still making a last stand.
Though the street lamps were unlit, we saw them advancing by the angry
glare of the fires of London, while we, too, were full in the light, and
a mark for them. They fired upon us, and we returned their fusillade. We
stood man to man, concealed behind the débris wherever we could get
shelter from the rain of lead they poured upon us. They advanced by
rushes, taking our position by storm. I was in the roadway, concealed
behind an overturned tramcar, into the woodwork of which bullets were
constantly imbedding themselves. The man next me fell backward--dead,
without a word. But I kept on, well knowing that in the end we must give
way. Those well-equipped hordes of the Kaiser I saw before me were, I
knew, the conquerors of London. Yet we fought on valiantly for King and
country--fought even when we came hand to hand. I shot a standard-bearer
dead, but in an instant another took his place. For a second the German
standard was trampled in the dust, but next moment it was aloft again,
amid the ringing cheers of the conquerors. Again I fired, again, and yet
again, as fast as I could reload, when of a sudden I knew that we were
defeated, for our fire had slackened, and the Germans ran in past me. I
turned, and as I did so I faced a big, burly fellow with a revolver. I
put my hand to my own, but ere I could get it out a light flashed full
in my face, and then I knew no more. When I recovered consciousness I
found myself in the North-West London Hospital, in Kentish Town Road,
with my head bandaged, and a nurse looking gravely into my face.
“And that is very briefly my story of how I fared during the terrible
siege of London. I could tell you of many and many horrible scenes, of
ruthless loss of life, and of women and children the innocent victims of
those bloody engagements. But why should I? The horrors of the war are
surely known to you, alas, only too well--far too well.”
* * * * *
Another narrative of great interest as showing the aspect of London
immediately following its occupation by the Germans was that of a
middle-aged linotype operator named James Jellicoe, employed on the
_Weekly Dispatch_, who made the following statement to a reporter of the
_Evening News_. It was published in the last edition of that journal
prior to the suppression of the entire London Press by Von Kronhelm. He
said:
“When the barricades in North London had been stormed by the Germans,
and they had fought their way down to Oxford Street and Holborn, I
chanced to be in Farringdon Street. Right through the bombardment during
the whole afternoon we compositors on the _Mail_, the _Evening News_,
and the _Dispatch_ were compelled to work, and it had been a most
exciting time, I can tell you. We didn’t know from one moment to another
when a shell might fall through the roof among us. Two or three places
in Whitefriars were struck, and _Answers’_ office in Tudor Street had
been burned out. I had left work at eleven and gone to meet my boy
Frank, who is on the _Star_ in Stonecutter Street, intending to take him
home to Kennington Park Road, where I live, when I first caught sight of
the Germans. They were passing over the Viaduct, marching towards the
City, while some of them ran down the steps into the Farringdon Road,
ranging themselves along beneath the Viaduct as guards, in order to
protect it, I suppose. They seemed a tall, sturdy, well-equipped body of
men, and entirely surprised me, as they did the other people about me,
who now saw them for the first time. I had been setting up ‘copy’ about
the enemy for the past ten days or so, but had never imagined them to be
such a sturdy race as they really were. There was no disorder among
them. They obeyed the German words of command just like machines, while
up above them marched battalion after battalion of infantry, and troop
after troop of clattering cavalry, away to Newgate Street and the City.
“I heard it said that the Lord Mayor had already been taken a prisoner,
and that the streets of the City proper were swarming with Germans. A
quarter of an hour later I called for my boy, and together we made our
way back along New Bridge Street to Blackfriars Bridge, when, to my
amazement, I found such a great press of people flying south that many
helpless women and children were being crushed to death. There was a
frightful scene, illuminated by the red glare of the
[Illustration: DAMAGE DONE IN WESTMINSTER BY THE BOMBARDMENT.
_The shaded portions indicate houses or buildings injured by shells or
fire._]
flames devouring St. Paul’s Station. The railway bridge was thus cut
off, otherwise it might have considerably relieved the frantic traffic.
After half a dozen futile attempts to get across--for it seemed that
there were two human tides meeting there, persons desirous of
re-entering London after the bombardment, and those flying in terror
from the enemy--I resolved to abandon it. Therefore, with my boy Frank,
I walked along the Embankment until I got close to Waterloo Bridge,
when, as I approached the great single arch that spans the roadway, I
noticed a boat containing three men shoot out into the river from
beneath the wall, close to where we were walking. It slipped silently
beneath the shadow of the second arch, where there was some scaffolding,
the fine old bridge being under repair.
“The bridge above was just as crowded as that at Blackfriars, the throng
struggling both ways, meeting and fighting among themselves for the
mastery. In those frantic efforts to cross the river, men and women had
their clothes literally torn from their backs. The men were demons in
that hour of terror; the women became veritable furies. On the
Embankment where I stood in the shadow, however, there were few persons.
The great fires in the Strand threw their reflection upon the surface of
the water, but the Savoy, Somerset House, and the Cecil also threw great
black shadows. The mysterious movements of the three men beneath the
bridge attracted me. They had rowed so suddenly out just as we passed
that they startled me, and now my curiosity became aroused. Concealed in
the deep shadow I leaned over the parapet, and watching saw them make
fast the boat to the scaffold platform on a level with the water, and
then one man, clinging to the ladder, clambered up into the centre of
the arch beneath the roadway. I could not distinctly see what he was
doing, for he was hidden among the scaffolding and in the darkness.
“Presently a second man from the boat swung himself upon the ladder and
ascended to his companion on the platform above. I could distinguish
them standing together, apparently in consultation. Close to me was the
pier of the Thames Police, and both of us slipped down there, but found
nobody in charge. The police, Metropolitan, City, and Thames, were all
engaged in the streets on that memorable night. Nevertheless, the trio
beneath the bridge were acting suspiciously. What could we do? German
secret agents had committed many outrages during the past ten days, more
especially in blowing up bridges and wrecking public buildings with
bombs, in order to disorganise any attempt at resistance, and strike
terror into the hearts of Londoners. A bomb had been exploded on the
terrace of the House of Commons two days before, causing great havoc,
while the entrance hall of the Admiralty had also been wrecked. Penge
tunnel had, by explosives, been rendered impassable, and an attempt in
the tunnel at Merstham had very nearly been successful. Were these
suspicious men engaged in the dastardly act of blowing up Waterloo
Bridge?
“It suddenly struck me that it might be part of Von Kronhelm’s scheme to
blow up certain of the bridges in order to prevent those who had fled
south from returning and harassing his troops, or else he wished to keep
the inhabitants remaining north of the Thames, and prevent them from
escaping. As I stood upon the police pier I saw the two men high upon
the scaffold motion to the third man, still in the boat, when, after a
few moments the last-named individual left the boat, carrying something
very carefully, an object looking like a long iron cylinder, and slowly
made his way up the perpendicular ladder to where the pair were standing
right beneath the crown of the huge arch.
“Then I knew that they were Germans, and realised their foul intention.
A few feet above them hundreds were fighting and struggling, all
unconscious of that frightful explosive they were affixing to the arch.
What could I do? To warn the crowd above was impossible. I was far
below, and my voice would not be heard above the din.
“‘What are those fellows doing, do you think, father?’ inquired my boy,
with curiosity.
“‘Doing?’ I cried. ‘Why, they’re going to blow up the bridge! And we
must save it. But how?’
“I looked around, but there was unfortunately no one in the immediate
vicinity. I had no weapon, but the fellows were no doubt armed and
desperate. Into the dark police office I peered, but could see nothing.
Then suddenly an idea occurred to me. If I raised the alarm at that
moment, they would certainly escape. Both Frank and I could row,
therefore I sprang into the police boat at the pier, unmoored her, and
urged my son to take an oar with me. In less time than it takes to
relate we had pulled across into the shadow of the big arch, and were
alongside the empty boat of the conspirators.
“‘Row away for your life!’ I cried to Frank, as I sprang into the other
boat. Then taking out my knife I cut her adrift in an instant and pulled
out hard with the tide towards Cleopatra’s Needle, while Frank, grasping
my intention, shot away towards the Surrey bank. Scarce had I taken out
my knife to sever the cord, however, than the three men above noticed me
and shouted down in broken English. Indeed, as I pulled off there was
the sharp crack of a revolver above me, and I think I narrowly escaped
being winged. Nevertheless, I had caught the three blackguards in a
trap. The explosive had already been fixed to the crown of the arch, but
if they lit the fuse they must themselves be blown to atoms.
“I could hear their shouts and curses from where I rested upon my oars,
undecided how to act. If I could only have found at that moment a couple
of those brave ‘Frontiersmen’ or ‘Britons,’ or members of rifle clubs,
who had been such trouble to the enemy out in Essex! There were hundreds
upon hundreds of them in London, but they were in the streets still
harassing the Germans wherever they could. I rested on my oars in full
view of the spies, but beyond revolver range, mounting guard upon them,
as it were. They might, after all, decide to carry out their evil
design, for if they were good swimmers they might ignite the fuse and
then dive into the water, trusting to luck to get to the steps around
Cleopatra’s Needle. Would they dare do this?
“They kept shouting to me, waving their hands excitedly; but I could not
distinguish what they said, so great was the din on the bridge above.
Frank had disappeared. Whither he had gone I knew not. He had, however,
seen the revolver fired at me, and recognising what was taking place
would, I felt certain, seek assistance. One of the men descending the
ladder to the water, shouted again to me, waving his hand frantically
and pointing upward. From this I concluded that he intended to convey
that the time-fuse was already ignited and they were begging for their
lives to be saved. Such men are always cowards at the supreme moment
when they must face death. I saw the fellow’s pale, black-bearded face
in the shadow, and an evil, murderous countenance it was, I assure you.
But to his shouts, his threats, his frantic appeals I made no response.
I had caught all three of them, and paused there triumphant. Would Frank
ever return? Suddenly, however, I saw a boat in the full light out in
the centre of the river, crossing in my direction, and hailed it
frantically. The answering shout was my boy’s, and as he drew nearer I
saw that with him were four men armed with rifles. They were evidently
four Freeshooters who had been in the roadway above to hold the bridge
against the enemy’s advance!
“With swift strokes of the oars Frank brought the police boat up
alongside mine, and in a few brief sentences I explained the situation
and pointed to the three conspirators.
“‘Let’s shoot them from where we are!’ urged one of the men, who wore
the little bronze badge of a Frontiersman, and without further word he
raised his rifle and let fly at the man clinging to the ladder. The
first shot went wide, but the second hit, for with a cry the fellow
released his hold and fell back into the dark tide, his lifeless body
being carried in our direction.
“The other three men in the boat, members of the Southfields (Putney)
Rifle Club, opened a hail of fire upon the pair hidden in the
scaffolding above. It was a dangerous proceeding, for had a stray bullet
struck that case full of explosives, we should have been all blown to
atoms in an instant. Several times all four emptied their magazines into
that semicircular opening, but to no effect. The fusilade from the river
quickly attracted the attention of those above, to whom the affair was a
complete mystery. One rifleman upon the bridge, thinking we were the
enemy, actually opened fire upon us; but we shouted who we were, and
that spies were concealed below, whereupon he at once desisted.
“A dozen times our party fired, when at last one man’s dark body fell
heavily into the stream with a loud splash; and about a minute later the
third fell backwards, and the rolling river closed over him. All three
had thus met with their well-merited deserts.
“‘I wonder if they’ve lit the fuse?’ suggested one Frontiersman. ‘Let’s
go nearer.’
“We both rowed forward beneath the arch, when, to our horror, we all saw
straight above us, right under the crown, a faint red glow. A fuse was
burning there!
“‘Quick!’ cried one of the sharpshooters. ‘There’s not an instant to
spare. Land me at the ladder, and then row away for your lives. I’ll go
and put it out if there’s yet time.’
“In a moment Frank had turned the bow of the boat, and the gallant
fellow had run nimbly up the ladder as he sheered off again. We saw him
up upon the scaffolding. We watched him struggling to get the iron
cylinder free from the wire with which it was bound against the stone.
He tugged and tugged, but in vain. At any instant the thing might
explode and cause the death of hundreds, including ourselves. At last,
however, something suddenly fell with a big splash into the stream. Then
we sent up a ringing cheer.
“Waterloo Bridge was saved!
“People on the bridge above shouted down to us, asking what we were
doing, but we were too occupied to reply, and as the man who had so
gallantly risked his life to save the grand old bridge from destruction
regained the boat we pulled away back to the police pier. Hardly had we
got ashore when we distinctly saw a bright red flash beneath the
Hungerford railway bridge, followed by a terrific explosion, as part of
the massive iron structure fell into the river, a tangled mass of
girders. All of us chanced to have our faces turned towards Charing
Cross at that moment, and so great was the explosion that we distinctly
felt the concussion. The dastardly work was, like the attempt we had
just foiled, that of German spies, acting under orders to cause a series
of explosions at the time of the entry of the troops into London, thus
to increase the terror in the hearts of the populace. But instead of
terrifying them it only irritated them. Such wanton destruction was both
unpardonable and inconceivable, for it seemed most probable that the
Germans would now require the South-Eastern Railway for strategic
purposes. And yet their spies had destroyed the bridge.
“With the men who had shot the three Germans and my lad Frank I ascended
to Waterloo Bridge by the steps from the Embankment, and there we fought
our way through the entrance of the huge barricade that had been hastily
erected. The riflemen who had so readily responded to Frank’s alarm
explained to us that they and their companions, aided by a thousand
armed civilians of all kinds, intended to hold the bridge in case the
enemy attempted to come southward upon the Surrey side. They told us
also that all the bridges were being similarly held by those who had
survived the terrible onslaught upon the barricades in the northern
suburbs. The Germans were already in the City, the Lord Mayor was a
prisoner, and the German flag was flying in the smoke above the War
Office, upon the National Gallery, and other buildings. Of all this we
were aware, and from the aspect of those fierce, determined-looking men
around us we knew that if the enemy’s hordes attempted to storm the
bridges they would meet with a decidedly warm reception.
“Behind the bridge the multitude pressed on both ways, so that we were
stopped close behind the barricade, where I found myself held tightly
beside a neat-looking little Maxim, manned by four men in different
military uniforms--evidently survivors from the disaster at Epping or at
Enfield. This was not the only machine gun, for there were, I saw, four
others, so placed that they commanded the whole of Wellington Street,
the entrances to the Strand and up to Bow Street. The great crowd in the
open space before Somerset House were struggling to get upon the bridge;
but news having been brought of bodies of the enemy moving along the
Strand from Trafalgar Square, the narrow entrance was quickly blocked up
by paving-stones and iron railings, torn up from before some houses in
the vicinity.
“We had not long to wait. The people left in Wellington Street, finding
their retreat cut off, turned back into the Strand or descended the
steps to the Embankment, and so had nearly all dispersed, when, of a
sudden, a large body of the enemy’s infantry swept round from the
Strand, and came full upon the barricade. Next second our Maxims spat
their deadly fire with a loud rattle and din, and about me on every hand
men were shooting. I waited to see the awful effect of our rain of lead
upon the Germans. Hundreds dropped, but hundreds still seemed to take
their place. I saw them place a field-gun in position at the corner of
the Strand, and then I recognised their intention to shell us. So, being
unarmed and a non-combatant, I fled with my son towards my own home in
the Kennington Park Road. I had not, however, got across the bridge
before shells began to explode against the barricade, blowing it and
several of our gallant men to atoms. Once behind I glanced, and saw too
plainly that the attempt to hold the bridge was utterly hopeless. There
were not sufficient riflemen. Then we both ran on--to save our lives.
And you know the rest--ruin, disaster, and death reigned in London that
night. Our men fought for their lives and homes, but the Germans,
angered at our resistance, gave no quarter to those not in uniform. Ah!
the slaughter was awful.”
CHAPTER VIII
GERMANS SACKING THE BANKS
Day dawned dismally and wet on September the 21st.
Over London the sky was still obscured by the smoke-pall, though as the
night passed many of the raging fires had spent themselves.
Trafalgar Square was filled with troops, who had piled arms and were
standing at their ease. The men were laughing and smoking, enjoying a
rest after the last forward movement and the street fighting of that
night of horrors.
The losses on both sides during the past three days had been enormous;
of the number of London citizens killed and wounded it was impossible to
calculate. There had, in the northern suburbs, been wholesale butchery
everywhere, so gallantly had the barricades been defended.
Great camps had now been formed in Hyde Park, in the Green Park between
Constitution Hill and Piccadilly, and in St. James’s Park. The Magdeburg
Fusiliers were being formed up on the Horse Guards Parade, and from the
flagstaff there now fluttered the ensign of the commander of an army
corps in place of the British flag. A large number of Uhlans and
Cuirassiers were encamped at the west end of the Park, opposite
Buckingham Palace, and both the Wellington Barracks and the Cavalry
Barracks at Knightsbridge were occupied by Germans.
Many officers were already billeted in the Savoy, the Cecil, the
Carlton, the Grand, and Victoria hotels, while the British Museum, the
National Gallery, the South Kensington Museum, the Tower, and a number
of other collections of pictures and antiques were all guarded strongly
by German sentries. The enemy had thus seized our national treasures.
London awoke to find herself a German city.
In the streets lounging groups of travel-worn sons of the Fatherland
were everywhere, and German was heard on every hand. Every ounce of
foodstuff was being rapidly commandeered by hundreds of foraging
parties, who went to each grocer’s, baker’s, or provision shop in the
various districts, seized all they could find, valued it, and gave
official receipts for it.
The price of food in London that morning was absolutely prohibitive, as
much as two shillings being asked for a twopenny loaf. The Germans had,
it was afterwards discovered, been all the time, since the Sunday when
they landed, running over large cargoes of supplies of all sorts to the
Essex, Lincolnshire, and Norfolk coasts, where they had established huge
supply bases, well knowing that there was not sufficient food in the
country to feed their armed hordes in addition to the population.
Shops in Tottenham Court Road, Holborn, Edgeware Road, Oxford Street,
Camden Road, and Harrow Road were systematically visited by the foraging
parties, who commenced their work at dawn. Those places that were closed
and their owners absent were at once broken open, and everything seized
and carted to either Hyde Park or St. James’s Park, for though Londoners
might starve, the Kaiser’s troops intended to be fed.
In some cases a patriotic shopkeeper attempted to resist. Indeed, in
more than one case a tradesman wilfully set his shop on fire rather than
its contents should fall into the enemy’s hands. In other cases the
tradesmen who received the official German receipts burned them in
contempt before the officer’s eyes.
The guidance of these foraging parties was, in very many cases, in the
hands of Germans in civilian clothes, and it was now seen how complete
and helpful the enemy’s system of espionage had been in London. Most of
these men were Germans who, having served in the army, had come over to
England and obtained employment as waiters, clerks, bakers,
hairdressers, and private servants, and being bound by their oath to the
Fatherland had served their country as spies. Each man, when obeying the
Imperial command to join the German arms, had placed in the lapel of his
coat a button of a peculiar shape, with which he had long ago been
provided, and by which he was instantly recognised as a loyal subject of
the Kaiser.
This huge body of German solders, who for years had passed in England as
civilians, was, of course, of enormous use to Von Kronhelm, for they
acted as guides not only on the march and during the entry to London,
but materially assisted in the victorious advance in the Midlands.
Indeed, the Germans had for years kept a civilian army in England, and
yet we had, ostrich-like, buried our heads in the sand and refused to
turn our eyes to the grave peril that had for so long threatened.
Systematically, the Germans were visiting every shop and warehouse in
the shopping districts, and seizing everything eatable they could
discover. The enemy were taking the food from the mouths of the poor in
East and South London, and as they went southward across the river, so
the populace retired, leaving their homes at the mercy of the ruthless
invader.
Upon all the bridges across the Thames stood German guards, and none
were allowed to cross either way without permits.
Soon after dawn Von Kronhelm and his staff rode down Haverstock Hill
with a large body of cavalry, and made his formal entry into London,
first having an interview with the Lord Mayor, and an hour afterwards
establishing his headquarters at the new War Office in Whitehall, over
which he hoisted his special flag as Commander-in-Chief. It was found
that, though a good deal of damage had been done externally to the
building, the interior had practically escaped, save one or two rooms.
Therefore, the Field-Marshal installed himself in the private room of
the War Minister, and telegraphic and telephonic communication was
quickly established, while a wireless telegraph apparatus was placed
upon the ruined summit of Big Ben for the purpose of communicating with
Germany, in case the cables were interrupted by being cut at sea.
The day after the landing a similar apparatus had been erected on the
Monument at Yarmouth, and it had been daily in communication with the
one at Bremen. The Germans left nothing to chance. They were always
prepared for every emergency.
The clubs in Pall Mall were now being used by German officers, who
lounged in easy-chairs, smoking and taking their ease, German soldiers
being on guard outside. North of the Thames seemed practically deserted,
save for the invaders, who swarmed everywhere. South of the Thames the
cowed and terrified populace were asking what the end was to be. What
was the Government doing? It had fled to Bristol and left London to its
fate, they complained.
What the German demands were was not known until midday, when the
_Evening News_ published an interview with Sir Claude Harrison, the Lord
Mayor, which gave authentic details of them.
They were as follows:--
1. _Indemnity of £300,000,000, paid in ten annual instalments._
2. _Until this indemnity is paid in full, German troops to occupy
Edinburgh, Rosyth, Chatham, Dover, Portsmouth, Devonport, Pembroke,
Yarmouth, Hull._
3. _Cession to Germany of the Shetlands, Orkneys, Bantry Bay,
Malta, Gibraltar, and Tasmania._
4. _India, north of a line drawn from Calcutta to Baroda, to be
ceded to Russia._
5. _The independence of Ireland to be recognised._
Of the claim of £300,000,000, fifty millions was demanded from London,
the sum in question to be paid within twelve hours.
The Lord Mayor had, it appeared, sent his secretary to the Prime
Minister at Bristol bearing the original document in the handwriting of
Von Kronhelm. The Prime Minister had acknowledged its receipt by
telegraph both to the Lord Mayor and to the German Field-Marshal, but
there the matter had ended.
The twelve hours’ grace was nearly up, and the German Commander, seated
in Whitehall, had received no reply.
In the corner of the large, pleasant, well-carpeted room sat a German
telegraph engineer with a portable instrument, in direct communication
with the Emperor’s private cabinet at Potsdam, and over that wire,
messages were continually passing and repassing.
The grizzled old soldier paced the room impatiently. His Emperor had
only an hour ago sent him a message of warm congratulation, and had
privately informed him of the high honours he intended to bestow upon
him. The German Eagle was victorious, and London--the great,
unconquerable London--lay crushed, torn, and broken.
The marble clock upon the mantelshelf chimed eleven upon its silvery
bells, causing Von Kronhelm to turn from the window to glance at his own
watch.
“Tell His Majesty that it is eleven o’clock, and that there is no reply
to hand,” he said sharply in German to the man in uniform seated at the
table in the corner.
The instrument clicked rapidly, and a silence followed.
The German Commander waited anxiously. He stood bending slightly over
the green tape in order to read the Imperial order the instant it
flashed from beneath the sea.
Five minutes--ten minutes passed. The shouting of military commands in
German came up from Whitehall below. Nothing else broke the quiet.
Von Kronhelm, his face more furrowed and more serious, again paced the
carpet.
Suddenly the little instrument whirred and clicked as its thin green
tape rolled out.
In an instant the Generalissimo of the Kaiser’s army sprang to the
telegraphist’s side, and read the Imperial command.
For a moment he held the piece of tape between his fingers, then crushed
it in his hand and stood motionless.
He had received orders which, though against his desire, he was
compelled to obey.
Summoning several members of his staff who had installed themselves in
other comfortable rooms in the vicinity, he held a long consultation
with them.
In the meantime telegraphic despatches were received from Sheffield,
Manchester, Birmingham, and other German headquarters, all telling the
same story--the complete investment and occupation of the big cities and
the pacification of the inhabitants.
One hour’s grace was, however, allowed to London--till noon.
Then orders were issued, bugles rang out across the parks, and in the
main thoroughfares, where arms were piled, causing the troops to fall
in, and within a quarter of an hour large bodies of infantry and
engineers were moving along the Strand, in the direction of the City.
At first the reason of all this was a mystery, but very shortly it was
realised what was intended when a detachment of the 5th Hanover Regiment
advanced to the gate of the Bank of England opposite the Exchange, and,
after some difficulty, broke it open and entered, followed by some
engineers of Von Mirbach’s Division. The building was very soon
occupied, and, under the direction of General von Klepper himself, an
attempt was made to open the strong-rooms, wherein was stored that vast
hoard of England’s wealth. What actually occurred at that spot can only
be imagined, as the commander of the IVth Army Corps and one or two
officers and men were the only persons present. It is surmised,
however, that the strength of the vaults was far greater than they had
imagined, and that, though they worked for hours, all was in vain.
While this was in progress, however, parties of engineers were making
organised raids upon the banks in Lombard Street, Lothbury, Moorgate
Street, and Broad Street, as well as upon branch banks in Oxford Street,
the Strand, and other places in the West End.
At one bank on the left-hand side of Lombard Street, dynamite being used
to force the strong-room, the first bullion was seized, while at nearly
all the banks sooner or later the vaults were opened, and great bags and
boxes of gold coin were taken out and conveyed in carefully-guarded
carts to the Bank of England, now in the possession of Germany.
In some banks--those of more modern construction--the greatest
resistance was offered by the huge steel doors and concrete and steel
walls and other devices for security. But nothing could, alas! resist
the high explosives used, and in the end breaches were made, in all
cases, and wealth uncounted and untold extracted and conveyed to
Threadneedle Street for safe keeping.
Engineers and infantry handled those heavy boxes and those big bundles
of securities gleefully, officers carefully counting each box or bag or
packet as it was taken out to be carted or carried away by hand.
German soldiers under guard struggled along Lothbury beneath great
burdens of gold, and carts, requisitioned out of the East End, rumbled
heavily all the afternoon, escorted by soldiers. Hammersmith,
Camberwell, Hampstead, and Willesden yielded up their quota of the great
wealth of London; but though soon after four o’clock a breach was made
in the strong-rooms of the Bank of England by means of explosives,
nothing in the vaults was touched. The Germans simply entered there and
formally took possession.
The coin collected from other banks was carefully kept, each separate
from another, and placed in various rooms under strong guards, for it
seemed to be the intention of Germany simply to hold London’s wealth as
security.
That afternoon very few banks--except the German ones--escaped notice.
Of course, there were a few small branches in the suburbs which remained
unvisited, yet by six o’clock Von Kronhelm was in possession of enormous
quantities of gold.
In one or two quarters there had been opposition on the part of the
armed guards established by the banks at the first news of the invasion.
But any such resistance had, of course, been futile, and the man who had
dared to fire upon the German soldiers had in every case been shot down.
Thus, when darkness fell, Von Kronhelm, from the corner of his room in
the War Office, was able to report to his Imperial Master that not only
had he occupied London, but that, receiving no reply to his demand for
indemnity, he had sacked it and taken possession not only of the Bank of
England, but of the cash deposits in most of the other banks in the
metropolis.
That night the evening papers described the wild happenings of the
afternoon, and London saw herself not only shattered but ruined.
The frightened populace across the river stood breathless.
What was now to happen?
Though London lay crushed and occupied by the enemy, though the Lord
Mayor was a prisoner of war and the banks in the hands of the Germans,
though the metropolis had been wrecked and more than half its
inhabitants had fled southward and westward into the country, yet the
enemy received no reply to their demand for an indemnity and the cession
of British territory.
Von Kronhelm, ignorant of what had occurred in the House of Commons at
Bristol, sat in Whitehall and wondered. He knew well that the English
were no fools, and their silence, therefore, caused him considerable
uneasiness. He had lost in the various engagements over 50,000 men, yet
nearly 200,000 still remained. His
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| |
| [Illustration] |
| |
| CITY OF LONDON. |
| |
| =CITIZENS OF LONDON.= |
| |
| WE, the GENERAL COMMANDING the German Imperial Army occupying London, |
| give notice that: |
| |
| (1) THE STATE OF WAR AND OF SIEGE continues to exist, and all categories |
| of crime, more especially the contravention of all orders already |
| issued, will be judged by Councils of War, and punished in conformity |
| with martial law. |
| |
| (2) THE INHABITANTS OF LONDON and its suburbs are ordered to instantly |
| deliver up all arms and ammunition of whatever kind they possess. The |
| term arms includes firearms, sabres, swords, daggers, revolvers, and |
| sword-canes. Landlords and occupiers of houses are charged to see that |
| this order is carried out, but in the case of their absence the |
| municipal authorities and officials of the London County Council are |
| charged to make domiciliary visits, minute and searching, being |
| accompanied by a military guard. |
| |
| (3) ALL NEWSPAPERS, JOURNALS, GAZETTES, AND PROCLAMATIONS, of whatever |
| description, are hereby prohibited, and until further notice nothing |
| further must be printed, except documents issued publicly by the |
| military commander. |
| |
| (4) ANY PRIVATE PERSON OR PERSONS taking arms against the German troops |
| after this notice will be EXECUTED. |
| |
| (5) ON THE CONTRARY, the Imperial German troops will respect private |
| property, and no requisition will be allowed to be made unless it bears |
| the authorisation of the Commander-in-Chief. |
| |
| (6) ALL PUBLIC PLACES are to be closed at 8 P.M. |
| All persons found in the streets of London after 8 P.M. |
| will be arrested by the patrols. There is no exception to this rule |
| except in the case of German Officers, and also in the case of doctors |
| visiting their patients. Municipal officials will also be allowed out, |
| providing they obtain a permit from the German headquarters. |
| |
| (7) MUNICIPAL AUTHORITIES MUST provide for the lighting of the streets. |
| In cases where this is impossible, each householder must hang a lantern |
| outside his house from nightfall until 8 A.M. |
| |
| (8) AFTER TO-MORROW morning, at 10 o’clock, the women and children of |
| the population of London will be allowed to pass without hindrance. |
| |
| (9) MUNICIPAL AUTHORITIES MUST, with as little delay as possible, |
| provide accommodation for the German troops in private dwellings, in |
| fire-stations, barracks, hotels, and houses that are still habitable. |
| |
| =VON KRONHELM,= |
| |
| =Commander-in-Chief.= |
| GERMAN MILITARY HEADQUARTERS, |
| WHITEHALL, LONDON, _September 21, 1910_. |
+--------------------------------------------------------------------------+
VON KRONHELM’S PROCLAMATION TO THE CITIZENS
OF LONDON.
army of invasion was a no mean responsibility, especially when at any
moment the British might regain command of the sea. His supplies and
reinforcements would then be at once cut off. It was impossible for him
to live upon the country, and his food bases in Suffolk and Essex were
not sufficiently extensive to enable him to make a prolonged campaign.
Indeed, the whole scheme of operations which had been so long discussed
and perfected in secret in Berlin was more of the nature of a raid than
a prolonged siege.
The German Field-Marshal sat alone and reflected. Had he been aware of
the true state of affairs he would certainly have had considerable cause
for alarm. True, though Lord Byfield had made such a magnificent stand,
considering the weakness of the force at his disposal, and London was
occupied, yet England, even now, was not conquered.
No news had leaked out from Bristol. Indeed, Parliament had taken every
precaution that its deliberations were in secret.
The truth, however, may be briefly related. On the previous day the
House had met at noon in the Colston Hall--a memorable sitting, indeed.
The Secretary of State for War had, after prayers, risen in the hall and
read an official despatch he had just received from Lord Byfield, giving
the news of the last stand made by the British north of Enfield, and the
utter hopelessness of the situation.
It was received by the assembled House in ominous silence.
During the past week through that great hall the Minister’s deep voice,
shaken by emotion, had been daily heard as he was compelled to report
defeat after defeat of the British arms. Both sides of the House had,
after the first few days, been forced to recognise Germany’s superiority
in numbers, in training, in organisation--in fact, in everything
appertaining to military power. Von Kronhelm’s strategy had been
perfect. He knew more of Eastern England than the British Commander
himself, and his marvellous system of spies and advance agents--Germans
who had lived for years in England--had assisted him forward, until he
had now occupied London, the city always declared to be impregnable.
Through the whole of September 20 the Minister constantly received
despatches from the British Field-Marshal and from London itself, yet
each telegram communicated to the House seemed more hopeless than its
predecessor.
The debate, however, proceeded through the afternoon. The Opposition
were bitterly attacking the Government and the Blue Water School for its
gross negligence in the past, and demanding to know the whereabouts of
the remnant of the British Navy. The First Lord of the Admiralty flatly
refused to make any statement. The whereabouts of our Navy at that
moment was, he said, a secret which must, at all hazards, be withheld
from our enemy. The Admiralty were not asleep, as the country believed,
but were fully alive to the seriousness of the crisis. He urged the
House to remain patient, saying that as soon as he dared make a clear
statement, he would do so.
This was greeted by loud jeers from the Opposition, from whose benches,
members, one after another, rose, and, using hard epithets, blamed the
Government for the terrible disaster. The cutting down of our defences,
the meagre naval programmes, the discouragement of the Volunteers and of
recruiting, and the disregard of Lord Roberts’ scheme in 1906 for
universal military training, were, they declared, responsible for what
had occurred. The Government had been culpably negligent, and Mr.
Haldane’s scheme had been all insufficient. Indeed, it had been nothing
short of criminal to mislead the Empire into a false sense of security
which did not exist.
For the past three years Germany, while sapping our industries, had sent
her spies into our midst, and laughed at us for our foolish insular
superiority. She had turned her attention from France to ourselves,
notwithstanding the _entente cordiale_. She remembered how the
much-talked-of Franco-Russian alliance had fallen to pieces, and relied
upon a similar outcome of the friendship between France and Great
Britain.
The aspect of the House, too, was strange; the Speaker in his robes
looked out of place in his big uncomfortable chair, and members sat on
cane-bottomed chairs instead of their comfortable benches at
Westminster. As far as possible the usual arrangement of the House was
adhered to, except that the Press were now excluded, official reports
being furnished to them at midnight.
The clerks’ table was a large plain one of stained wood, but upon it was
the usual array of despatch-boxes, while the Serjeant-at-Arms, in his
picturesque dress, was still one of the most prominent figures. The lack
of committee rooms, of an adequate lobby, and of a refreshment
department caused much inconvenience, though a temporary post and
telegraph office had been established within the building, and a
separate line connected the Prime Minister’s room with Downing Street.
If the Government were denounced in unmeasured terms, its defence was
equally vigorous. Thus, through that never-to-be-forgotten afternoon the
sitting continued past the dinner hour on to late in the evening.
Time after time the despatches from London were placed in the hands of
the War Minister, but, contrary to the expectation of the House, he
vouchsafed no further statement. It was noticed that just before ten
o’clock he consulted in an earnest undertone with the Prime Minister,
the First Lord of the Admiralty, and the Home Secretary, and that a
quarter of an hour later all four went out and were closeted in one of
the smaller rooms with other members of the Cabinet for nearly half an
hour.
Then the Secretary of State for War re-entered the House and resumed his
seat in silence.
A few minutes afterwards, Mr. Thomas Askern, member for one of the
metropolitan boroughs, and a well-known newspaper proprietor, who had
himself received several private despatches, rose and received leave to
put a question to the War Minister.
“I would like to ask the Right Honourable the Secretary of State for
War,” he said, “whether it is not a fact that soon after noon to-day the
enemy, having moved his heavy artillery to certain positions commanding
North London, and finding the capital strongly barricaded, proceeded to
bombard it? Whether that bombardment, according to the latest
despatches, is not still continuing at this moment; whether it is not a
fact that enormous damage has already been done to many of the principal
buildings of the metropolis, including the Government Offices at
Whitehall, and whether great loss of life has not been occasioned?”
The question produced the utmost sensation. The House during the whole
afternoon had been in breathless anxiety as to what was actually
happening in London; but the Government held the telegraphs and
telephone, and the only private despatches that had come to Bristol were
the two received by some roundabout route known only to the ingenious
journalists who had despatched them. Indeed, the despatches had been
conveyed the greater portion of the way by motor-car.
A complete silence fell. Every face was turned towards the War Minister,
who, seated with outstretched legs, was holding in his hand a fresh
despatch he had just received.
He rose, and, in his deep bass voice, said--
“In reply to the honourable member for South-East Brixton, the statement
he makes appears, from information which has just reached me, to be
correct. The Germans are, unfortunately, bombarding London. Von
Kronhelm, it is reported, is at Hampstead, and the zone of the enemy’s
artillery reaches, in some cases, as far south as the Thames itself. It
is true, as the honourable member asserts, an enormous amount of damage
has already been done to various buildings, and there has undoubtedly
been great loss of life. My latest information is that the non-combatant
inhabitants--old persons, women, and children--are in flight across the
Thames, and that the barricades in the principal roads leading in from
the north are held strongly by the armed populace, driven back into
London.”
He sat down without further word.
A tall, thin, white-moustached man rose at that moment from the
Opposition side of the House. Colonel Farquhar, late of the Royal
Marines, was a well-known military critic, and represented West Bude.
“And this,” he said, “is the only hope of England! The defence of London
by an armed mob, pitted against the most perfectly equipped and armed
force in the world! Londoners are patriotic, I grant. They will die
fighting for their homes, as every Englishman will when the moment
comes; yet, what can we hope, when patriotism is ranged against modern
military science? There surely is patriotism in the savage negro races
of Central Africa, a love of country perhaps as deep as in the white
man’s heart; yet a little strategy, a few Maxims, and all defence is
quickly at an end. And so it must inevitably be with London. I contend,
Mr. Speaker,” he went on, “that by the ill-advised action of the
Government from the first hour of their coming into power, we now find
ourselves conquered. It only remains for them now to make terms of peace
as honourable to themselves as the unfortunate circumstances will admit.
Let the country itself judge their actions in the light of events of
to-day, and let the blood of the poor murdered women and children of
London be upon their heads. (Shame.) To resist further is useless. Our
military organisation is in chaos, our miserably weak army is defeated,
and in flight. I declare to this House that we should sue at this very
moment for peace--a dishonourable peace though it be; but the bitter
truth is too plain--England is conquered!”
As he sat down amid the “hear, hears” and loud applause of the
Opposition there rose a keen-faced, dark-haired, clean-shaven man of
thirty-seven or so. He was Gerald Graham, younger son of an aristocratic
house, the Yorkshire Grahams, who sat for North-East Rutland. He was a
man of brilliant attainments at Oxford, a splendid orator, a
distinguished writer and traveller, whose keen brown eye, lithe upright
figure, quick activity, and smart appearance rendered him a born leader
of men. For the past five years he had been marked out as a “coming
man.”
As a soldier he had seen hard service in the Boer War, being mentioned
twice in despatches; as an explorer he had led a party through the heart
of the Congo and fought his way back to civilisation through an
unexplored land with valiant bravery that had saved the lives of his
companions. He was a man who never sought notoriety. He hated to be
lionised in society, refused the shoals of cards of invitation which
poured in upon him, and stuck to his Parliamentary duties, and keeping
faith with his constituents to the very letter.
As he stood up silent for a moment, gazing around him fearlessly, he
presented a striking figure, and in his navy serge suit he possessed the
unmistakable cut of the smart, well-groomed Englishman who was also a
man of note.
The House always listened to him, for he never spoke without he had
something of importance to say. And the instant he was up a silence
fell.
“Mr. Speaker,” he said, in a clear, ringing voice, “I entirely disagree
with my honourable friend the member for West Bude. England is not
conquered! She is not beaten!”
The great hall rang with loud and vociferous cheers from both sides of
the House. Then, when quiet was restored by the Speaker’s stentorian
“Order-r-r! Order!” he continued--
“London may be invested and bombarded. She may even be sacked, but
Englishmen will still fight for their homes, and fight valiantly. If we
have a demand for indemnity, let us refuse to pay it. Let us
civilians--let the civilians in every corner of England--arm themselves
and unite to drive out the invader! (Loud cheers.) I contend, Mr.
Speaker, that there are millions of able-bodied men in this country who,
if properly organised, will be able to gradually exterminate the enemy.
Organisation is all that is required. Our vast population will rise
against the Germans, and before the tide of popular indignation and
desperate resistance the power of the invader must soon be swept away.
Do not let us sit calmly here in security, and acknowledge that we are
beaten. Remember, we have at this moment to uphold the ancient tradition
of the British race, the honour of our forefathers, who have never been
conquered. Shall we acknowledge ourselves conquered in this the
twentieth century?”
“No!” rose from hundreds of voices, for the House was now carried away
by young Graham’s enthusiasm.
“Then let us organise!” he urged. “Let us fight on. Let every man who
can use a sword or gun come forward, and we will commence hostilities
against the Kaiser’s forces that shall either result in their total
extermination or in the power of England being extinguished. Englishmen
will die hard. I myself will, with the consent of this House, head the
movement, for I know that in the country we have millions who will
follow me and will be equally ready to die for our country if necessary.
Let us withdraw this statement that we are conquered. The real, earnest
fight is now to commence,” he shouted, his voice ringing clearly through
the hall. “Let us bear our part, each one of us. If we organise and
unite, we shall drive the Kaiser’s hordes into the sea. They shall sue
us for peace, and be made to pay us an indemnity, instead of us paying
one to them. I will lead!” he shouted; “who will follow me?”
In London the Lord Mayor’s patriotic proclamations were now obliterated
by a huge bill bearing the German Imperial arms, the text of which told
its own grim tale. It is reproduced on next page, and at its side was
printed a translation in German text.
In the meantime the news of the fall of London was being circulated by
the Germans to every town throughout the kingdom, their despatches being
embellished by lurid descriptions of the appalling losses inflicted upon
the English. In Manchester, a great poster, headed by the German
Imperial arms, was posted up on the Town Hall, the Exchange, and other
places, in which Von Kronhelm announced the occupation of London; while
in Leeds, Bradford, Stockport, and Sheffield, similarly worded official
announcements were also posted. The Press in all towns occupied by the
Germans had been suppressed, papers only appearing in order to publish
the enemy’s orders. Therefore, this official intelligence was circulated
by proclamation, calculated to impress upon the inhabitants of the
country how utterly powerless they were.
While Von Kronhelm sat in that large sombre room in the War Office, with
his telegraph instrument to Potsdam ever ticking, and the wireless
telegraphy constantly in operation, he wondered, and still wondered, why
the English made no response to his demands. He was in London. He had
carried out his Emperor’s instructions to the letter, he had received
the Imperial thanks, and he held all the gold coin he could discover in
London as security. Yet, without some reply from the British Government,
his position was an insecure one. Even his thousand and one spies who
had served him so well ever since he had placed foot upon English soil
could tell him nothing. The deliberations of the House of Commons at
Bristol were a secret.
In Bristol the hot, fevered night had given place to a gloriously sunny
morning, with a blue and cloudless
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| [Illustration] |
| |
| =NOTICE AND ADVICE.= |
| |
| =TO THE CITIZENS OF LONDON.= |
| |
| |
| I ADDRESS YOU SERIOUSLY. |
| |
| We are neighbours, and in time of peace cordial relations have always |
| existed between us. I therefore address you from my heart in the cause |
| of humanity. |
| |
| Germany is at war with England. We have been forced to penetrate |
| into your country. |
| |
| But each human life spared, and all property saved, we regard as in the |
| interests of both religion and humanity. |
| |
| We are at war, and both sides have fought a loyal fight. |
| |
| Our desire is, however, to spare disarmed citizens and the inhabitants |
| of all towns and villages. |
| |
| We maintain a severe discipline, and we wish to have it known that |
| punishment of the severest character will be inflicted upon any who are |
| guilty of hostility to the Imperial German arms, either open or in |
| secret. |
| |
| To our regret any incitements, cruelties, or brutalities we must judge |
| with equal severity. |
| |
| I therefore call upon all local mayors, magistrates, clergy, and |
| schoolmasters to urge upon the populace, and upon the heads of families, |
| to urge upon those under their protection, and upon their domestics, to |
| refrain from committing any act of hostility whatsoever against my |
| soldiers. |
| |
| All misery avoided is a good work in the eye of our Sovereign Judge, |
| who sees all men. |
| |
| I earnestly urge you to heed this advice, and I trust in you. |
| |
| Take notice! |
| |
| =VON KRONHELM,= |
| =Commanding the Imperial German Army.= |
| |
| German Military Headquarters, |
| Whitehall, London, _September 20, 1910_. |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
sky. Above Leigh Woods the lark rose high in the sky, trilling his song,
and the bells of Bristol rang out as merrily as they ever did, and above
the Colston Hall still floated the Royal Standard--a sign that the House
had not yet adjourned.
While Von Kronhelm held London, Lord Byfield and the remnant of the
British Army, who had suffered such defeat in Essex and north of London,
had, four days later, retreated to Chichester and Salisbury, where
reorganisation was in rapid progress. One division of the defeated
troops had encamped at Horsham. The survivors of those who had fought
the battle of Charnwood Forest, and had acted so gallantly in the
defence of Birmingham, were now encamped on the Malvern Hills, while the
defenders of Manchester were at Shrewsbury. Speaking roughly, therefore,
our vanquished troops were massing at four points, in an endeavour to
make a last attack upon the invader. The Commander-in-Chief, Lord
Byfield, was near Salisbury, and at any hour he knew that the German
legions might push westward from London to meet him and to complete the
_coup_.
The League of Defenders formed by Gerald Graham and his friends was,
however, working independently. The wealthier classes, who, driven out
of London, were now living in cottages and tents in various parts of
Berks, Wilts, and Hants, worked unceasingly on behalf of the League,
while into Plymouth, Exmouth, Swanage, Bristol, and Southampton more
than one ship had already managed to enter laden with arms and
ammunition of all kinds, sent across by the agents of the League in
France. The cargoes were of a very miscellaneous character, from modern
Maxims to old-fashioned rifles that had seen service in the war of 1870.
There were hundreds of modern rifles, sporting guns, revolvers,
swords--in fact, every weapon imaginable, modern and old-fashioned.
These were at once taken charge of by the local branches of the League,
and to those men who presented their tickets of identification the arms
were served out, and practice conducted in the open fields. Three
shiploads of rifles were known to have been captured by German warships,
one off Start Point, another a few miles outside Padstow, and a third
within sight of the coastguard at Selsey Bill. Two other ships were
blown up in the Channel by drifting mines. The running of arms across
from France and Spain was a very risky proceeding; yet the British
skipper is nothing if not patriotic, and every man who crossed the
Channel on those dangerous errands took his life in his hand.
Into Liverpool, Whitehaven, and Milford weapons were also coming over
from Ireland, even though several German cruisers, who had been up at
Lamlash to cripple the Glasgow trade, had now come south, and were
believed still to be in the Irish Sea.
CHAPTER IX
WHAT WAS HAPPENING AT SEA
Our fleet, however, was not inactive. The Germans had mined the Straits
of Dover, and one of the turbine Channel steamers had been sunk with
great loss of life. They had bombarded Brighton, mined Portsmouth, and
made a raid on the South Wales coal ports.
How these raiders were pursued is best described in the official history
of the invasion, as follows:--
The Trevose wireless station signalled that the Germans were off Lundy
about 2 p.m., steaming west with fourteen ships of all kinds, some
moving very slowly. The _Lion_ and _Kincardineshire_ at once altered
course to the north, so as to intercept them and draw across their line
of retreat. At the same time they learnt that two British protected
cruisers had arrived from Devonport off the Longships, and were holding
the entrance to the English Channel, and moving slowly north behind
them.
About 3.30 the wireless waves came in so strongly from the north-east
that the captain of the _Lion_, who was in charge of the cruiser
division, became certain of the proximity of the German force. The
signals could not be interpreted, as they were tuned on a different
system from the British. The Germans must have also felt the British
signals, since about this time they divided, the three fast liners
increasing speed and heading west, while the rest of the detachment
steered north-west. The older German vessels were delayed some fifteen
minutes by the work of destroying the four colliers, which they had
carried off forcibly with them from Cardiff, and removing their crews.
Delay at such a moment was most dangerous.
Soon after 3.45 p.m. the lookout on board the _Lion_ reported from the
masthead, smoke on the horizon right ahead. The _Lion’s_ head was set
towards the smoke, which could be only faintly seen, and her speed was
increased to twenty-one knots. The _Kincardineshire_ altered course
simultaneously--she was ten miles away on the port beam of the _Lion_,
and in constant communication by wireless with the _Selkirk_, which was
still farther out. Ten minutes later the _Selkirk_ signalled that she
saw smoke, and that with the ten destroyers accompanying her she was
steering towards it. Her message added that the Irish Sea destroyers
were in sight, coming in very fast from the north, nine strong, with
intervals of two miles between each boat, still keeping their speed of
thirty knots.
The cordon was now complete, and the whole force of twenty-two cruisers
and torpedo craft turned in towards the spot where the enemy was
located. At 4.5 the lookout on the _Lion_ reported a second cloud of
smoke on the horizon, rather more to starboard than the one first seen,
which had been for some minutes steadily moving west. This second cloud
was moving very slowly north-westwards.
The captain of the _Lion_ determined to proceed with his own ship
towards this second cloud, and directed the _Kincardineshire_, which was
slightly the faster cruiser, to follow the movements of the first-seen
smoke and support the _Selkirk_ in attacking the ships from which it
proceeded.
The enemy’s fleet soon came into view several miles away. Three large
steamers were racing off towards the Atlantic and the west; seven
smaller ships were steaming slowly north-west. In the path of the three
big liners were drawn up the _Selkirk_ and the ten destroyers of the
Devonport flotilla, formed in line abreast, with intervals of two miles
between each vessel, so as to cover as wide an extent of sea as
possible. The _Kincardineshire_ was heading fast to support the
_Selkirk_ and attack the three large German ships. Farther to the north,
but as yet invisible to the _Lion_, and right in the path of the
squadron of old German ships, were nine destroyers of the Irish Sea
flotilla, vessels each of 800 tons and thirty-three knots, also drawn up
in line abreast, with intervals of two miles to cover a wide stretch of
water.
The moment the Germans came into view the two protected cruisers at
Land’s End were called up by wireless telegraphy, and ordered to steam
at nineteen knots towards the _Selkirk_. The two Devonport battleships,
which had now reached Land’s End, were warned of the presence of the
enemy.
Sighting the ten Devonport destroyers and the _Selkirk_ to the west of
them, the three fast German liners, which were the _Deutschland_,
_Kaiser Wilhelm II._, and _Kronprinz Wilhelm_, all three good for
twenty-three knots in any weather, made a rush for the gap between the
Devonport destroyers and the _Kincardineshire_. Perceiving their
intention, the _Kincardineshire_ turned to cut them off, and the ten
destroyers and the _Selkirk_ headed to engage them. In danger of all
being brought to action and destroyed if they kept together, the German
liners scattered at 4.15: the _Deutschland_ steered south-east to pass
between the _Kincardineshire_ and the _Lion_; the _Kaiser Wilhelm_
steered boldly for a destroyer which was closing in on her from the
starboard bow; and the _Kronprinz Wilhelm_ ran due north.
The _Deutschland_, racing along at a tremendous speed, passed between
the _Kincardineshire_ and the _Lion_. The _Lion_ at long range put three
9.2-inch shells into her without stopping her; the _Kincardineshire_
gave her a broadside from her 6-inch guns at about 5000 yards, and hit
her several times. But the British fire did not bring her to, and she
went off to the south-west at a great pace, going so fast that it was
clear the armoured cruisers would stand little chance of overhauling
her.
The _Kaiser Wilhelm_ charged through the line of destroyers, receiving a
heavy fire from the 6-inch weapons of the _Selkirk_ and
_Kincardineshire_, and in her turn pouring a rapid fire upon two of the
Devonport destroyers, which attempted to torpedo her, and missed her at
about 900 yards. The _Selkirk_, however, was close astern of her, and
with her engines going twenty-three knots, which was just a fraction
less than what the German engineers were doing, concentrated upon her a
very heavy fire from all her 6-inch guns that would bear.
The fore-turret with its two 6-inch weapons in two minutes put twenty
shells into the German stern. One of these projectiles must have hit the
steering gear, for suddenly and unexpectedly the _Kaiser Wilhelm_ came
round on a wide circle, and as she wheeled, the broadside of the British
cruiser came into action with a loud crash, and at 3000 yards rained
100-lb. and 12-lb. shells upon the liner. The beating of the pom-poms in
the _Selkirk_ could be heard above the roar of the cannonade; and seeing
that the liner was now doomed, the British destroyers drew off a little.
Under the storm of shells the German crew could not get the steering
gear in working order. The great ship was still turning round and round
in a gigantic circle, when the _Lion_ came into action with her two
9·2’s and her broadside of eight 6-inch weapons. Round after round from
these was poured into the German ship. The British gunners shot for the
water-line, and got it repeatedly. At 4.40, after a twenty minutes’
fight, the white flag went up on board the _Kaiser Wilhelm_, and it was
seen that she was sinking. Her engines had stopped, she was on fire in
twenty places, and her decks were covered with the dying and the dead.
The first of the raiders was accounted for.
Meantime, the _Kronprinz Wilhelm_ had with equal swiftness dashed north,
receiving only a few shots from the _Selkirk_, as she passed her, 8000
yards away. The British armoured cruiser _Kincardineshire_ followed in
the German ship’s wake ten miles astern and quite out of range. The
German liner was seen by the ocean-going destroyers of the Irish Sea
flotilla, which headed after her, and four of them going thirty knots
easily drew ahead of her. To attack such a vessel with the torpedo was
an undertaking which had no promise of success.
The British destroyer officers, however, were equal to the occasion.
They employed skilful tactics to effect their object. The four big
destroyers took station right ahead of the German ship and about 1500
yards away from her. In this direction none of her guns would bear. From
this position they opened on her bows with their sternmost 13-pounders,
seeking to damage the bow of the _Kronprinz Wilhelm_, breach the forward
compartments, and so delay the ship. If she turned or yawed, her turn
must give time for the _Kincardineshire_ to get at her.