| Journalist: There were a dozen dead bodies in the Euston road, their bodies
|
| softened by the black dust. |
| All was still, houses locked and empty,
|
| shops closed but looters had helped themselves to wine and food,
|
| and outside a jewellers some gold chains and a watch were scattered on the
|
| pavement.
|
| Martians: Ulla!
|
| Journalist: I stopped, staring toward to sound. |
| It seemed as if that mighty
|
| desert of house had found a voice for its fear and solitude.
|
| Martians: Ulla!
|
| Journalist: The desolating cry worked upon my mind. |
| The wailing took possession
|
| of me. |
| I was intensely weary, footsore, hungry and thirsty. |
| Why was I wandering
|
| alone in this city of the dead? |
| Why was I alive, when London in state in its
|
| black shroud? |
| I felt intolerably lonely, drifting from street to empty street,
|
| drawn inexorably towards that cry.
|
| Martians: Ulla!
|
| Journalist: I saw, over the trees on Primrose hill, the fighting machine from
|
| which the howling came. |
| I crossed Regents Canal. |
| There stood a second machine,
|
| upright, but as still as the first.
|
| Martians: Ulla! |
| Ul-!
|
| Journalist: Abruptly, the sound ceased. |
| Suddenly, the desolation, the solitude,
|
| became unendurable. |
| While that voice sounded, London had still seemed alive.
|
| Now, suddenly, there was a change, the passing of something and all that
|
| remained was this gaunt quite.
|
| I looked up and saw a third machine. |
| It was erect and motionless,
|
| like the others. |
| An inane resolve possessed me. |
| I would give my life to the
|
| Martians, here and now. |
| I marched recklessly towards the titan and saw a multitude of black birds was circling and clustering about the hood.
|
| I began running along the road, I felt no fear, only a wild trembling
|
| exultation, as I ran up the hill towards the motionless monster.
|
| Out of the hood hung red shreds, at which the hungry birds now pecked and tore.
|
| I scrambled up to the crest of Primrose Hill, and the Martians camp was below
|
| me. |
| A mighty space it was, and scattered about it, in their overturned machines,
|
| were the Martians — dead… slain, after all man’s devices had failed,
|
| by the humblest things upon the Earth, Bacteria. |
| Minute, invisible bacteria!
|
| Directly the invaders arrived and drank and fed, our microscopic allies
|
| attacked them. |
| From that moment they were doomed! |