The Invasion of 1910

LOOTING, HOUSEBREAKING, ANDOTHER 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(2) That from this date all magistrates at the Metropolitan Police Courts will be superseded by military officers empowered to deal and adjudicate upon all offences in contravention to law.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 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.