The Invasion of 1910

“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.