The End of the War

No one would have believed in the opening year of the twentieth century that the war against the Martian invaders could have ended. Few men even considered the possibility that the British Empire, almost brought to its knees a few short years earlier, could rally so magnificently. Some had expressed the hope that the invaders might have been felled by a weakness to common bacteria, but somehow they had anticipated such things when they drew their plans against us.

I remembered well the night that the first cylinder had fallen to Earth, two and a half years previously. By good fortune that initial attack was repelled by a company of artilleymen and the subsequent cylinders had changed their course to land in the Scottish highlands where they set to subjugating the population and constructing their monstrous fighting machines. We were not idle either, and used the brief respite to construct a defensive line stretching from Northumberland to Whitby on the east coast. The Martians launched numerous attacks with ever more powerful weapons but against the odds our line held.

Over the course of the following years, the formerly green and pleasant land was transformed into an industrial hell – oil wells were sunk in the south west, coal mines were dug and steel works were constructed in the heart of the English countryside. Technicians designed fighting machines of our own – self propelled artillery pieces and track laying vehicles (designated with the soubriquet of ‘tanks’). We researched better armour and improvements to munitions technology and fortified our defensive line with gun emplacements and fields of razor sharp barbed wire. Most importantly of all, work began on construction of the mighty ironclad ships that could shell Martian bases from the safety of the deep water.

At last, the push north began. We were horrified at the transformation we saw – roads and waterways choked by a hideous red weed, the proud city of Edinburgh reduced to ruins and monstrous farms where the few remaining men, women and children were harvested for their blood for some foul purpose.

Our resolve was set. The final assault into the Martian stronghold in the Grampian Mountains began, led by a column of our finest artillery pieces to tear apart the earthworks and heat rays that surrounded their control centre. We lost fully two thirds of our forces before the base fell, taking the remaining defenders with it to their destruction.

We were victorious, but at what cost? The British empire was now a forgotten glory as all of our efforts had been thrown into the war on our own soil. Would the world even remember our sacrifice should the invaders attack again when another century was done?

Finally, I could not help but wonder what might have happened if I had been in charge of the Martian forces? A determined lightning assault might have seen fighting machines at the gates of Downing Street before we were able to resist. It could all have been so different …

After a little tinkering, I managed to get the ‘War of the Worlds’ PC game running on my laptop. It’s a fantastic mix of real time battles and strategic planning across the map of the British Isles with the option to play as either side over an extended campaign. The music and graphics, even for an old game, are well done and are all based on the well known concept album by Jeff Wayne. Worth buying, if you happen to enjoy strategy games or maybe just want to grind humanity under the feet of a Martian tripod …