JOURNALIST: No one would have believed, in the last years of the
nineteenth century, that human affairs were being watched from the timeless worlds
of s___e.

No one could have dreamed we were being scrutinized, as someone with a microscope
studies creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. Few men even considered
the possibility of life on other planets and yet, across the gulf of s___e, minds
immeasurably superior to ours regarded this Earth with envious eyes, and slowly and
surely, they drew their plans against us.

At midnight on the twelfth of August, a huge mass of luminous gas erupted from Mars
and sped towards Earth. Across two hundred million miles of void, invisibly hurtling
towards us, came the first of the missiles that were to bring so much calamity to Earth.
As I watched, there was another jet of gas. It was another missile, starting on its way.

And that's how it was for the next ten nights. A flare, spurting out from Mars - bright
green, drawing a green mist behind it - a beautiful, but somehow disturbing sight. Ogilvy,
the astronomer, a__ured me we were in no danger. He was convinced there could be no
living thing on that remote, forbidding planet.

"The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one," he said.
"The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one - but still they
come!"

JOURNALIST: Then came the night the first missile approached Earth. It was thought
to be an ordinary falling star, but next day there was a huge crater in the middle of the
Common, and Ogilvy came to examine what lay there: a cylinder, thirty yards across,
glowing hot... and with faint sounds of movement coming from within.

Suddenly the top began moving, rotating, unscrewing, and Ogilvy feared there was a
man inside, trying to escape. he rushed to the cylinder, but the intense heat stopped him
before he could burn himself on the metal.

"The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one," he said.
"The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one - but they still
come!"
"Yes, the chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one," he said.
"The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one - but they still come!"

It seems totally incredible to me now that everyone spent that evening as
though it were just like any other. From the railway station came the sound of
shunting trains, ringing and rumbling, softened almost into melody by the distance. It all
seemed so safe and tranquil.

JOURNALIST: Next morning, a crowd gathered on the Common,
hypnotized by the unscrewing of the cylinder. Two feet of shining screw projected
when, suddenly, the lid fell off!

Two luminous disc-like eyes appeared above the rim. A huge, rounded bulk, larger than
a bear, rose up slowly, glistening like wet leather. Its lipless mouth quivered and slavered
- and snake-like tentacles writhed as the clumsy body heaved and pulsated.

A few young men crept closer to the pit. A tall funnel rose, then an invisible ray of heat
leapt from man to man and there was a bright glare, as each was instantly turned to fire.
Every tree and bush became a mass of flames at the touch of this savage, unearthly
Heat Ray.

People clawed their way off the Common, and I ran too. I felt I was being toyed with,
that when I was on the very verge of safety, this mysterious death would leap after me
and strike me down. At last I reached Maybury Hill and in the dim coolness of my home
I wrote an account for my newspaper before I sank into a restless, haunted sleep.

I awoke to alien sounds of hammering from the pit, and hurried to the railway station to
buy the paper.

Around me, the daily routine of life - working, eating, sleeping - was continuing serenely
as it had for countless years.

On Horsell Common, the Martians continued hammering and stirring,
sleepless, indefatigable, at work upon the machines they were making. Now and
again a light, like the beam of a warship's searchlight, swept the Common - and the Heat
Ray was ready to follow. In the afternoon, a company of soldiers came through and
deployed along the edge of the Common, to form a cordon.

That evening, there was a violent crash and I realized with horror that my home was
now within range of the Martian's Heat Ray. At dawn, a falling star with a trail of green
mist landed with a flash like summer lightning.

This was the second cylinder.

JOURNALIST: The hammering from the pit and the pounding of guns grew
louder. My fear rose at the sound of someone creeping into the house. Then I saw it
was a young artilleryman, weary, streaked with blood and dirt.

ARTILLERYMAN: Anyone here?

JOURNALIST: Come in. Here - drink this.

ARTILLERYMAN: Thank you.

JOURNALIST: What's happened?

ARTILLERYMAN: They wiped us out. Hundreds dead - maybe thousands.

JOURNALIST: The Heat Ray.

ARTILLERYMAN: The Martians! They were inside the hoods of the machines they'd
made - massive metal things on legs! Giant machines that walked - they attacked us!
They wiped us out!

JOURNALIST: Machines?

ARTILLERYMAN: Fighting Machines! Picking up men and bashing 'em against trees.
Just hunks of metal, but they knew exactly what they were doing.

JOURNALIST: Mmm. There was another cylinder came last night.

ARTILLERYMAN: Yes. it looked bound for London.

JOURNALIST: London! Carrie! I hadn't dreamed there could be danger to Carrie and
her father, so many miles away. I must go to London at once.

ARTILLERYMAN: And me. Got to report to Headquarters - if there's anything left of
it.

JOURNALIST: At Byfleet we came upon an Inn, but it was deserted.

ARTILLERYMAN: Is everybody dead?

JOURNALIST: Not everybody. Look! Six cannons with gunners standing by.

ARTILLERYMAN: It's bows and arrows against the lightning. They haven't seen the
Heat Ray yet.

JOURNALIST: We hurried along the road to Weybridge. Suddenly, there was a heavy
explosion. The ground heaved, windows shattered and gusts of smoke erupted into the
air.

ARTILLERYMAN: Look! There they are! What did I tell you?

JOURNALIST: Quickly, one after the other, four of the Fighting Machines appeared.
Monstrous tripods, higher than the tallest steeple, striding over the pine trees and
smashing them. Walking engines of glittering metal. Each carried a huge funnel and I
realized with horror that I'd seen this awful thing before.

A fifth Machine appeared on the far bank. It raised itself to full height, flourished the
funnel high in the air - and the ghostly, terrible Heat Ray struck the town.

JOURNALIST: As it struck, all five Fighting Machines exulted, emitting deafening howls
which roared like thunder.

MARTIANS: Ulla! Ulla!

JOURNALIST: The six guns we had seen now fired simultaneously,
decapitating a Fighting Machine. The Martian inside the hood was slain, splashed to
the four winds, and the body, nothing now but an intricate device of metal, went
whirling to destruction. As the other Monsters advanced, people ran away blindly, the
Artilleryman among them, but I jumped into the water and hid until forced up to
breathe. Now the guns spoke again, but this time the Heat Ray sent them to oblivion.

MARTIANS: Ulla!

JOURNALIST: With a white flash, the Heat Ray swept across the river. Scalded, half-
blinded and agonized, I staggered through leaping, hissing water towards the shore. I fell
helplessly, in full sight of the Martians, expecting nothing but death. The foot of a
Fighting Machine came down close to my head, then lifted again, as the four Martians
carried away the debris of their fallen comrade... and I realized that by a miracle , I had
escaped.

MARTIANS: Ulla! Ulla! Ulla!

CHILD

JOURNALIST: For three days I fought my way along roads packed with
refugees, the homeless, burdened with boxes and bundles containing their valuables.
All that was of value to me was in London, but by the time I reached their little
red-brick house, Carrie and her father were gone.

FOREVER AUTUMN

The summer sun is fading as the year grows old
And darker days are drawing near
The winter winds will be much colder
Now you're not here.

I watch the birds fly south across the autumn sky
And one by one they disappear

I wish that I was flying with them
Now you're not here.

Like the sun through the tres you came to love me

Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away

Through autumn's golden gown we used to kick our way
You always loved this time of year
Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed now
'cause you're not here
'cause you're not here
'cause you're not here

JOURNALIST: Fire suddenly leapt from house to house, the population panicked and
ran - and I was swept along with them, aimless and lost without Carrie. Finally, I headed
Eastward for the ocean, and my only hope of survival - a boat out of England.

Like the sun through the trees you came to love me
Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away

A gentle rain falls softly on my weary eyes

As if to hide a lonely tear
My lift will be Forever Autumn
'cause you're not here
'cause you're not here
'cause you're not here

JOURNALIST: As I hastened through Covent Garden, Blackfriars and Billingsgate,
more and more people joined the painful exodus. Sad, weary women, their children
stumbling and streaked with tears, their men bitter and angry, the rich rubbing shoulders
with beggars and outcasts. Dogs snarled and whined, the horses' bits were covered with
foam... and here and there were wounded soldiers, as helpless as the rest.

We saw tripods wading up the Thames, cutting through bridges as though
they were paper - Waterloo Bridge, Westminster Bridge... One appeared above Big
Ben.

MARTIANS: Ulla!

JOURNALIST: Never before in the history of the world had such a mass of
human beings moved and suffered together. This was no disciplined march - it was a
stampede - without order and without a goal, six million people unarmed and
unprovisioned, driving headlong. It was the beginning of the rout of civilization, of the
massacre of mankind.

A vast crowd buffeted me towards the already packed steamer. I looked up enviously at
those safely on board - straight into the eyes of my beloved Carrie! At sight of me she
began to fight her way along the packed deck to the gangplank. At that very moment it
was raised, and I caught a last glimpse of her despairing face as the crowd swept me
away from her.

Like the sun through the trees you came to love me
Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away.

Through autumn's golden gown we used to kick our way

You always loved this time of year
Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed now
'cause you're not here
'cause you're not here
'cause you're not here

MARTIANS: Ulla!

JOURNALIST: The steamer began to move slowly away - but on the landward horizon
appeared the silhouette of a Fighting Machine. Another came, and another, striding over
hills and trees, plunging far out to sea and blocking the exit of the steamer. Between
them lay the silent, grey Ironclad 'Thunder Child'. Slowly it moved towards shore; then,
with a deafening roar and whoosh of spray, it swung about and drove at full speed
towards the waiting Martians.

PEOPLE: There were ships of shapes and sizes
Scattered out along the bay
And I thought I heard her calling
As the steamer pulled away
The Invaders must have seen them
As across the coast they filed
Standing firm between them
There lay Thunder Child

Moving swiftly through the waters
Cannons blazing as she came
Brought a mighty metal War-Lord
Crashing down in sheets of flame
Sensing victory was nearing
Thinking fortune must have smiled
People started cheering
'Come on Thunder Child'
'Come on Thunder Child'

JOURNALIST: The Martians released their Black Smoke, but the ship sped on, cutting
down one of the tripod figures. Instantly, the others raised their Heat Rays and melted
the Thunder Child's valiant heart.

PEOPLE: Lashing ropes and smashing timbers
Flashing Heat Rays pierced the deck
Dashing hopes for our deliverance
As we watched the sinking wreck
With the smoke of battle clearing
Over graves in waves defiled
Slowly disappearing
Farewell Thunder Child!
Slowly disappearing
Farewell Thunder Child!
Farewell Thunder Child!
Farewell Thunder Child!

JOURNALIST: When the smoke cleared, the little steamer had reached the
misty horizon, and Carrie was safe. But the Thunder Child had vanished forever,
taking with her man's last hope of victory. The leaden sky was lit by green flashes,
cylinder following cylinder, and no one and nothing was left now to fight them. The
Earth belonged to the Martians.

MARTIANS: Ulla!

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