“I had watched the first flash of the after-glow beyond Blackfriars Bridge every morning for the past ten days. I had breathed the fresh air, unsullied by smoke, and had admired the beauty of the outlines of riverside London in those early hours. I had sat and watched the faint rose turn to purple, to grey, and then to the glorious yellow sunrise. Yes. I had seen some of the most glorious sunrises on the river that I have ever witnessed. But should I ever see another?
“Dusk crept on, and deepened into night—the most momentous night in all the history of our giant city. The fate of London—nay, the fate of the greatest Empire the world has ever seen, was to be decided! And about me in groups waited my comrades with fierce, determined faces, looking to their weapons and gossiping the while. Each of us had brought out our precious little badge and pinned it to our breasts. With the Union Jack upon us we were to fight for country and for King.
“Away, across, upon a ruined wall of Somerset House the German standard floated defiantly; but one and all of us swore that ere the night was past it should be pulled down, and our flag—the flag of St. George of England, which flapped lazily above our barricades—should replace it.
“Night fell—a hot, fevered night, breathless and ominous of the storm to come. Before us, across the Thames, lay London, wrecked, broken, but not yet conquered. In an hour its streets would become, we knew, a perfect hell of shot and shell. The oil lamps in Wellington Street, opposite Somerset House, threw a weird light upon the enemy’s counter-barricade, and we could distinctly see Germans moving, preparing for a defence of their position, should we dare to cross the bridge. While we waited three of our gallant fellows, taking their lives in their hands, put off in a boat and were now examining the bridge beneath to ascertain whether the enemy had imitated our action in placing mines. They might have attached them where the scaffold was erected on the Middlesex side, that spot which had been attacked by German spies on the night of the bombardment. We were in a position to blow up the bridge at any moment; but we wanted to ascertain if the enemy were prepared to do likewise.
“Minutes seemed like hours as we waited impatiently for the appointed moment. It was evident that Von Kronhelm feared to make further arrests, now that London was flooded by those red handbills. He would, no doubt, require all his troops to keep us in check. On entering London the enemy had believed the war to be over, but the real struggle is only now commencing.
“At last the low boom of a gun sounded from the direction of Westminster. We looked at our watches, and found that it was just ten o’clock. Next moment our bugle sounded, and we sprang to our positions, as we had done dozens, nay, hundreds, of times before. I felt faint, for I had only had half a pint of weak soup all day, for the bread did not go round. Nevertheless the knowledge that we were about to strike the blow inspired me with fresh life and strength. Our officer shouted a brief word of command, and next moment we opened a withering fire upon the enemy’s barricade in Wellington Street.
“In a moment a hundred rifles and several Maxims spat their red fire at us, but as usual the bullets flattened themselves harmlessly before us. Then the battery of artillery which Sir Francis Bamford had sent us three days before, got into position, and in a few moments began hurling great shells upon the German defences. We watched, and cheered loudly as the effect of our fire became apparent.
“Behind us was a great armed multitude ready and eager to get at the foe, a huge, unorganised body of fierce, irate Londoners, determined upon having blood for blood. From over the river the sound of battle was rising, a great roaring like the sound of a distant sea, with ever and anon the crackling of rifles and the boom of guns, while above the night sky grew a dark blood-red with the glare of a distant conflagration.
“For half an hour we pounded away at the barricade in Wellington Street with our siege guns, Maxims, and rifles, until a well-directed shell exploded beneath the centre of the obstruction, blowing open a great gap and sending fragments high into the air. Then it seemed that all resistance suddenly ceased. At first we were surprised at this; but on further scrutiny we found that it was not our fire that had routed the enemy, but that they were being attacked in their rear by hosts of armed citizens surging down from Kingsway and the Strand.
“We could plainly discern that the Germans were fighting for their lives. Into the midst of them we sent one or two shells; but fearing to cause casualties among our own comrades, we were compelled to cease firing.