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!
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