Black government wagons in The War of the Worlds

This article appeared in Fortean Times, FT

EVER SINCE Albert K. Bender first described his own and other ufologists' encounters with "Men In Black" (MIBs) from 1952 onwards (first documented in Gray Barker's 1956 They Knew Too Much About Flying Saucers,) the MIBs have reportedly driven around in shiny, new black cars – often Cadillacs – in their efforts to intimidate and silence UFO witnesses.

The cars the Men In Black arrive in are even said to smell new. Investigators report their attempts to trace such vehicles from their licence plates reveal no such registration exists. These strange black vehicles were hard-wired in MIB mythology from the beginning. Much has been written about how sci-fi imagery prefigures tropes within ufology, while Jenny Randles (FT 447;29) has written recently on how secret experimental military tech and Cold War anxieties affected the UFO phenomenon. I have spotted a turn-of-the twentieth century precursor to the shiny, new black cars used to convey the MIBs, from the dawn of science fiction when the genre was still known as "scientific romance."

There's a scene in Book 1 Chapter 12 of H.G. Wells's The War of the Worlds (TWotW, 1895-1897) – a chapter entitled "What I saw of the destruction of Weybridge and Shepperton." The narrator witnesses "Three or four black government wagons, with crosses in white circles, and an old omnibus, among other vehicles, were being loaded in the village street."

Could the "black government wagons" – noticeable and identifiable, needing no further explanation to the readers of 1897 – have wormed their way into the collective sub-conscious to give rise to MIB lore? And what could the "black government wagons" have been, at a time when "government" was much smaller than it is now.

Illustration by Warren Globe from the original edition of The War of the Worlds, serialised in Pearson magazine. Out of copyright.
Horse-drawn black police wagons to haul away detainees were a thing as early as the 1860s, with engravings from the Illustrated Police News and other publications showing Fenians attempting to hijack such vehicles and rescue condemned prisoners. But such incidents were three decades before TWotW, first serialised in 1897 by Pearson magazine before publication as a book soon after, with the action taking place starting on a then near-future New Year's Eve 1899. Surviving photos or illustrations of dark-coloured police wagons in the late 1890s seem rare.

And anyway, they were black government wagons, not police wagons in TWotW. They don't seem to have been ambulances either – surely had they been ambulances they would have been described as having red crosses on them. Alan Moore and Kevin O'Niell, in their 2003 The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Volume II graphic novel retelling of TWotW portray the Extraordinary Gentlemen themselves emerging from a sinister, shiny, hearse-like black carriage bearing "VR" initials and a crown. An equally glossy black two-door Hanson cab bedecked with a Masonic compasses and set square logo conveys devious spymaster Campion Bond.

In those days, "government" basically meant military, foreign policy or espionage. New and suitably sinister government agencies then forming could have deployed Wells's black government wagons. The Special Irish Branch of the Metropolitan Police, set up in 1883 to combat the "Fenian menace", was at the time of TWotW

Invasion paranoia was in the air too. Wells parodied a rich vein of "invasion literature", kicked off in 1871 by George Tomkyns Chesney's bestseller The Battle of Dorking, in which Germans invade England' south coast. Some 60 "invasion literature" works followed, although by the time TWotW appeared, the invader was more likely French or Russian.

The better-known illustrations from TWofW, for the 1906 edition by Henrique Alvim Correa. He contacted Wells to tell him he thought he could better illustrations than Globe's.

Could the black government wagons have been steam wagons? The Thornycroft Steam Carriage had been in production since 1895, with Chiswick Council using one as a dust cart. Meanwhile, the Foden Steam Vehicle – a traction engine with a space like a flat-bed truck at the back – was used in Army trials at the end of the 19th century. Contemporary monochrome photos show the Steam Vehicle in a dark colour. Foden's Steam Lorry made its appearance in 1900, with War Office trials of the vehicle the following year, it also appeared in a dark colour in contemporary photos. The Lancashire Steam Motor Company (later Leyland) was already turning out steam vans by then, while the Automotor and Horseless Vehicle Journal had been circulating since 1896.

That dark coloured paint job for contemporary "government wagons" though, could have been khaki. The militia and yoemanry units massacred by Martian heat rays in TwotW would have been the last British army units to go to war wearing redcoats. Khaki uniforms had already made their appearance on the battlefield for regular units fightings in the Boer War in 1900. Steam lorries still in use at the outbreak of World War One, with "WD Roads" stencilled on the side, are known to have been painted in khaki. In any event, it’s intriguing to find the shiny black vehicles conveying the Men in Black prefigured over a half century earlier, with fictional "black government wagons" deployed in response to the equally fictional incursions of extraterrestrials.

A World War One era steam lorry painted in khaki with "WD" (War Department) stencilled on the side. Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain

©️ Matt Salusbury 2024

Mary Anning and the sea dragon

Was one of paleontolgy's most sensational discoveries originally named after a lethal triphibian cryptid that had featured in that fortean classic The Gentlemen’s Magazine?

This article first appeared in Fortean Times magazine, issue FT449

The head and neck of the "sea dragon" Ichthyosaur discovered by Mary and Joseph Anning from 2011. Part of the neck and torso of the specimen has since been lost. This species has since been renamed Temnodontosaurus platyodon It's now on display at the Natural History Museum (the British Museum, Natural History at the time.) Photo: Matt Salusbury

Among the great stories from the history of paleontology is that of how Mary Anning, then aged 12, together with her brother discovered the first identified prehistoric marine reptile. Mary's brother Joseph found the skull of what became known as Ichthyosaurus in the cliffs between their native Lyme Regis and Charmouth in 1811. From the time of Joseph's discovery of the the skull, the name "sea dragon" attached itself to the find – apparently because of its many sharp teeth and its big eye sockets.

After the Annings's discovery of the skull, Mary found the neck and partial torso of the same animal the following year. Although the Anning family had been on the poor relief, they managed to raise funds to pay labourers to dig out the fossil in November of that year. The Annings sold the skeleton of the "sea dragon" to lord of the manor Henry Hoste Henley for the princely sum of £23, enough to lift the family out of poverty. The fossil found its way to Bullock's Museum of Picadilly. It was later auctioned off to Charles Konig of the British Museum, where it caused a sensation.

The scientific establishment was forced to accept that animals had once walked the Earth or swum its seas bore scant resemblance to anything still alive in the 1820s. This allowed people to contemplate the immense span of time that had passed since the "sea dragon" lived – far longer than allowed for in a world created on October 22 4004 BC, as calculated by Archbishop Ussher of Armagh. The "sea dragon" undermined the prevailing orthodoxy which held that all animals were created as part of God's plan.

Various official names for the beast discovered by the Annings were suggested, including the grand-sounding Proteosaurus. But the official name Ichthyosaurus ("fish lizard"), Konig’s idea, finally stuck. One of the earliest life reconstructions of Ichthyosaurus was in Thomas Hawkins' Book of the Great Sea dragons – icthysauri and Plesiosauri, gadolim, taninim, of Moses. This appeared in 1840, so the "sea dragon" terminology was still in use some 30 years later.

The Encyclopedia Britannica of 1810, just before the Annings' discovery, featured an entry for "SEA-Dragon". This quotes an article in that fortean favourite The Gentlemen’s Magazine of 1749 describing an encounter "between Orford and Southwold" on the Suffolk coast with a "monster of a very singular nature." In the words of a witness who'd seen the creature’s corpse, its "head and tail… resemble those of an alligator; it has two large fins, which serve it both to swim and to fly… shaped like those which painters have given to dragons… Its body is covered with impenetrable scales; its legs have two joints, and its feet are hoofed like those of an ass: it has five rows of very white and sharp teeth in jaw and is in length about four feet."

The Britannica entry recorded how two fishermen captured the animal after a struggle in which one fisherman had two fingers bitten off, he died soon after. As the "sea dragon" was brought ashore, it escaped, flew 50 yards and lacerated another man's arm with its bite before it was battered to death with a boathook. The entry for "sea dragon" was still in the Encyclopeadia Britannica in its 1823 edition. Suffolk Ghosts and Legends quotes another Gentlemen’s Magazine article of 1750 that describes a living "Suffolk monster" exhibited in London. Possibly an attempt to cash in on the previous year's "sea dragon", this Suffolk monster looked suspiciously like a seal or sea lion.

Mary Anning is known to have been an autodidact who as an adult borrowed the latest natural history journals and laboriously copied out their articles. So could Mary have been inspired by the sea dragon Britannica entry in naming it? Lyme Regis was already a seaside resort where the well-to-do holidayed for the "sea bathing", while Encyclopedia Britannica was for some a much-used work of reference. So it's not hard to imagine a conversation involving a holidaymaker visiting Lyme Regis and remarking on the similarity between Mary Anning's new discovery and the spikey, bitey, many-toothed flying monster that mauled a fisherman off the Suffolk Coast half a century earlier, so extraordinary that they'd remembered it from Britannica.

In recent years, popular science media has revived the term “sea dragon” to describe Ichthyosaurs, the BBC's 2018 documentary Attenborough and the Sea Dragon being an example. (Yes, it’s another Ichthyosaur, whose huge skull was discovered on Britain's Jurassic coast.) Presumably, the current vogue for rebranding Ichthyosaurs as more accessible-sounding “sea dragons” is because Ichthyosaurus is near-impossible to either spell or pronounce.

SOURCES:

Encyclopedia Britannica Dictionary of Arts, Sciences, and Miscellaneous Literature Volume XIX, 1823, which quotes extensively from The Gentlemen’s Magazine, 1849. The 1823 Britannica entry for the sea-dragon is near identical to that in the 1810 edition, Suffolk Ghosts and Legends, Pamela Brooks, Halsgrove, Wellington, Somerset 2009, has a retelling of the story which quotes Britannica in its edition of 1810.

Attenborough and the Sea Dragon, BBC iPlayer, 2018, 2023,

There's more on the "sea dragon" and other Suffolk sea monsters and sea serpents in my book Mystery Animals of Suffolk.

West Suffolk’s 1985 big cat flap

The county police forces of both Suffolk and Norfolk had multiple call-outs in April 1985 following a wave of big cat sightings in West Suffolk, according to newspaper articles from that time that I recently tracked down in the British Library. There was also a big cat alert at the time around the local RAF Honington air base.

This is significant as credible reports of big cat sightings in Suffolk in the 1980s are very rare. Read more...

Mermaids and manimals of Suffolk

The following extract from Mystery Animals of Suffolk appeared in Fortean Times, issue FT444.


“PRAY resolve me in your next Week’s Paper, whether there be any such Thing in Nature as Mermen and Mermaids, I being not yet satisfied in the verity thereof, notwithstanding the Reports of Seamen and others.” That was the plea from a letter writer to the Ipswich Journal, 27 May 1721. The vexed reader of the Ipswich Journal may well have believed in mermaids, possibly because his parents had told him from an early age to believe in mermaids (as they might convince their infants to believe in Father Christmas today). His parents would have a very practical reason for doing so, as we will see.

With the possible exception of the Orford “merman” found by fishermen off the coast at Orford Ness and described by medieval chronicler Ralph of Coggeshall, Suffolk’s merfolk were all female – mermaids rather than mermen. And “Reports of Seamen” didn’t feature in Suffolk mermaid traditions. The Orford merman – possibly just a human gone feral – was the only merperson found off the coast, as all the Suffolk mermaids were freshwater mermaids, found in the county’s rivers, lakes, wells, pools and even its drainage ditches. Read more...

A sceptical report of wildmen seen in pre-Roman Britain in AD16?

A wildman on the porch of the church at Peasenhall, Suffolk. It dates from around 1490.

I found what's likely to be the earliest surviving reference to wildmen in England – or at least possibly in what's now England or possibly somewhere on the North Sea coast. The source is from way back in around 116AD, describing alleged events a century earlier.

The Annals, written by the Roman historian and senator Publius Conrelius Tacitus, describes the reigns of the early Roman emperors Tiberius and Nero. It covers the period from AD14 to AD68. The Annals was written around 116AD, so around a century after the events it describes, possibly using as a source the Acta Senatus, the records of the Roman senate, to which he would have had access to as a Roman senator.

In the Annals Book 2, 23-24 there is an account of a Roman fleet commanded by the general Germanicus Julius Caesar, nephew and adopted son of the Emperor Tiberius, in 16AD. This fleet was transporting legions returning from campaigns against German tribes and going back to their forts in the province of Germania Inferior (the southwestern part of what’s now the Netherlands up to the Rhine and parts of Germany and Belgium).

Long before the canals linking the interior to the North Sea were constructed, this required the fleet to sail up the River Ems (now on the Dutch-German border on the Fresian coast), sail into the North Sea and then make the dangerous journey along the treacherous Dutch coast before entering the River Schelde and returning to base. The fleet of Germanicus was blown off course, some troops were left marooned on islands in the Waddenzee around the Dutch coast or even blown all the way to Britannia (then still outside the Roman Empire), these troops were later returned to Roman territory, sent by boat by British "local chieftains."

Tacitus describes how shipwrecked Roman legionaries and sailors who had been blown off course to the "distant regions told the most amazing stories; enormous tornados, birds that nobody had ever heard of before, sea monsters, and enigmatic forms that were half man and half beast: they had seen or imagined them in their terror." Tacitus was apparently of the opinion that soldiers and sailors in the service of Roman had imagined such horrors as "half men, half beast" while suffering from what we would now call PSTD. At the time that Tacitus was writing, Britannia had been largely brought under Roman rule, and while it was known to be populated with "barbarians", Romans knew there were no wildmen to be found there. However, in the days of Germanus's expedition, the thought of setting foot in the wild, unknown land of Britannia, beyond the edge of the known world, induced terror.

So in the early days of the Roman Empire, there were already stories of wildmen, "half man and half beast" living on what was seen as the edge of the world, with at least one author showing scepticism about such tales. This is at least 800 years before the first evidence for Western European Wildman traditions.

Crypto-conference

Matt Salusbury reports from the 2023 'Rencontres Europeennes de Cryptozoologie' in Dinant, Belgium This article first appeared in Fortean Times, FT 441.

A clutch of cryptozoologists in search of an unknown animal - it turned out to be a domesticated rhea in the grounds


There was excitement as a dozen cryptozoologists crowded at the window. Someone insisted they'd seen "an out-of-place animal… an ostrich or something" walking past. Some were sceptical; there were cryptozoology in-jokes about "the unreliability of the witness" and ironic cries of "Canular!" ("hoax" in French). Our out-of-place animal turned to be a rhea pottering around its small "hobby farm" in the hotel's extensive grounds.

We were in Day Two of 'Rencontres Europeennes de Cryptozoologie (European Cryptozoology Meeting) organised by Abepar in Dinant, Belgium, where the Ardennes mountains begin. I had attended the event 11 years previously and struggled to follow the talkls in French. At the event in Brussels in 2017 I gave a presentation on pygmy elephants in my own very poor French. They asked me back this year, but for a talk in English.

Shortly after my arrival there was a "round table" discussion presented by conference instigator Eric Joye. Bernard Heuvelmans, the "father of cryptozoolgy", was, of course, Belgian. I learnt during the round table that besides his zoology gig, Heuvelmans also had a brief career as a jazz singer in wartime and post-war Paris, where he reportedly met Duke Ellington and Josephine Baker.

Eric described the proto-cryptozoologists who predated Heuvelmans - Erik Pontopiddan, a Danish Lutheran bishop whose two-volume The Natural History of Norway (1752-1753) covered kraken and mermaids and was the first published work to describe the giant squid. Other pre-Heuvelmans cryptozoolists included Pierre Denys de Montfort who in the 1770s collected possibly dodgy accounts of giant octopuses off France's Atlantic coast. There was also Antonie Cornelius Oudemans, director of The Hague Zoo, whose English-language The Great Sea Serpent concluded that these could be a long-necked species of seal (FT348:38-39). French dictionaries, noted Eric, have defined cryptozoology as "scientific study" for some time; it's firmly categorised as "pseudoscience" by an army of sceptical editors on today's English-language Wikipedia.

Some 15,000 new species are discovered each year, of which only a handful are mammals. The Kobomani tapir was discovered in 2013, three species of monkey, including the lopunji, have been described to science within the 21st century, while Caprimulgus solala, the Ethiopian nightingale, has been scientifically described without a complete specimen having yet been found - we just have one of its wings.

I did my talk on big cats in Britain (Suffolk in particular, it's all in my book Mystery Animals of Suffolk.) I was pleasantly surprised that I could understand all the French-language questions afterwards. One young first-time punter, a local vet's assistant, said he'd been inspired by recent news reports of a big cat seen on the Belgian-German border. (Eric thinks it might have been this report from 2021, confirming lynxes have returned to Belgium after an absence of well over 250 years.) I mentioned in my talk that two fortean investigators in the UK - Neil Arnold in Kent and Darren Mann (the Paranormal Database) in Ipswich - regularly get big cat reports from Belgium or the Netherlands as there seems to be no one easily identifiable to report big cat sightings to in those countries.

The tigre de Tasmanie (Tasmanian tiger or thylacine) - and whether it still lives among us-was the subject of Adele David's talk. Thylacines had been hunted for about a century in the belief that they killed sheep, with bounties offered for their skins. The practice was finally banned in 1936 - too late: the last known thylacine died that year in Tasmania's Hobart Zoo. Reported sightings of thylacines in the wild started almost immediately. The species was declared extinct in 1982. But Adele told us there have been around 3,000 witness reports, including many on the Australian mainland. There have been possible thylacine tracks, videos and recordings of its calls. There is consistency in sightings with descriptions of something "like a dog with a broken back", a "steep" sloping tail, a "particular" gait and a distinctive, strong odour.

Veteran cryptozoologist Michel Raynal explained how "the Belgians failed to discover the okapi". The British pipped them to the post by a few months, when Philip Sclater formally described Equus(?) johnstoni (now Okapi johnstoni) for the Royal Zoological Society of London in 1901, based on a striped okapi-skin belt sent by Sir Harry Johnston from Uganda. From the 1870s various explorers, first Germans then French and Belgians, reported "strange antelopes", donkey-like animals, something "zebra-like" or an "antelope-ass-giraffe". These were known by various peoples as ku-mbutti, atti, makapi, ndumba, abuttu or okapi.

Local chiefs showed their status by wearing belts made from the animal's striped hide. Lieutenant Leon Vincart, in the service of "the authorities of the Belgian Congo", in 1899 sent one such belt to Maredsous Abbey, not far from Dinant, where his brother was a monk and where Father Gregoire Fournier had a zooiogy collection which exists to this day. Michel tracked down the okapi-skin belt, still in the collection and logged just a few months before Sclater's description.

Dr Charles Paxton presented work "in its very early stages" that asked: "How can we explain cryprozoological experiences?" There are, he said, no rules for explaining encounters with creatures such as the Loch Ness Monster, for which there are now over 100 different hypotheses on offer, mostly involving misidentifications.

Charles's studies are now taking him from marine biology and statistics into the realms of philosophy and "thought experiments". Concentrating on historic sea serpent sightings with multiple witnesses, he described what happens if we have two hypotheses of "equal explanatory power'': we choose the simplest one. He went into offsetting complexity and explanatory power in explaining sea serpent sightings, "abductive arguments" as used by Sherlock Holmes and "the problem of causation". He admitted that he was "trying to find a tame philosopher to help me get through the philosophical literature" on this.

Looking to the future, Eric has plans for a cryptozoology "festival" next time, aimed at a broader, non-specialist audience. Details will be on the Abepar website www.cryptozoologia.eu.

Thanks to Eric (on the left), Pierre-Yves ("Pierro") on audio-visual and all at Abepar, and in particular to the equipe de traduction - the translation team, on the right: Cassandra, Corentin and Anna - all students from The University of Mons, who rendered my talk into French as I gave it.

Hotel Castel Pont a Lesse in the foothills of the Ardennes. Originally a chateau, it was bought by a steelworkers' union to become "The Castle of the Trade Unions", a venue for their congresses and cadre training. It was the scene of an abortive Declaration of Independence for Wallonia (the French-speaking region of Belgium) in 1950.

The town of Dinant's unique selling point is being the birthplace of Adolphe Saxe, whose birthday it was the day I left. The open-all-hours supermarket and the laundrette in Dinant celebrate the saxophone.

Rows of giant saxophones on the Charles de Gaulle Bridge. (The future President of France was wounded defending the bridge as a lieutenant in the opening days of World War One, when the town also witnessed a massacre of civilians by the advancing Germans.)

A statue commemorating De Gaulle's stand on the bridge at Dinant as a young lieutenant in 1914, although he seems to have lost a hand!

Dr Charles Paxton

The author with Abepar's Tintin in Tibet-inspired conference banner.

Michel Raynal on "how the Beglians missed out on discovering the okapi".

Mystery Animals of Suffolk and bigcatsofsuffolk.com

I am pleased to announce the publication of my book Mystery Animals of Suffolk - including an account of over 150 mystery big cat sightings, published by Slack-jawed Amazement Productions and printed in Suffolk by Leiston Press.


It's available from its distributors Bittern Books and yes, it's on Amazon UK too. If you're in East Anglia, you can buy it at Dunwich Museum, Aldeburgh Bookshop, The Halesworth Bookshop, The Chocolate Box, Bungay and the Arts and Craft Centre, Old Hunstanton.


So far I have been interviewed about Mystery Animals of Suffolk by BBC Radio Suffolk twice (most recently here) and on Gen-X Suffolk Radio, also by East Anglian Daily Times and Suffolk News website.


It's all on my website bigcatsofsuffolk.com, which has updates on Mystery Animals of Suffolk and events around it. It also has a "report a big cat sighting" form - I'm getting about one report a week now. The website also has footage of what looks like a black leopard in Wortham from 2010 and a video showing a very strange animal just over the Norfolk border on the edge of Thetford Forest.