The Great War of the Worlds

The Trigger of June

It was a morning like any other, of any other summer. People came and went, all minding their own business. The chimneys of the factories and homes were smoking, and the children held onto their berets as they played to the ball in the street, dodging the carriages and the few motor cars that passed by. The city had a new morning.

The sun illuminated Berlin, capital of the Kaiserreich, the German Empire. The busy businessmen were dismissed by their wives on their way to their respective jobs, while the workers walked in unison with their shovels and tools and with their faces full of soot. Women walked the avenues, commenting on the good skills of their partners or talking about their lives as housewives. Some children clung to lampposts and shouted at the top of their lungs to draw the attention of their fellow citizens to the latest news in the newspapers. The atmosphere nearby in the Reichstag was continually flooded with words and reason, with the assembled politicians discussing matters that concerned the country. In the port of Kiel, to the north, not far from the city, soldiers patrolled its surroundings, steamships docked at its facilities, and their goods and supplies were unloaded, while in the military region, workers and engineers underwent a biannual inspection of the flagship dreadnought-class cruisers and battleships.

People bustled up and down. Workers melted iron and coal, built walls and fixed roads. Law enforcement patrolled the streets. Fathers and mothers walked with their children, some demanding speed, others education, but always attentive to their care, as more than one mother showed when comforting her son. Many youths were also in a hurry, tightly clutching their books and purses on their way to their schools and academies. Others, in their early twenties, began to open small businesses and family stores, always with education and discipline. From a bird's-eye view, one could feel the continuous movement of the smoke, the arrival of trains from all German regions to the capital. Sitting in train and tram cars, citizens watched the streets and buildings pass by, just as those who took the subway enjoyed the speed and comfort of moving underground.

In itself, one could breathe an atmosphere of happiness and pride, shared by the citizens of the Reich, and it was no wonder if they could enjoy living together in the most powerful nation in continental Europe. But with a similar atmosphere, the rest of the continent was also waking up.

In France, the streets had also woken up, and its citizens were preparing to face a new day, similar to that of Germany. In Paris, the Sun did not hit yet with the same force as it did in Berlin, but the indisputable aroma of café and croissant, already accompanied the gentlemen along with a good newspaper on the terraces of the Parisian cafés. The buildings, whose light gray roofs marked the Parisian urban character, making it look like a great sea of ​​slate, began to fill with life and work, both in homes and offices. Only a few monuments managed to escape such uniformity. Among them, the Eiffel Tower, a perfect example of this; always watched by cars, horse carriages and pedestrians, marking its presence as "The Iron Lady".

The unified Kingdom of Italy also began a new day, with the Vatican bells calling the faithful to a meeting and waking up the Roman stragglers. The ministers of the Lord began to celebrate masses and offer advice to the shepherd's lambs. In Venice, painters and sculptors resumed the culmination of their works, just as poets moved along the coasts searching inspiration for their poetry and writings. Merchants and workers prepared to deploy the Italian sales machinery in their markets and industries, setting the rhythm of the Roman routine. The Eternal City awakens observed by the ancient aqueducts and monuments. The taverns began to receive their first customers, just as ships from Sicily and Sardinia arrived and docked with precious shipments of wine and olive oil.

In London, Big Ben marks 10:00 a.m., on a foggy June morning. In the elegant residential neighborhoods, maids collected and cleaned the remains of breakfast, while men received the wish of a good day from their wives. Citizens walked along the cobblestone paths. Those in a hurry, constantly, checked their pocket watches: 10:10 h. And quickly boarded the London double-decker bus and left. In the north, the Scottish ships returned to port with the first round of North Sea's catches, while the railways ran through the British island from north to south, with hundreds of passengers and hundreds of glances from farmers and ranchers from the towns of the countryside such as Horsell, Ottershaw and Woking.

In St. Petersburg, the sun was shining brightly. On the elegant avenues, horse-drawn carriages circulated, and elegant ladies strolled with their parasols. On the residential streets, bustle and animation were evident everywhere, creating a peaceful but tense atmosphere. In the city's canals, boats sailed quietly, transporting goods, while workers completed maintenance work on the beautiful buildings that lined the banks. Then, bars and taverns welcomed the workers, fresh from the factories, who came to eat what they could and drink some vodka to face the rest of the day. While in palace, the Tsar enjoyed a reception and chatting with his aristocratic guests, ready to enjoy a day that was, in principle, immutable.

In the same way, the rest of the world, depending on their time zone, prepared or would prepare to face with a day, in principle, like any other. In Vienna, Budapest, Oslo, Madrid, New York, Istanbul, Tokyo or Beijing, the same atmosphere was or would be breathed. On a day like any other, with a recently begun summer, people could only think that life would continue just as it had been doing for the last decade, the last century, and the last millennium.

Men worked to support their families; women called for order at home; children played, cried and laughed; youth learned to become as good as their predecessors; doctors attended their patients; businessmen bought and sold stock; leaders ruled for their countries and interests...

We all might have thought that our daily lives would keep going, but sometimes we have to go through processes of change. Some changes affect us individually, some others affect society, and others destroy both, and...

Back in Germany, a man listens to the children who sell the newspaper. He goes and asks for one. The children show it to him; it was just printed. "How much does it cost?", he asks them. "One pfennig (or cent)," they answer him. He pays for it, the children thank him, and he thanks them back. Walking, he puts away his wallet and picks up the paper, the Berliner Tageblatt, reads the morning news, notices the date...

A car moves through the streets, everyone witnesses it; its occupants wave to the crowd, and they return it animatedly. A happy man and a happy woman-that's good; they thank the closeness of their people. They stop at a corner, the driver tries to maneuver, the citizens applaud them, and they smile back. It's a good day, everything is good and... Bang! Bang!

Screams, fear and two shots, June 28, 1914.