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"This is the place where we make the stuff to blow the world to pieces," he proudly boasted. "If our enemies could only see that the war would be over." I suggested that Essen was not the only arsenal. There were, for instance, Woolwich, Glasgow, Newcastle, Creusot, and in my own strictly neutral country Bethlehem, Bridgeport, and one or two other humble hamlets.
Soon after the taking of Fort Douaumont when I was at Verdun, Beauchamp, blond, blue-eyed and gentle of manner, who had thrilled all France by bombing Essen, said, "Now they will expect me to go farther and do something greater;" and I was not surprised to learn a month later that he had been killed.
By a certain point of identification all of the fliers knew Dusseldorf when that large factory center was reached. So far they had not seen an enemy plane. Essen was not far ahead now. Searchlights had been semaphoring over more than one town they had passed, but not until they had come over Dusseldorf did any of the Hun eyes from below see them.
The deep lake lays before us. I hain't gin much idee of all there is to see in that buildin', and I hain't in any on 'em. You have got to swim out for yourself, and then you may have some idee of the vastness on't. But you can't describe 'em, I don't believe nobody can't. In front of that buildin' we see one of the two largest guns ever made in the world. It wuz made in Essen, Germany.
Then the pale, sad man produces a large brass horn, big enough at the business end for a cow to walk into. It is a fearful, ponderous instrument, manufactured especially for "Die Walküre" at the Krupp Gun Factory in Essen. It has an appropriate name: the master himself christened it the boomerangelungen. It is the monarch, the Jumbo of all musical instruments.
In his hand was an ugly-looking, smokeless, soundless automatic of the Essen type. "And I've got another one for you. Brought them with me." His face was white and drawn, but his hands had steadied. The tremble was gone out of his voice. "I'm going after him, George! Now! Understand that? Now? His place is only thirty miles from here, out there in the mountains.
Spandau, Essen, all the centers in the Rhine Valley for the manufacture of munitions on a grand scale ... the great Krupp factories ... unless they were in ruins the revolution was a failure.... She could not be everywhere at once.
A notorious example is furnished by the great works at Essen owned by Krupp. In the same position are the great French works at Creusot, owned by Schneider, and those of our own English firms, Armstrongs, Vickers, John Brown, and Cammell Laird. These are all successful concerns, and the shareholders have reaped large profits.
Consequently, though Alberic in 1850 may have been merely the vulgar Manchester Factory-owner portrayed by Engels, in 1876 he was well on the way towards becoming Krupp of Essen or Carnegie of Homestead.
The daring exploit evidently work up the newly appointed anti-aircraft gunners, for they subsequently annihilated two of their own machines approaching from the West. The badly paid war slaves of Essen are working the whole twenty-four hours, seven days a week, in three shifts a day of eight hours each, under strict martial law.
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