[Journalist]:
Again, I was on my way to London, through towns and villages that were blackened ruins, totally silent, desolate, deserted. Man's empire had passed away, taken swiftly and without error, by these creatures who were composed entirely of brain. Unhampered by the complex systems which make up man, they made and used different bodies according to their needs. They never tired, never slept and never suffered, having long since eliminated from their planet the bacteria which cause all fevers and other morbidities...

[The Artilleryman]:
Halt! Who goes there?

[Journalist]:
Er - a friend

[The Artilleryman]:
Be on your way. This is my territory

[Journalist]:
Your territory? What do you mean?

[The Artilleryman]:
Wait a minute - it's you! The man from Maybury Hill!

[Journalist]:
Good heavens! The Artilleryman! I thought you surely burned!

[The Artilleryman]:
I thought you surely drowned!

[Journalist]:
Is this your house?
[The Artilleryman]:
‘tis now

[Journalist]:
Aha! Have you seen any Martians?

[The Artilleryman]:
Everywhere. We're done for all right...

[Journalist]:
You mean the war is lost?
[The Artilleryman]:
There never was a war! There’s no war between men and ants, and that’s what we are now, ants!
[Journalist]:
We can't just give up!

[The Artilleryman]:
Course we can't. It's now we've got to start fighting - but not against them 'cos we can't win. Now we've got to fight for survival, and I reckon we can make it. I've got a plan...