The Happiest Days by Jonah
This is a story about love - real love - at work in the lives of good people. It follows on from "Halls of Academia," but the story really began many, many moons ago with "A Letter from America". There are no real people herein so, if you think one of the characters is based on you, or on somebody you know, have another think and come up with a different answer. Having said that, I didn't invent every character. A couple of them were originally crafted by another author. I have to (well, actually, it is my pleasure to) thank Jacob Lion, in the USA for his permission to use his characters in my stories.
I hope you will enjoy this story, and I'm grateful to Nifty for enabling me to bring it to you. Nifty does not charge either me or you for doing so, but it does cost money to do it. Please consider donating to Nifty at https://donate.nifty.org/ to help keep this site going.
Chapter 5 More Railroading.
On Saturday morning, the North Norfolk Railway had rostered me for diesel driving. Some work was ongoing on the ground frame at the East end of Sheringham station, so trains couldn't run round in the platforms. I was to fetch a 350hp 0-6-0 shunting diesel from the shed at Weybourne and use it to release the engines of incoming trains. There are two ways of doing this. Firstly, the trains could stop short of Sheringham platform and detach the engine. My diesel could then be attached to pull the train for the last few yards into the station. That, of course, meant that I would be working a passenger train for a short distance, which wasn't a problem. What was a problem was that it left my engine trapped at the East end of the platform so that, if another train came in, there wouldn't be a diesel to release its engine until the first train had departed.
The preferred method was that the train engine would work right into the platform and the passengers get off. I would then pull the empty coaches clear of the platform so that the train engine could get out. Then I would put the coaches back, remove my diesel so that the train engine could get back onto its train.
At seven o'clock on Saturday morning, I parked in Weybourne shed car park. I reported to the stores, collected the start handle for the diesel, than checked the roster board to confirm which diesel I was to take. I had been allocated D3935, and and Ben Whitton had been rostered as second man. I walked across to the loco and found Ben oiling round axleboxes and side-rods. Ben Pigeon called a greeting from the 9F, where he was sat waiting to go off shed. The B12 was the other steam loco, but I'd seen that on the main line, headed for Sheringham as I drove up.
I climbed to the running plate and opened all the side doors so that I could inspect the inside workings.
"Have you done the pots?" I called down to Ben.
"Next job," he called up.
""Just do the exhauster," I told him. "I'll go and get some paraffin."
I took a small oiler, half filled it with lubricating oil, then trundled across to the stores to top it up with paraffin. Back at the loco, I climbed back up onthe running plate and squeezed myself into the engine compartment. I tried to worm myself into a position where I could reach all twelve of the dash-pots on top of the rocker boxes. It's not easy because there is no room and the engine compartment floor is a long way down. A corpulent man couldn't do it. No more could a short man.
I got down to the running plate just as Ben slammed the exhauster compartment shut.
"Switches in Ben," I called, and waited while he closed the battery isolating switches on each side.
"I'll pump Ben, " I told him. "You start her up when I tell you."
I watched him climb to the cab, then started pumping the oil priming pump. As soon as I felt the handle go stiff I called out,
"Go for it Ben."
The big engine shuddered then burst into life. I closed the last of the engine compartment doors then climbed down and made for the cab.
Ben had started the engine, but left the starter handle in the E.O. (engine only) position. I pulled it to the "on" position so that the compressor would start up. A glance upwards showed me that the fuel service tank contained less than forty gallons.
"Do you want to nip over to the box and have a word with the bobby?" I asked Ben. "We'll be ready by the time you get back. We could do with being in the middle road before Ben takes his 9F down."
"OK," he responded as he slid out of the door. I moved into his seat and began to work at the fuel transfer pump. By the time I had seventy gallons in the top tank the air pressure guage was reading 65lbs/in2. I dropped the direct air brake handle and watched the brake cylinder guage climb. I released the brake and watched the brakes come off and the pressure needle climb back to 65. Happy with that, I reapplied the brake and wound off the parking brake. After testing the deadman's pedal, I moved back to my own side of the cab as Ben climbed back on board.
"Right away mate," he said as he slammed the door. "Clear this side."
I put my foot on the deadman's, pulled the reverser into reverse, lifted the air brake handle and clicked open the power controller. checking that the signal was, indeed, "off".
As the engine snaked her way over the points to the main line, I pulled the controller further open. I watched the ammeter swing up to nearly 2,000 Amps and then start to fall back. As the speedo needle started to hover around ten miles per hour, I closed the controller. On a 1 in 80 falling gradient I didn't need more power.
I applied power briefly to take us over the 1 in 100 at Deadman's Hill, then drifted down into the middle road at Sheringham, where I screwed down the parking brake and shut down the engine. Ben and I waited. Soon the 9F arrived and coupled to the coaches in platform 1, I restarted the engine and changed over the brakes again when the B12 arrived and drew its train into platform 2. When the guard called me forward, I ran forward and waited while Ben coupled me to the coaches. In the meantime, I had operated the big exhauster switch on the back wall of the cab and we soon had vacuum brakes working. Once the guard had done his brake test, he signalled us away. I put on all the power I had to draw the heavy train from the platform. I stopped when signalled to do so then waited while the B12 slid over into the third road. Next came the interesting bit. Plartform 2 was heaving with people as the guard leaned out and started signalling me to propel the coaches back in. I strained to see his signals against the background of people. I really didn't like this. When he signalled me to stop I dumped the vacuum and told Ben to uncouple us. I waited for him then dropped back onto the middle road to wait for our next job. It would be another hour so I shut down and then walked to the operating office.
Trevor, the duty officer, was waiting for me.
"I know what you've come to tell me," he said, "and you're right."
"Crumbs," I said, "that's the second time today. Next thing you know, I'll be making a habit of it."
He ignored that.
"There are just too many people on the platforms. It isn't safe for you to propel into them. We'll have to do it the other way. We'll lose time, but it can't be helped."
"Blimey!" I said. "If I'd known I was going to be driving passenger trains, I'd have put a tie on."
I didn't resent the naughty word he called me. I just went in search of a brew.
It was two in the afternoon when we coupled to our third passenger train, having watched the 9F taken off of it. Once the guard had conducted a brake test, I blew off the vacuum brake and hauled the train into the platform. No sooner had we come to a stand than Garret opened the door and lifted two little boys onto the footplate.
"Is this your disiesel," Lloyd asked.
"Diesel," Philip corrected.
"Yes, noisy isn't it?" I commented.
I reached across and shut off the exhauster, dropped the air brake handle, then put the vacuum brake handle to "emergency" then "running". Next I lifted the toggle to destroy the vacuum in the chamber. Having done that I wound on the parking brake and released the air brake, then moved the starter handle to "off". It went quiet.
"I'll see if I can get us a brew," said Ben, vacating his seat. Philip promptly occupied it while Ben lifted Lloyd onto the desk. There is plenty in the cab of a 350 for small boys to ask questions about.
By the time the 9F took its train away, the other train was standing on the middle road - the B12 having just uncoupled from it. The boys disembarked so that I could follow the departing train out and couple to the incoming one. We're not allowed to carry children under 12 on a footplate. The 9F, when it came back again was our last train. I suggested to Trevor that we should not uncouple, but let the 9F tow us dead to Weybourne, where we would uncouple and take our loco on shed to dispose. He was happy to save the signalmen a movement so we did that, and I was home for half past six.
Garret, of course, was there first and had liver and onions with mash and peas ready for us. The jam tart and custard for dessert was excellent too. Both boys were excited, and wanted to talk railways all night. Lloyd, very kindly, showed Philip some of his steam engine books. That kept them both busy till bedtime.