The Enginemen, Chapter 7/1

Glossary

‘Spare’ turn – a shift when the driver and fireman have no booked work, but remain on the depot to cover any absences through leave or sickness or emergency working.

The 40XX ‘Castle’ series – the earliest engines of the class built between 1923 and 1927.

The ‘Oxford Flyer’ – nickname for the 5/30pm Oxford – Paddington non-stop express allowed the flat hour for the 63 mile run.

Boiler washout – a frequent (approx weekly) regular maintenance activity involving a thorough cleaning through of the steam tubes in the boiler. Failure to do this properly could lead to the locomotive steaming badly and losing time.

Pilot – an assistant engine, that would be attached in front of the train engine so that they were ‘double-headed’.

Grange – a GWR 4-6-0 ‘mixed traffic locomotive with smaller driving wheels that made it suitable for the steep gradients on the Cornish main line.

Bogie – the set of smaller wheels leading the engine , the ‘4’ of the 4-6-0.

Chapter 7: May 1961

It was a Sunday. James Peplow was not booked on duty but he had nothing better to do so he came to the depot. He did not make himself known to the timekeeper because people would make fun of him. He’d had to give up his own engine during the week, because it had been commandeered for the Newbury Races trains. He’d have a word with George Munday about that, it cut across the agreement about sticking to your own engine. He’d had to put up with a series of substitutes during the week as he’d been on the only spare turn in the link. That was presumably why the Running Foreman had pinched 5008 for the specials. And also his own mate was on leave.

They’d given him 4075 on Wednesday and a rough old tub she was. She steamed alright and was fine for a parcels down to Oxford. He’d been on the ‘Oxford Flyer’ back though, vice a Rest Day man, and she was totally unsuitable for a fast run like that. However, if that’s what they’d given him, he’d show them even if it half killed his fireman, the regular guy on that turn, in the process. The load was light, and they were never in trouble for steam, but he pounded that engine hard after Didcot and she rattled and rolled as he belted her, a flurry of steam obscuring the front end from leaking valves, while the fireman tried to adjust his swing to the violent movement. She was doing a good 80 as he approached Reading, and he kept her hard at it as they swept through the middle road, after bouncing over the West Junction and offering a fearsome sight to the massed hordes on the station. He looked at the fireman as they tore on towards Sonning. He was as white as a sheet.

“F***ing hell, mate. Are you trying to kill us both? I could have sworn we were off the road then.”

James said nothing, but kept the regulator wide open. They rolled round the Twyford dog-leg and continued to pile on the speed trying to pick up the two minute arrears on passing Reading. 83 at Maidenhead and still more.

“For God’s sake, slow down, man,” shouted the fireman as they flashed past Burnham. “We’ll be all over the place as we hit Slough.”

James Peplow snapped the regulator shut and turned on the blower to pre-empt any chance of a blow-back, but made no attempt to brake. The fireman dropped his shovel and clung to the cab handrail and the engine swung wildly over the junction. The noise of everything juddering and rattling drowned out other sounds, and if the fireman said anything, it was lost in the cacophony. The fireman downed tools after Slough and sat grim faced on his seat, hanging on tightly. It didn’t matter, it was easy steaming then and the train coasted into Paddington in 58 minutes for the 63 miles non stop, two minutes early. Nothing was said by either man, as they drifted back to the shed, where the fireman made a complaint about the driver and demanded never to be paired with him again. Peplow said nothing but merely noted that they had kept time and wrote on the repair card at the end of the turn that 4075 was ‘unfit for fast passenger work’.

Next day, as if to rub it in, they gave him a rough ‘Hall’ due for the Shops for the Bristol Parcels and back up with the ‘Milk’ from Westbury. On the Friday he’d been on 5014, run down, but otherwise okay, and he’d timed a run to Worcester and back without too many alarms and without causing any protest from his fireman, but it was nothing like his 5008.

He looked at 5008 standing amid other ‘Castles’ and a ‘King’ in the No.1 Roundhouse. Although she was not in steam, she shone compared with the other locos all of which showed the traces of a grey coating of ash. James had already swept the running plate and put a cloth over the cab sides and splashers to restore the gleaming paintwork. The brasswork and the copper rim around the chimney still shone from the attention paid to it because of its VIP work during the previous week. However, James had brought his own paintbrushes and cream paint from home and he proceeded to cover the inner sides and roof of the footplate. He then started burnishing the copper and brasswork inside the cab, until the whole cab sparkled in the gloom of the depot.

“Good grief, James, what on earth are you doing up there?”

Bert Henshaw, one of the other link 3 drivers, with his own engine, 7030, was looking up to 5008’s cab with some curiosity.

“You’re painting the thing? Haven’t you got a home to go to? What turn are you on today?”

James had to admit he’d come in specially.

“I admit that 7030 and I make a good partnership but I don’t moddlecoddle her like you do this engine. I reckon you pay her more attention than you do your own home. You’ll be wallpapering her next!”

Bert turned away and shrugged his shoulders as if in disbelief. The governor’s new policy was turning some of the drivers mental.

James waited until Bert had gone out of sight, then continued with his housework. In all he must have spent over three hours on the engine, before he decided to slip away unnoticed by other staff, thank heavens. 5008 was now ready for him. Pete Ashcroft was back from leave the next day and they were rostered on the first morning Worcester. He could relax at home after this effort content that all would be in place the following day.

At the end of May the Summer Timetable commenced with a number of extra turns for Old Oak men and engines. To cover the summer relief trains, especially on Saturdays, the men were offered overtime by working their Rest Days. James did not need the money, but he volunteered to work all the extra turns offered because he could not bear to think where his beloved 5008 might be sent if he was not in to keep an eye on it. He was torn for a couple of days in late June, because the Aussies were at Lords, he was tempted to take a couple of days off on the Friday and Saturday, but the roster clerk asked him to do a couple of runs to Taunton and back on weekend Minehead Butlins reliefs and promised him 5008 if he would go, so he abandoned thoughts of queuing for tickets and watched the Test Match on the BBC highlights instead. He was not too disappointed because England made a bit of a mess of the first three days, scoring only 206, despite the line up of Dexter, May, Cowdrey and Barrington, and then the Aussies replied with 340, Bill Lowry scoring a century and Trueman getting four wickets, but at a high cost for him.

On the Monday James and 5008 were back on the South Wales run, and he took his transistor radio with him to tune into the fourth day’s play. He turned the radio on as soon as they got to Cardiff, but the static was so bad that he could not pick up the score. He gathered Barrington was in, and that England was not doing well. By the time the 11.55 had arrived in Swansea, England were all out for 202, even worse than the first innings, and Australia had been set only 69 to win. Landore men relieved Pete and himself on High Street station and they went to their usual lodgings.

By the time they got there and had cleaned up sufficiently to be presentable, James expected the match to be all over. Pete went on the town, but James lay on the bed and turned the radio on, to hear roars from the crowd and an excited commentator. James perked up, the Aussies were in trouble with Trueman and Statham rampant. Four wickets were down for only 19 runs, the English fast bowlers sharing two wickets apiece. James’ hopes began to rise, was the impossible about to happen? Then Burge and Simpson slowly began to make progress, surviving a couple of lbw appeals and a couple of streaky edges for four through the slips. His optimism began to drain away. The Aussies got to fifty, less than 20 to go, then Statham got Simpson but it was too late. Another streaky four off Statham passed the target of 69 and Australia were the winners by 5 wickets. The disappointment was the worse because hopes had been raised so unexpectedly before being dashed.

He went back into town and ate a meal of soggy fish and chips, got bored and returned to the lodgings for an early night. Even though 5008 was its usual efficient self on the early London and Pete was unusually cheerful and talkative, James felt deadened, just going through the motions. It was not like him at all.

A few weeks later the roster clerk asked James if he’d work a Friday evening relief to the 5/30 ‘Mayflower’ through to Plymouth and lodge at Laira, bringing a Saturdays only Newquay train non-stop from Plymouth to London on the return.

“You can have 5008 as usual, I’ll defer the boiler washout till next week, unless you don’t want to risk it.”

“I’ll have my own engine, thank you. I’m not risking what you might foist on me.”

“Your mate has not agreed to work his Rest Day, so I’ll have to give you a spare fireman. Jim Plunkett is a youngster, but he’s okay, he’s done long runs before and had no bad reports.”

They followed the 5/30 as the 5/35 relief was a heavy train, thirteen on, over 460 tons, nearly 500 as the train was packed with holiday makers setting out early for Cornwall. The ‘Mayflower’ had a ‘Warship’ diesel hydraulic, so they were unlikely to catch his heels, and James was soon relieved that the youngster’s reputation was true, and despite the overdue boiler washout, they had no worries about boiler pressure in the early stages of the run. As they went further west, they got caught up in the usual Summer Friday evening congestion after Cogload Junction where the Bristols, Midlands and Manchester trains joined them and 5008 began to drop pressure a little before the climb to Whiteball summit, but it didn’t matter too much as they were now crawling from signal to signal behind a raft of underpowered reliefs from the West Midlands. In any case they got a pilot from Newton Abbot, and with an ex works ‘Hall’ attached in front, they made good time over the South Devon banks, as most of the Midlands trains were making for Paignton.

Arrival in Plymouth was nearly 35 minutes late though and the light was beginning to fade as they uncoupled 5008 and 5960, to be replaced by a couple of ‘Granges’ for the run to Penzance. As this was a lodging turn, they were not relieved at North Road station, but went with the engines back to Laira depot and booked off for the night.

“Sorry, we’re a bit overbooked tonight, as several of our regular landladies have gone B&B instead, it pays them better. You’ll have to make do with the hostel here. I’ve no singles left, only a double, you’ll have to take that.”

James grumbled at the clerk on duty, but there was little he could do about it. It had been a long evening and he was tired. All he wanted to do was to shower and get to bed. As he was about to be handed the key, the shedman who’d relieved him came in and spying James, said:

“You the London guy who’s just brought 5008 on shed? Didn’t you check her over at North
Road? The left hand front bogie wheel bearing is red hot. She’s a complete f***ing failure. No way you’re taking her back tomorrow.”

James panicked. He told the young fireman to go to the room while he went back to examine 5008.

“I told you she’s a failure. No point in coming to have a look.”

“She’s my engine. It can’t have got that hot. You’re exaggerating. I’d have noticed. I oiled her well before we left Old Oak.”

“Well there’s bloody smoke coming from the axle now or I’m the f***ing pope!”

James hurried to his engine, now queuing to reach the coaling stage, and found a bevy of men examining the smoking axle.

“Bloody hell!“ How could he have missed it? He nearly burned his fingers opening the oil box and lifting the pad inside out for close examination. It was clogged with dirt and gungy oil, which had obviously not got properly through to the bogie axle. White metal from the bearing was dribbling out, there was no way that engine could be made fit for the morning Newquay which was Plymouth to London non-stop. The foreman on duty came to have a look.

“She’ll have to be lifted. Just as well our factory is still taking steam, in a couple of month’s time she’d have to be patched up enough to get her to Westbury or Bath Road.” The foreman turned to James. “Didn’t you check her when you stopped for the pilot in Newton Abbot? She must have been running warm then. If you’d taken her off there it would have saved a hell of a lot of damage.”

James was kicking himself. His negligence had cost him his pride and joy. He felt wretched, he blamed himself more than those looking at the damage. He’d lose her for at least a week now, possibly longer, as Laira might not give priority to a foreign engine. He left the yard with a heavy heart and took himself back to the hostel.