The Sudrians: The Archive Collection

The Engine That Was A Soldier

This, is Yorkshire, and Lancashire too. With fields that are as green as ever. With harden brick houses within urban cities and rural villages, some houses were even still from the Tudors. But it's home, and I love it. But you might be thinking, where do I live? Well, I live somewhere different from what most people would think. You see, I live where I work, and it isn't a farm, nor a workhouse, not even the army.

But a railway.

That's right, I'm an engine. And who cares? My name is James. But I was usually called Jimmy by most engines back then, and on the date of August 4th 1914, I'm pulling a goods train to the docks in Southport, near where I live.

"Oi watch it you! This isn't a racetrack!!"

And let's just say, I was trying to beat a record back then. I was pounding the rails, with 24 open wagons full of coal and ballast. Ready to be shipped off and across the world.

My wheels became blurs as I raced through a station, passing a Class 32 with a passenger service. "Hey!" yelled the Class 32. He grumbled crossly. "Engines of today," he muttered to himself.

I got closer and closer to the docks. Racing under a bridge and rattled over the points off of the mainline and to the docks.

"Nearly there! Nearly there!" I murmured. Then it happened. I forgot about the speed limit until it show'd up.

20 MPH it said.

I was going around about 40 and I came into the docks with screeching wheels and whistling fit to burst, frantically trying to control the train into stopping. I went over a turning and into a siding. I then looked onwards to see some fully-loaded coal wagons at the end of the siding. I brakednx even harder, slowing down, but not enough. I crashed into the set of wagons, making them go flying with their loads. They came back to the ground, off the rails and coal flying down across the tracks.

"Ouch," I said. I looked down to my buffer beam. Fortunately, nothing had gotten damaged. "Phew," I said in relief, "Now that. Was a close one."

"Hey! Mate!"

I looked over and groaned. A saddle tank, what looked to be a Class 23 came storming up to me on the other track.

"What's all this?" he demanded.

"I brought a train from Preston. Here for you lads here at Northport."

"Southport," corrected the Class 23, "Is this the 2:15?"

"Indeed it is!" I smiled.

"Good, you're return train won't be ready for another two hours. So clean this mess up!"

"What? Me clean all this?" I said in shock.

"Well you were the one that derailed them," replied the Class 23, "and the rest of us are as busy as it is here at Southport."

"Well you're not doing anything," I sniffed.

"That's because I need you to get your soggy little tender off of the train I need to shunt!" yelled the Class 23, "Now move it and get this mess sorted out!"

I smirked. "Why should I?"

The Class 23 gritted his teeth at me. "What's your name?"

"Jimmy."

"You listen here Jimmy, if you don't fix what you've done. I'm reporting you-"

A sharp whistle interrupted the Class 23's threat. I was glad at that. A Hughes 4-6-0 came into the docks, coming a stop right next to us.

"Hunter?" I said in surprise, "Why are you here? You don't work these parts of the lines."

"I come here with grave news my ally," replied Hunter darkly.