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14: The Trouble With Jim As time went by I noticed a pattern to the drivers I worked with. With some I could go weeks without anything untoward happening; with others all sorts seemed to happen. With Jimmy Jackson for instance, another ex Burton man who'd spent some years at Saltley before arriving at Coalville. Whenever Jim and I were booked on together something seemed bound to happen. Jim was a decent sort, but he had a habit of grumbling at you for the least little thing. Nor was he the only one. Much of it was down to generation gap. You had youths spending all their whole working day with men old enough to be their dads (or even granddads!). But it worked most of the time. These older men had been lads themselves, so they knew what it was like for us. As far as his outlook on life and the railways Jim was typical of his era. His catchphrase was 'who's fetching the chips?' He always parked his beaten-up Ford on top of the slope of the dock (loading road). When asked why he always parked in the same spot he told us that his battery was on its way out - a condition it must have been in for many years! One week Jim and I were booked together on the 07.41 Rugeley, which had been diverted on certain days to Drakelow. On a damp and misty Monday morning we left the west end sidings bound for the power station. I was beginning to get itchy feet and I told Jim that I intended to put my name down for jobs at the power station and at the local breweries. One of the gaffers at the power station was Harold Wildgust, driver of the last Tutbury Jinny and a friend of Jim's since their days at Burton loco. 'You want to go and see Harold,' Jim advised me. 'If they're after people he'll get you in.' As we approached the dip at Tugbys he applied the brakes, but with the wet and greasy rails our loco picked her wheels up and we slid through at almost twice the 20 mph speed limit. The loco rolled from side to side, making us most uncomfortable. After putting down sand, taking the brake off and then reapplying it Jim managed to bring us down to the correct speed. On reaching Drakelow I went off to find Harold. He took down my details and promised to let me know if anything came up. But it turned out they were actually laying men off, so I never did get a job there. The next day saw us heading for Rugeley. As usual, we had to wait for a path between Lichfield and Armitage Junction. Four or five expresses were due through before we could go, so to pass the time I scaled the embankment to have a nose around the field at the top. To my surprise it contained some of the biggest mushrooms I'd ever seen. I called down to Jim and our guard, and the three of us were soon filling our sandwich bags with them. After we'd got all we wanted we returned to the engine just as the signalman pulled off. The following day found us Rugeley-bound again, this time with an extra passenger on board. Coalville shunter Alfie Lichfield had the job of covering Cadley Hill colliery. The regular shunter, Bud Abbot, was off for some reason and the busy pit needed manning. As usual we had to put up with Alfie's moaning. 'Why is it always me?' he grumbled. 'There's plenty of other blokes.' After we let Alf off at Swadlincote Junction, Jim gave our Class 56 full power. Just as I took a cheese sandwich out of my bag and bit into it there was a loud bang from the engine room. 'What the blazes...?' We'd only got up to 25 mph when it happened. The power went straight away. Red fault lights came on and the cab was filled by oily black smoke. After opening the windows and doors to get rid of it we came to a stand at DY 126 signal, the one that protects and allows trains into Drakelow. 'It don't look good at all,' said Jim. 'Go and tell Derby it looks like we're a failure. I'll check her out.' The signalman put the peg back to danger and told me to keep him posted. I got back to the loco to find the engine ticking over in a very sickly manner. The body shook from side to side on its bogies. Jim was a conscientious sort, so I wondered why he hadn't shut it down. I would have done. Then again, it was nothing to do with me. It would be unheard of for a young driver's assistant to tell an old hand what to do. 'I'd better shut it down and take a look,' said Jim. With that he disappeared into the engine room carrying his Bardic hand lamp and shut the door. I stood and waited, feeling awkward at having nothing to do. A couple of minutes later he emerged. 'I can't see anything. You go in and have a look.' Delighted to be involved, I took his hand lamp and went into the fume-filled engine room. Immediately my feet felt hot. Shining the beam down I saw they were bathed in hot black oil. In the aisle of the engine compartment large pistons, con rods and other damaged pieces lay everywhere. 'I don't think we'll chance restarting her,' said Jim when I re-entered the cab. I think it was sarcasm. Jim was a bit of a joker sometimes and had a strange sense of humour when things went wrong. Half an hour later an engine came out of the power station to drag us in. The same one then took our dead 56 back light to Coalville. 'New engine job there,' said the shed man. 'It'll cost them, that's for sure.' Indeed it did: 56042 was bound for a long spell in Doncaster works. * Some time later they started to run some night 'Rugeleys' again. Jim and I were booked together for a week on one. 'Where's your Bardic lamp?' said Jim as we walked to our engine one night. 'You know you should carry it whilst on duty.' I had no excuse. It was still in my locker. Looking across at Jim I saw that he didn't have a lamp either - that's why he'd got annoyed with me. ''Where's yours then?' I asked. 'That's not the issue,' he snapped. We had with us that bitterly cold night a young guard by the name of Nigel Folgate who'd passed out just a few weeks previously. 'I've got my lamp, Jim,' he piped up. 'Excellent, Nigel. You can't get these secondmen motivated to do anything,' he added with a grin that typified his odd sense of humour. Our journey was uneventful and we backed down into the plant. As one train was already being unloaded we stood down the bottom behind a dolly awaiting our turn. Time for a cuppa! What could be more cheering on such a bitter night when the frost lay so thickly? As soon as the mashing can had boiled I popped in three tea bags and lifted the cab-to-cab phone to tell the guard. 'Just mashed, Nigel.' 'Thanks. I'm on my way.' A minute later Nigel climbed through the cab door and handed me his mug. As I began pouring the tea there was a loud thump right behind me. I turned to see our guard lying unconscious on the cab floor! 'What the...?' Jim and I leapt from our seats and frantically tried to bring him round. 'Tony, phone the plant control and tell them what's happened.' I opened the cab door and slid down the icy handrails. Grabbing the phone I willed them to answer straight away. I tried desperately not to panic. 'Control room...' 'This is the second man of the train standing down the bottom. Our guard's been taken ill. Can you get someone to us straight away.' 'Right,' he said. 'Our first aider's on his way. I'll call an ambulance as well.' Back at the loco I found Nigel still on the floor. Jim had loosened his collar and was feeling his forehead. 'He's breathing alright. Are they sending someone?' I told him what the control room operator had said. Having done everything we could think of we sat and waited. It seemed like ages. Then I saw headlights moving towards us in the fog. 'They're coming!' Moments later two plant workers climbed aboard with a first aid box. 'How long's he been out?' asked one. 'Has he come round at all since it happened?' We told him all we could. He asked us the guard's name and called it out several times. Nigel's eyelids began to flicker, then he opened them and his eyes rolled in their sockets. His head lolled from side to side, then his eyes opened fully and in the dim light I could see him trying to focus on us one by one. 'Do you ache anywhere?' asked the first aid man. 'Have you banged your head or any other part of your body?' Nigel shook his head. Rubbing his eyes he sat up and buried his face in his hands. 'What happened?' he asked in a muffled voice. 'I just came in from the back cab to have a cup of tea when... I can't remember. Everything just went black.' 'Seems like you fainted,' said the first aid chap. 'It was getting out of one hot cab, going out in the freezing night, then coming back in this hot cab. We'll take you to the rest room and keep an eye on you for a bit. If you're alright when your train leaves you can go back with your mates.' 'We'd better cancel the ambulance as well,' said the other one. With that they lifted Nigel back to his feet and helped him down the steps before taking him off in their van. Jim and I glanced at each other and then at the empty mug. After we had finished unloading we ran round our train with the intention of contacting the depot for orders. 'They'll either send another guard out or we'll have to back these into a siding and go back light engine.' Just then the plant workers' van appeared and dropped off Nigel. He looked much better and was well enough to accompany us back home. I saw to the ground frames and couplings for him. It had been a long night and the three of us were glad to be back at Coalville. Neither of us could guess at the time, but Jim and I would be involved with illness again. Unfortunately, this time it would be Jim's... It happened when Jim and I were together once again on a Rugeley job. This time it was daylight and we were accompanied by our usual guard and a younger trainee guard. After unloading about three parts of the train Jim began to complain of stomach pains, which gradually got worse as we got towards the last wagons. 'I'm not going to be able to drive like this,' he told me. 'You're going to have to do it. Come and get in the chair.' I was happy to drive, but the route could be a problem. Our way back was a relatively new one to us - via the mid Cannock branch to Walsall, run round on the goods line at Ryecroft Junction, then back via Brownhills and Lichfield. Coalville drivers had only just learned it, and they tended to do the driving themselves until they got to know the route better. There weren't many second men - including me - who knew the route at all. Just then the cab door opened and the young trainee appeared. Seeing me in the driver's chair he naturally handed me the drivers slip. 'The guard says you can go when you're ready,' he said. 'And he says, can I ride up front to look over the road?' Jim seemed to be getting worse and his load groans made the young guard think twice about joining us! 'Look, Jim,' I said, 'you can't go back like that. Let's call help. Anyway, I don't know the road.' Maddened by pain he stared at me angrily. 'I'm not going to any hospitals around here,' he snapped. 'You'll be alright driving. Just take your time.' The signal came off one yellow and we set off. I drove as safely as I could. Jim would be of no help to me - by now he on the floor holding his stomach. (Then he disappeared into the engine room and lay across the second man's seat.) Anything it seemed to try and alleviate the pain. The young guard looked at me for reassurance but I could give very little. Having to get us to Ryecroft in one piece I could have done with a little moral support myself and wished our proper guard could be with us. We finally made it to the signal before Walsall tunnel, where we had to uncouple and run round. The guard climbed aboard. By now Jim was trying to sleep to escape the pain. Our guard had been oblivious to the situation until then. 'What shall we do?' he asked. 'Wait till we drop in behind the signal to change ends,' I said. 'Then you go on the phone and ask the signalman to call an ambulance.' Jim must have been catnapping as he suddenly turned round and shouted at us. 'I've told you once, there's no way I'm going into hospital here. I'll go to Burton or not at all.' So that was that. The young trainee returned to the back cab and I couldn't really blame him. It comforted me to have an older hand guard present. After the run round we headed back across the South Staffs. Jim had managed to change ends with us whilst in the platform but refused any other help. He managed to drop off again and with an air of confidence, I drove the train towards Burton. Jim awoke again at Barton under Needwood. 'Shall we call someone now we're getting close to Burton?' I asked. 'I'm feeling a little better,' he said. 'Thanks all the same. Just you carry on to Coalville now.' Jim seemed to improve as we made our way up the branch. As usual we were relieved on the boards by another crew. Jim said he'd be alright to drive back to Burton and thanked me for what I had done. The next day I heard that he'd gone into hospital - to have kidney stones removed! It was a couple of weeks later before I saw him again, in the mess room at Coalville. 'I was hoping to see you today, Tony. Wait there, I won't be a second.' He went off and came back a few moments later with a large box of mixed fruit. 'That's for helping me out when I needed it. Thank you.' |