THE FROG THAT DIED AT DAWN
One fine Spring morning I signed on for a single manned driving turn running coal from the local collieries into Blyth Power Station, with a canny lad for guard, named Derek. The orders consisted of three trips to Lynemouth with empty HAA Merry-Go-Round sets and coal back - an easy job with fully fitted trains and so I expected the shift to last about six hours. Everything went as smooth as silk on the first trip, and we arrived at the Power in good time.
Compared to the old loose-coupled freight days, running into the power station was now an absolute doddle; once we were in the arrival road and clear, the brake was fully applied, and while Derek pinned the wagon brakes down, I changed ends and by the time the brake came back up, Derek was up in the cab, ready to run around and tie onto the next set of empties. As soon as we had tied on I got the brake up and Derek walked to the rear of the train, examining each wagon as he went. When he reached the last wagon, I quickly locked the brake valve (so the air brake pipe was not being charged with air) and this enabled Derek to test the continuity of the brake pipe by opening the tap on the last wagon. As the air 'whooshed' out I watched the brake pressure gauge fall to zero, and then reopened the brake valve to recharge the train pipe with air.
Meanwhile Derek checked that the brake pads had gone on - and, after closing the tap, checked that they had released. This was standard practice with all air-braked trains, and it was the train crew's duty to complete this task every time a new load was picked up, or a wagon attached or detached as a matter of safety.
Derek climbed up into the cab - 'Brake test okay, Freddy?'
'Okay,' I replied.
He handed me the Load Slip - 'Right, there's thirty-two HAA for Lynemouth. I'll be in the back cab having a bite to eat,' he added, then climbed down and shouted from the back - 'Rightaway.'
I acknowledged with a wave, and then moved the train slowly out of the sidings towards the weighbridge on the departure lines. As the loco clumped over the weighbridge, I drew the load forward at the regulation five mph for weighing. Ahead I noticed that Freemans Cabin had us cleared for away; the signalman was standing in the doorway, enjoying the sunrise and having a smoke.
I was almost up to the 'Clear of Weighbridge' board when I felt the slightest tug; I dropped the window to look back, but I could see nothing untoward, but when I looked ahead I saw the Freemans signalman rushing down the cabin stairs frantically waving a red flag.
'Something weird is going on here,' I muttered to myself, shut the power off and pushed the brake valve to emergency. I climbed down from the cab and heard the signalman shouting - 'Did ye not see, did ye not see? How did ye not see?'
'Did I not see what?' I called back.
'The last two wagons!' he cried out.
I turned and looked - 'What's the matter with 'em? They look all right to me.'
'Noo, no, no… them's not the last two wagons, I saw them rolling over!'
'Whadjameen rollin' over? If they'd rolled over, I'd have seen 'em!'
'I'll show you,' he said.
So we both walked quickly to the rear of the train...I couldn't believe my eyes! The last but one wagon was lying on its side; it had obviously been dragged like that from the weighbridge, but I hadn't been able to see it due to the fact that the last wagon was upside down, holding the second but last wagon on its side out of my view. It said a lot for the strength of the Instanter Couplings, but how the brake pipes had not parted was beyond my comprehension. On closer inspection, the right side of the weighbridge had collapsed, and it looked as if the last two wagons had been catapulted out of the hole by the elasticity of the sixty drawbars in front of them.
Anyway, whilst we were walking back to the loco, I noticed the squashed corpse of a frog on the top of the rail between two wagons; its head and forelegs dangling pitifully over the forefoot side, its back legs hanging by a shred of flesh over the off side.
When we got back to the loco, I acquainted Derek of the problem on the weighbridge and the signalman went to inform the Brains Trust (nickname of the hierarchy at Control) of the situation, returning several minutes later with the news that the Area Manager's assistant was on his way to take charge of the situation. When the assistant arrived in the distance, I was relieved to see it was the same young chap who'd accompanied old John and myself on the snowplough trip. He took one critical look at the damaged weighbridge, then stormed towards me demanding to know what had happened…
Now, it's not in my nature to treat a railway accident in a flippant manner, but it was fairly obvious what had happened; moreover the assistant Area Manager was a nice enough young chap in an odd sort of way, but he was an infuriatingly opinionated individual who had some very strange ideas about man management, which inevitably grated on everyone's nerves. For instance, someone carelessly left a tap dripping in the Cambois washroom, or 'ablutions' as the young assistant preferred to call it, and this had angered him no end. Within minutes of finding out, he stuck a notice above every washbasin with detailed instructions on how to turn the taps off…
'Well!' he demanded - 'How did this lot happen?'
Perhaps I should have picked another time to wind him up; I told him that we had run over a frog...
He gawped at me in disbelief - 'A frog!'
'Aye, it's dead,' I said solemnly, then went on to explain that I was deeply distressed about it; that I could identify with the frog because it had come out on a lovely morning, jumped up on the rail to get a better view; sitting there minding its own business, planning the events of the day and without any warning, it gets flattened by a train.
He glared at me - 'Get on the friggin' engine!' he ordered, and stomped off back to the rear of the train at a fast pace.
'I can show you the frog, if you like?' I called after him.
I swear his stride never faltered, but I'm sure I heard him shout - 'FROG OFF!'