by P J Shannon
Drunkenness
Disobedience of orders
Misconduct of negligence
Absent from duty without leave
“These are only some of the rules that make up the Rule Book, and it will hold you in good stead if you were to study this book at your leisure and - a word of warning - ignore this book at your peril”, he said. “It also states that every employee supplied with this book must make himself acquainted with, and will be held responsible for the observance of the rules.”
After my shift was over, I went home to tell my parents the good news that I had been promoted and would receive an extra one pound ten shillings, but that my shifts would keep me out until midnight. All the family were pleased for me but were concerned about me shunting, coupling and uncoupling trains, but I was able to calm their fears by telling them that I would have lots of training and until I was fully competent I would not be allowed to undertake these duties.
On my first day I was taken to the down sidings to familiarise myself with them. Whilst I was there I was given instructions on the voltage and the dangers of the live rail and instruction on how to get it isolated in case of emergency. I was also told how to couple and uncouple bill stock, which entailed coupling and uncoupling the loose coupling and connecting the air hoses and electric cables. My training also involved knowledge of the yard layout, signals, hand signalling, lamp signalling, pulling hand points and setting roads, as well as shunting goods trains. It took several weeks before I was finally passed out.
Eventually I was a fully competent coupler and my first shift was with the 3 Charlies, and as far as I can remember I was on the downside splitting trains for Reading and Guildford without any problems.
After a couple of weeks I graduated to the upside, attaching units from Reading and Guildford to Waterloo. Several weeks passed and I was able to work as cover on the other shift with Chunky, Henry Sage and Snakey, the Station Foreman.
Snakey lived with his wife and children in one of the station houses situated next to B box. He would do a disappearing act down to the yard, returning with a pocket full of coal, then make his way home, returning with much lighter pockets. He also liked a pint or two and would often be seen dodging the Station Master via the back door of the Station Hotel and making his way rapidly under the subway to check on the carriage cleaners on number 5 platform.
Henry Sage was a well read sort of bloke, probably in his late fifties, who knew a great deal about almost everything and if you wanted to know anything, particularly about railways, you only had to ask him. He lived in South Ascot with an old landlady who used to look after him very well. Chunky always maintained that there was much more going on, but to be honest I doubt this.
Chunky used to say that in his younger days Henry was probably a knight of the road, because he always wore the same old jacket which was covered with grease from the buffers of the train. Even when he had a new uniform it was soon covered in black grease, but there was one consolation - he never needed an overcoat. I worked on their shift for a couple of weeks and one very cold night Chunky and I were sitting in the staff room which was an old shed at the Reading end of the up platform at Ascot. The stove was red hot when Henry came in from coupling up a train, and put the can of paraffin that he was carrying on to the stove. It soon began to smoulder. We didn’t say anything but Chunky was the first one to move, opening the window and baling out, quickly followed by me. Henry must have realised what he had done and retrieved the can before the staff room burnt down.
Chunky used to plague the life out of poor old Henry. One time he took his sandwiches and replaced the cheese that was in there with soap and when Henry began to eat them, he soon realised that something was amiss, so Chunky, appearing kind, took them off him and gave him his own sandwiches. On another occasion, he dismantled Henry’s cycle and hung it on the beams of the motormen’s mess room then spent an hour helping Henry to put it back together again. Chunky continued to play his little pranks on Henry for some time, moving his cycle or hiding the lamp or indeed anything that he thought was a bit of fun, but on the whole I am sure that he was very fond of Henry.
Chunky was the quickest coupler of a train that I have ever seen - he could couple a train in 30 seconds where most of us would take about a minute or even two to do the same. He was also as strong as an ox, able to jump down on the track with a trunk in one hand and put it on the other platform in one go.
I returned to my own shift and one morning when I arrived for duty I was told by Mr Davidge that the mess room had burned down the night before and wanted to know if I had any personal belongings in it. Luckily I didn’t! Arrangements were made for the platform staff to mess with the motormen and guards in a large room in the middle of platform one. The motormen I remember were Bill ‘Hoppy’ Williams, Monty Renshaw, Jack Ockley, Bill Gumm, Cliff Anvil and Sammy Rowe. The guards were men such as Jim Woods, ‘Bubbly’ Warren and John Knight. This is where I learned to play cards when I was not engaged in coupling. I would be required to hold the hand of the motorman who was needed to split or couple up the train.
Around this time I was asked by Mr Powell if I would be able to cover the Station Foreman’s job the next week as he was taking his leave. I replied that I would give it a try, but as I was only twenty, would it not be better to ask one of the senior men to do it. He told me that he had great faith in me and that with the recommendation of the Foreman he saw no reason why I should not carry out the job successfully. What could I say? I agreed to do it. For the rest of the week I followed the Foreman, learning what the job entailed, from paperwork, through ordering supplies, shunting the parcels train, to getting everyone signed on and off duty, ensuring that all the jobs allocated were carried out.
Soon the dreaded Monday arrived with a late shift start at 4.00pm. Heavy rain did nothing to encourage me. There was a little lull until 5.00pm then we worked through the busy rush hour. With a lot happening around me, I had no time to reflect on the enormity of what I had taken on. The parcel train arrived and the guard alighted and it was my turn to take it to the up sidings to couple it to the rest of the train. This was, one would think, a considerably easy task, as I had done it several times previously. The job was undertaken without any problem until the guard arrived and announced that he wanted the guard’s van reversed on the train. As it was raining cats and dogs I was reluctant to do this and told him so. He said that he would inform Control and tell them that unless I carried out his wishes he would not be taking the train forward. As I did not want to get involved with Control, I reluctantly agreed to his request, which was a big mistake. In my annoyance, I went to the rear of the train, pulled the points lever, and without checking them, gave the driver the green light to reverse the train so that I could split it and reform it in the formation required by the guard. Unfortunately, having failed to check the position of the points, the last two wagons were derailed. Back I went to the signal box to explain to the signalman what had happened, then made a phone call to Control with a long explanation of what had happened. I had to call for the on-call Station Master, Mr Corbin, to attend. He was not a happy man!
Sometime later he arrived at the signal box and asked me what had happened. I could only hold up my hands and admit my mistake. It was then decided to release the front of the train to proceed on to Feltham marshalling yard, and to get the permanent way to re-rail the two wagons the next morning and have them checked by the fitters. With all this done, he instructed me to write out my report in the same vein as I had told him. With the rain still pouring down, we returned to the station where I sat down in the Foreman’s Office and made out my report for him explaining what had happened. He took the report and left, telling me that I would hear more about the incident.
The rest of the shift went without incident, with all the lads reassuring me that unless you have a derailment you would never make a decent shunter. This was no consolation to me as I felt that I had let everybody down, especially the Station Master who
had given me the chance to prove what I could do.
As you can imagine, I did not get much sleep that night wondering over and over in my mind, ‘What if…’ The next day on arrival at work I was requested to go to the Station Master’s Office where I had to explain to Mr Powell what had happened and as he had my report in front of him I could only hold my hands up, telling him that it was my fault. I was told my fortune in no uncertain terms and he expressed his disappointment in me and told me that he would be giving me a written warning, a copy of which would be put on my file for the future. I was expecting him to say that he was relieving me from the Foreman’s position, but to my surprise, he said that he still had faith in me and I was to get on with the job, which I did.
The next two weeks went by without incident and I began to settle down, feeling that I had something to offer. Although the lads often ribbed me about the incident, I had learned a lot about being in charge for those two weeks and hoped perhaps I might get a chance to repeat the experience.
As I was on holiday the next week it would give me a chance to get away from the ribbing. Jim Teague and I had arranged earlier in the year to go to Butlins Holiday Camp in Mosney, Ireland. We had saved hard for our trip away and we were looking forward to it. This was the first time since I had left Ireland that I had made any effort to return, and it was also the first time that we had been away from our parents. On the Friday night we set off by train, firstly from Sunningdale to Waterloo, then on the Underground to Euston and then from Euston to Holyhead, where we caught the boat to Dun Laoghaire. Arriving in Ireland, we went by train to Mosney where we arrived late on the Saturday. It did not take us much time to book in and have a look around the site and sort out where all the action was.
For the next week we had a great time and made good friends with some lads from Wales and England. Going to dances and generally enjoying ourselves, we got caught out by the usual story of the cleaner’s birthday, which she had every week, and chipped in with a drink for her, but it was all part of the holiday and we didn’t mind. The week soon passed and we were back to England and work.
My next encounter in the shunting saga was when I was asked to go to Sunningdale to make a shunt move into the sidings, leave some wagons, pick up the empties and return to Ascot. “No problem,” I said. On hearing this, some of the lads inevitably embarked on a crusade of giving me some stick, but the Ascot shunter, a certain Mr Blossom Green, was prepared to give me some valuable advice. He suggested that when I got to the Dale, I should go and see Mr Glum, the signalman, and introduce myself to him. I was told that he would welcome me with a cup of tea. I should have known better, but being young and somewhat naive I arrived in good time for the shunt and proceeded to the signal box without a care in the world. I knocked on the door as a courtesy, and when it was opened by the signalman, asked if he was Mr Glum. Without further ado, he pointed to the ground and told me to get down the stairs slamming the door in my face. It then dawned on me that I had evidently said something wrong. I made my way to the bottom of the platform and waited for the train to arrive making no contact with the signalman. As soon as the train came I spoke to the guard and arranged for the train to be shunted. The signal was given for it to go in to the sidings; I dropped the full wagons in and picked up the empties, requested the signalman to give us the exit signal and went down to Ascot where Blossom was waiting. “How did you get on then?” he asked.
“You stitched me up good and proper, didn’t you? When I went up the box and asked the signalman if he was Mr Glum, I was thrown out and had to wait on the platform.”
“You pratt!” said Blossom, “he is only called Glum because he is a miserable sod!” Lesson learned by me!
Blossom was also famous for running a wagon through the goods shed doors, and for propelling a wagon over the dock at the end of Ascot sidings, causing the Station Master’s crockery in the flat above the station to smash on to the floor. He also derailed a diesel locomotive on the turntable in the yard. He was truly a force to be reckoned with! It was said that there was no shortage of firewood when Blossom was shunting.
Get Some In
Chunky had been called up to do his National Service and the place became very dull without him and I began thinking that I could do with a change myself and began to put in for some jobs on the vacancy sheet. Although I was not dissatisfied with my lot, the outside world was beckoning and I was in a rut, but this was soon to change, for it was only a matter of a few months before I too was called up for National Service on 14th October 1959 and my friend, Jim Teague, was called a couple of weeks later.
My first posting was to the 30th Signal Regiment at Catterick in Yorkshire. This was to be an experience to remember. We reported to the barracks from all parts of England. For some it was their first time away from home and we were wondering what we had let ourselves in for. We were soon to find out. We were consigned to our different units and billets and were placed under the guidance and watchful eye of a Lance Corporal - ours was probably the worst, but on saying that I suppose everybody thought the same. However, we soon settled down and after being issued with our kit we started to learn how to march in file, brasso our brasses and bull up our boots and gaiters. The daily grind of learning to march would start early every morning after breakfast and last until lunch time. This was then repeated in the afternoon until tea time, then back to the billet to bull up our equipment. It was during one of these bulling sessions that I made some witty comment to the Corporal, and was told firmly that he would make an example of me to the rest of the recruits and that I would spend the rest of my national service on jankers, starting from now by reporting to the cookhouse for fatigues every evening.
The cookhouse jankers continued and after a couple of weeks the Sergeant at the cookhouse asked me what I had done to deserve this. I explained what had happened and he advised me to keep my mouth shut and suggested that if I was going to get continual jankers would it not be better for me to become a cook instead of washing up all the time. I said that I liked the idea and I began to train to be a cook. However this did not get me out of square bashing. During my time in the cookhouse I learned everything I could about cooking and by the time my training period was over I was quite a dab hand in the kitchen.
After the passing out parade, I was posted to Middle Wallop to the Army Air Corps unit, which was only a stop-gap posting for a few weeks. On my arrival there I was sent to the military transport section to learn to drive, so my cooking skills were not required. After a few weeks I was posted to the 26th Signal Regiment at Blandford, where again I was sent to the transport section until somebody seemed to check my records and discovered that I had been a cook at Catterick. I was soon dispatched to the ordinary ranks’ cookhouse where I quickly settled in as a regimental cook. This meant that I was not part of the Army Catering Corps. Within a few weeks I had demonstrated that I was a very good cook and was seconded to the Officers’ and WOs’ mess, which was run by Sergeant Ginger Walker and two other cooks, Malcolm Calum from Yorkshire and Scouse, a lad from Liverpool. There were also a couple of waiters, Chris Hepworth who was South African, and Garcon Perrin, and a stoker named Paddy Quain, an Irish lad from down the country.
From the very start we all got on like a house of fire and worked well together and produced some really good food. As you can imagine, cooks in the Officers’ messes were really the crème-de-la-crème of the army cooks. I settled down quickly. I had my own room, time off and no square bashing. This was the life! It was very different from my Catterick days. In the morning on early turn the stoker, Quain, used to brew up and bring us all a cup of tea in our rooms. This was the most revolting substance that ever was to come out of a cup. I think that he used to stir it with a piece of railway sleeper, for it always tasted of creosote and I always threw it out of the window.
I soon got to know the Sergeants and WOs. They were quite a good bunch, most of them being regular soldiers. I particularly remember the Australian Shady Lane, Dinger Bel
l, and John Lear of the Regimental Police. John was divorced and used to bring his little boy with him at weekends when I was on duty and would ask me if I would look after him for a while and give him something to eat. I remember one weekend I needed to get the whole kitchen spick and span for a ‘surprise’ inspection. I rang JL who promptly provided me with three volunteers and escorts from the Guardroom. After a great cleaning job I asked them if they would like something to eat and one suggested a steak sandwich and a cup of tea, which I was more than happy to supply. They told me that this was the best meal that they had tasted in a very long time. To say that the cookhouse passed muster would be an understatement - it passed with flying colours.
Another time our stoker, Paddy Quain, went on leave to Scotland to see a girlfriend, but failed to return in the alloted time. He was about a week late, was put on a charge and given a fortnight in the Guardroom. We managed to get him out on trust as we relied on him for the stoking of the fires, thus demonstrating the power of the catering staff.
It was during my time at Blandford that I got the customary Dear John letter from my then girlfriend, Janet, who had met somebody else and ended our friendship. This was not something that I really needed at this time, but things happen over which one has no control, so I just knuckled down and got on with my life.
My two years were soon up and I was approached by Chris asking if I would like to go to Southern Rhodesia and work for his father who had a plantation of some kind there. I must admit that I gave this quite some thought before turning it down. I was also asked if I would consider signing on in the army for a period of three further years as the company was being posted to Canada. Again I gave this proposition some thought but decided that being in the army as a regular soldier was not for me. I was demobbed from the forces at the end of that year and returned to Ascot to resume my job on the railways.
