False Starts, Near Misses and Dangerous Goods

by Geoff Body

  An old lady living in a bungalow just south of the level crossing agreed to the use of her telephone for emergency communications; the guard of the train had already protected the rear and the locomotive second man the front. The guard’s journal showed forty-nine wagons but a count down the wreckage could only account for forty-six. We then found two adjacent wagons, one of which was attached to its neighbour but buried with only the top 6in visible. Where was the forty-ninth wagon? We eventually found it crushed between two tipplers and reduced to a total width of 18in!

  The cause of the accident lay with the nineteenth wagon. The axle was in two parts and had been detached from the frame and tossed to the side of the track. It took nearly three days to clear up the whole mess and repair the track, and yet another day before it was safe enough to turn off the burning gas and replace the fractured main.

  Lincoln St Marks station looking towards Boultham Junction where the avoiding line diverges south to cross this main road into Lincoln city centre.

  The fire service also attended a derailment that occurred at Crowle one autumn weekend. After weekend engineering work replacing a crossover just west of the station, the first train to pass on the Monday morning was one from Ince & Elton–Normanby Park conveying eighteen loaded 100-ton French-built tank wagons loaded with liquid ammonia under a pressure of 20psi and destined for the Flixborough agricultural fertiliser works. In the middle of the train the rear bogie of one wagon had derailed in the crossover and become buffer locked with the adjacent tankers.

  The Immingham 36-ton crane was despatched immediately to the site, with the Doncaster 75-ton crane arriving there some 50 minutes later. The lie of the derailed tanker prevented the Immingham crane being able to reach and lift it, so the smaller crane was returned to base after removing the buffers from one end of the tanker so that the adjoining ones could be drawn clear. The Doncaster crane did a similar job at the other end to allow a spreader beam to be placed under the buffer beam, as these tankers had no through underframe.

  The task of lifting the tanker began but had to be abandoned when the spreader frame started to bend. Instead 50-ton jacks were set up on packing on either side of the tanker and a successful lift was achieved. What to do next? The decision was taken to remove the jack on one side to allow the bogie to sink down to near rail alignment and then rebuild the packing with a final lift to rerail. It became clear that knocking out the supporting jack might not be easy, but among the Doncaster breakdown crew there was a large and tall man weighing 18 stone whose personal strength had been used before in such situations. He was to take the big, long-handled, heavy hammer and take a mighty swing at the jack. The Crowle fire-service team leader who was on spot was consulted and he advised his team of the position and told them that if anything went wrong they should dive into the deep drain on the left of the running lines or the Sheffield–Keadby canal on the right!

  The decisive moment came and we all stood back, the firemen retreating to a safe distance to watch the event. Walter, the strong man, took the hammer, swung it fiercely and the left-hand jack flew out. The bogie of the tanker settled down to within an inch of the rail. We glanced up to see all the firemen, except the leader, sprinting as fast as they could go towards Crowle station. Afterwards they expressed their views as to the sanity of the assembled railwaymen!

  A simple lift and the tanker was back on the rails. The permanent-way inspector had done his measuring and determined that the relayed crossover was ‘tight to gauge’, causing the derailment. Carefully the damaged vehicle and the rear end of the ammonia train were drawn clear of the crossover by a Class 47 locomotive and taken slowly back to Crowle station to await further examination, and the tension slowly drained from those involved.

  MORE DERAILMENTS

  Although no longer his direct responsibility in Scotland, David Barraclough still attended a number of derailments

  In between my time at Wath in 1961–62 and my return to the Doncaster Division in August 1968 I spent three years in Glasgow based in the Hope Street operations hub of the division, and was occasionally able to attend incidents in the more rural parts of the territory. One such incident was a derailment at the trap points off the branch from Muirkirk behind the signal box at Auchinleck in Ayrshire. The Ayr Harbour–Falkland Junction trip to Kaimes Colliery at Muirkirk was returning behind a Class 25 locomotive with a full load of export coal but failed to stop at the trap points protecting the Glasgow & South Western Main Line, derailing the locomotive and three wagons.

  As we approached the scene a colliery ‘Pug’ shunting locomotive was seen proceeding back towards Muirhead bunker and hauling ten or so loaded coal wagons – very strange! What became clear was that it had become the practice for the morning trip to clear all the loaded wagons from the colliery if by doing so a second trip in the afternoon could be avoided. This had meant that the derailed working was eight wagons over the maximum loading, resulting in the driver being unable to halt his train as it approached the main line.

  As soon as the mishap occurred the signal box had advised the pit, which had then promptly sent the Pug down with the intention of clearing the excess wagons from the rear of the casualty in order to hide the evidence of overloading. But it was not quick enough over the 12 miles from Kaimes to Auchinleck box and, in any event, there would have been nowhere to hide those offending wagons and so the story came out!

  Not too long later, in early 1967, there was another incident in the same area, this time along the line from Newton-on-Ayr–Mauchline Junction, which had a long branch from Annbank Junction–Killoch Colliery. The latter’s daily order for ‘Minfits’ (16-ton vacuum brake-fitted coal wagons) could be as high as 360 wagons and it was the new practice to concentrate all of these wagons there as was possible. By the Saturday before the accident Killoch was full of such wagons.

  On the Monday the Falkland Junction trip was returning down the gradient of the branch towards Annbank headed by two Class 20 locomotives and with a full load – mostly loaded Minfits plus a few unfitted 16-tonners (residue from the previous week) – at the rear. The driver braked on the approach to Annbank but, unfortunately, forgot that most of his train was piped up to the locomotives giving him considerable braking capacity. This resulted in his train stopping dead within a very short distance, much as if it had hit a cliff head on. Wagons, both fitted and unfitted, jumped all over the place, mostly not on the rails, and quite a few finished upside down or on their sides.

  The driver held his hand up for the chaos he had caused and it took two days to clear things up. The new working arrangements went well thereafter and within weeks we were able to introduce two trains a day, with Ayr men working through Glasgow to Cadder yard with fully fitted loads of coal for Edinburgh, Stirling, Perth and the north via the City Union link, which had never before in its many years been used for regular through traffic movements.

  Lastly, something completely different. At Corpach, just beyond the Caledonian canal and just outside Fort William on the line to Mallaig, Wiggins Teape Ltd had established a pulp mill which, in addition to its normal incoming timber traffic, also received 45-ton, two-axle tanks of fuel oil for the works.

  One lunchtime the area manager at Fort William rang the Hope Street office to say that one of these oil tanks had imploded and become derailed in the mill sidings. What to do? We called in our Carriage and Wagon colleagues and they set out to investigate. They discovered that the mill shunter had failed to release the air valve on the tank. As a result, as the oil was being discharged to the static storage tank, the suction action drew the body of the tank inwards with the resulting imbalance causing one pair of wheels to come off the track.

  Not Ayrshire, but a typical derailment presenting one easy re-railing job, but with those beyond the ‘Stop’ board presenting more of a challenge.

  The re-railing was effected but the damaged tank had to be cut up on site for scrap, with Wiggins Teape making a financial settlement to its owners and the fuel oil supp
liers. Not the usual type of mishap though.

  IT CAN NOW BE REVEALED

  Being helpful is not always without its problems, as Philip Benham discovered at York

  As one of Britain’s most impressive large stations, York has often been used as a period film set. It featured in the 1979 film Agatha about the disappearance of the famous crime writer Agatha Christie, and more recently was used for scenes in one of the ‘Harry Potter’ films, masquerading as King’s Cross no less.

  In 1983, while I was area manager, the station was also chosen for a sequence in the film The Dresser. With a star cast including Albert Finney, Tom Courtney and Edward Fox, the plot was based around a travelling theatre company during the Second World War. York’s part was to play another station (I was told it was supposed to be Carlisle) where the troupe were changing trains, leading to one of the film’s most memorable lines uttered by Albert Finney, ‘Stop that train!’

  Quite a bit of advance work was needed to prepare the location and secure appropriate carriages that could be made to look the part, and also to hire a couple of LMS Railway steam engines – Pacific Duchess of Hamilton and ‘Black 5’, No. 5407. A couple of lightly used platforms in the ‘Scarborough corner’ at the north-east of the station were allocated for the filming, well out of harm’s way. These were also conveniently close to ‘Tearoom Square’ where the film crew could park their vehicles and set up catering facilities – well over a hundred extras were being hired in addition to the cast and production team, so feeding was a big issue. George Hinchcliffe from the Carnforth Steamtown preservation centre had been appointed to liaise between the film team and the railway, and I asked the York station manager Jim Collins to look after the operational arrangements. Meanwhile the film company had acquired a number of withdrawn Mark 1 coaches and engaged a painter who spent many days repainting them into LMS maroon to fit the film’s period.

  Come the morning for the filming, everything seemed set up. The coaches had been placed in one of the bay platforms the day before, the two steam locos had arrived from the National Railway Museum where they had been lit up and prepared, the extras had arrived in a couple of road coaches and the cast were ready. There was even a chair with the words ‘Albert Finney’ on the back! The plan was to load the cast and the extras into the coaches, which the ‘Black 5’ would then propel out of the station to the River Ouse Bridge on the Scarborough line. It would then draw back into the station as an arriving train, with the extras creating the scene of a crowd of passengers getting off the train after it had stopped.

  In my office the phone rang, it was Jim. ‘Would you come over to the station, as there is a slight problem?’ Across I went to hear that it had just been discovered that none of the carefully painted coaches had any working brakes as, being withdrawn for scrapping, all the vacuum pipes and other brake equipment had been removed. This was indeed a big problem, as it is a fundamental rule stretching back to the nineteenth century that passenger trains must have automatic brakes controlled from the locomotive.

  So what was to be done? BR had sold the coaches to the film company and, of course, was also being paid handsomely for their services. While there seemed to have been some breakdown in communication, it was clear that if filming could not take place then there was to be a huge amount at stake. Actors, extras, all would have to be stood down, while rescheduling could take weeks, bearing in mind the need to obtain more carriages and dovetail with the diaries of the actors. Quite apart from the cost, the production schedule for the whole film would be thrown into disarray.

  ‘Coronation’ 4-6-2 locomotive No. 6229 Duchess of Hamilton stands in the ‘Scarborough Corner’ of York station with the coaches used in the film The Dresser. (Philip Benham)

  After a hasty conference with Jim, George and Regional Public Affairs who had let the film contract, I agreed that as we were talking about one low-speed movement of less than a ¼ of a mile the film sequence could take place under certain conditions. In particular the driver was to be instructed to take great care, proceeding at little more than walking pace as he drew the train into the station. The film director was to understand that there would be one take only, so his cameramen had better get it right first time.

  Everyone was duly briefed and the train sent back. Cameras were in position, the director gave the nod for the train to start, the driver whistled acknowledgement for the tip from the guard and opened the regulator on No. 5407. Observing from the platform Jim and I saw a huge column of smoke emerge from 5407’s chimney as the train eagerly leapt forward. We looked at each other nervously, fearing trouble. The train entered the platform at a speed which to me suggested a liberal interpretation of the words ‘walking pace’. It kept on coming until the speed finally began to drop, but unfortunately not quite fast enough, as the engine reached the end of the line and nudged into the buffer stops with a bang. Having checked that no one was hurt, down on to the track Jim and I both went to see if there had been any damage. The engine appeared fine, but the buffer stops had been moved a few inches and were severed from the rails.

  For my part I felt distinctly uncomfortable, but the film director had what he wanted, so hopefully that would be that. Unfortunately I hadn’t counted on Miles Kington being there, a journalist who at the time wrote a regular humorous column in The Times. About a week after the incident his next piece appeared under the heading ‘Waiting for Train’. ‘I have just seen a real train crash at York,’ he started, going on to describe in embarrassing detail what had happened, including reference to the ‘two fat controllers in bowler hats’ who had gone down to have a look (actually Jim is rather slim).

  Ready for her part in The Dresser film, Stanier ex-LMS 4-6-0 No. 5407 is pictured in front of the buffer stops she was later to unseat. (Philip Benham)

  This was alarming, especially as daily press cuttings from all the papers were circulated to the regional headquarters senior officers. An urgent call was made to Regional Public Affairs Manager Bert Porter. Fortunately when General Manager Frank Paterson picked up the item it was to Bert that he directed a query, who was able to tell him, ‘Don’t worry, General Manager, it’s all been dealt with.’ Had the question gone to the regional operations officer, his response might have been rather different!

  There was an interesting sequel. One of the other scenes involved the theatre troupe being filmed running over the station footbridge. Clearing the footbridge of all passengers during the working day had been quite a logistical challenge, as were the special effects to create an impression of smoke and steam. Some months later when the film was released, a number of us were invited to a special screening at the National Museum of Photography, Film and Television in Bradford. We eagerly awaited the station scenes and then watched with interest as the troupe made their wartime dash over the footbridge just as an InterCity High Speed Train passed by underneath!

  THE PAY RUN

  What seemed like an easy job for Ian Body didn’t quite turn out that way

  In the mid ’70s I had a period in the management team based at Exeter St David’s, and being relatively young and naïve I was unanimously chosen to undertake the weekly pay run. This was an activity carried out every Thursday, primarily to distribute pay for those members of staff who could not receive theirs from a booking office or from the central pay office at Exeter. Thus it was largely built around a variety of far-flung signal boxes and smaller stations. At the outset it seemed like a rather cushy number – being given the company Mini for a few hours and being let loose in the pleasant Devon countryside – how hard could that be?

  On the first occasion of going out my initial cause to draw breath was when I collected the wage packets for which I would be responsible for during the next few hours. I had overlooked that each delivery point would receive wage packets for all three shifts and for all staff based there, together with some other groups of staff who chose to use them as their collection point. This meant that some eighty wage packets were involved which, at today’s
values, would represent at least £50,000! When the accounts clerk said ‘sign here’ my signature was somewhat more shaky than normal.

  The second element of surprise was being sent round to the stores office before departure. I had glibly assumed that ‘pay run’ meant just that – but oh no! My delivery round was the only way to distribute the myriad of tools and domestic items that kept the outlying locations running, so gradually the Mini began to resemble the classic game on Crackerjack where contestants had to hold on to everything they won. Everything from broom handles, lamp wicks, signalmen’s dusters, detonators, collars, flags and Bardic lamps to pencil sharpeners, receipt books, carbon paper, letter spikes and coal scuttles found their way into the car’s small boot and the back seat. Add in the weekly operating notices for each calling point and I was ready to go.

  I had been bright enough to have spent some time in advance working out a suitable route to ensure that I could arrive at my last point of call just before 2 p.m. to avoid missing the early turn staff and incurring their wrath as they waited for me and potentially missed their lunch.

  So off I went. First stop Exminster signal box to the west to get this out of the way quickly before turning back east and heading for Whimple, Feniton and then Honiton. At this point it then required a longer driving stint to Cowley Bridge Junction where the Barnstaple branch left the West of England Main Line. Then it was north to Crediton with my route planning working faultlessly. But next on the list was Salmon Pool Crossing with wages and provisions for the crossing keeper. What on paper should have taken about 20 minutes in fact took just over an hour with visits to far more farm tracks, dead ends and even quite deep fords than I had intended. Now I was really up against it as far as Tiverton Junction was concerned for that critical 2 p.m. arrival.