Without Warning

by Darrell Maloney

  By late afternoon the pair was getting tired and headed for the exit. They had plans to meet RJ and John for dinner and drinks. Then Jordan would go back to his hotel room, call his family and hit the sack.

  One of the best kept secrets of Disneyland which all the locals know about but refuse to share is this: the park is much more fun at night.

  In the evening the heat isn’t a problem. One can’t get sunburned, and the lines are shorter.

  That’s all gravy, though. The real fun of going at night is the lights. For it’s only at night that one can appreciate the full splendor of the park. The dazzling colors, the spectacular light show, the fireworks.

  It’s a completely different experience.

  The locals know this, and seldom go in the daytime.

  As Jordan and Amy walked down Main Street U.S.A. toward the exit, he bumped into a young man named Jared Whitaker. Jordan quickly apologized to Jared and went on his way.

  Jared was holding hands with the love of his life, Cyndee Mason. As locals who lived in Anaheim, they’d just arrived at the park and were preparing to enjoy their very last visit to Disneyland.

  Or, at least the last one for awhile.

  They were planning to leave town the following day.

  The four of them never spoke, except for Jordan’s apology for his clumsiness.

  It was just one of those chance encounters which happen all the time and which no one remembers a few days later.

  But these four were destined to meet again.

  Jared and Cyndee had had enough of the animosity her parents had toward Jared.

  It was uncalled for and unfair.

  They’d done a lot of research of late, into the generations-old tradition of riding the rails.

  They knew it was something which went back as long as trains did.

  In the Wild West, when the iron horses worked their way through the Indian territories, burning chunks of wood or coal and bellowing thick black smoke into the clear blue skies… there were stowaways even back then.

  Back then they were usually shot on sight. Or, in some cases, captured and made to earn their keep.

  Usually by shoveling coal or tossing pieces of wood into the firebox.

  That was a tedious job, you see, which the engineer absolutely hated.

  Back then stowaways were mostly a nuisance and were relatively rare.

  That changed during the depression, when tens of thousands of men were suddenly unemployed with no chance of finding work.

  Word was getting out there might be work in a faraway land called California, which seemed like a million miles away.

  In reality it was only a couple of thousand, but it might as well have been on the moon.

  For those who couldn’t afford the fare west (which was nearly all of them), it became common practice to climb onto a slow-moving freight train for a free ride.

  The railroads didn’t like the practice; not at all. It was bad for their image when, on occasion, an unfortunate soul lost his grip and fell beneath the train, being cut into pieces by the wheels.

  Each time that happened it was written up quite descriptively in the local newspapers, and genteel ladies of the time weren’t kind to the railroads.

  The railroads started hiring men to ride the rails in search of the men, who took on the fanciful name of “hobos.” The “cops” were tasked to remove and deter the hobos, and that they did.

  Usually at the end of a billy club.

  Today such railway stowaways are rare but still out there.

  Cyndee and Jared had plans to join their ranks.

  -48-

  The following morning the crew, as was their practice, met in the hotel lobby at 6 a.m. for the hotel’s free breakfast buffet.

  Most hotels and motels these days offer a complimentary breakfast to their guests.

  For many chains, this consists of semi-stale muffins and bagels and cold cereal.

  This one offered eggs and waffles and ham and cheese omelets. It was one of the reasons Jordan and crew chose to stay here instead of somewhere else. They knew what the smarter people in the hospitality game also knew: it’s the little things that keep people coming back.

  Most crews didn’t get up as early as Jordan and his team after their transition day. That’s what PanAm Railways called their day off before climbing onto a new train.

  But then again, they were rather vanilla compared to most of the other crews.

  Most of the other crews went partying long into the night on their transition days. Many of the all-male crews went bar-hopping, and many of the men picked up women who went back to the hotel with them.

  The women went scurrying like roaches when the conductor came beating on their doors the next morning to wake them up.

  Some members of other crews went to work with hangovers, or still partly drunk.

  Those crews were much more likely to be visited by railroad “morale teams” the next morning.

  It was a term PanAm borrowed from the military. In the military a “morale inspection” has nothing to do with building morale. If anything it breaks down morale, for it entails snarly sergeants tearing apart the barracks looking for alcohol or drugs or other illegal contraband.

  For PanAm Railways a “morale visit” is made by company inspectors of crews coming off their transition days. They swoop in and do random drug tests and field sobriety tests to make sure their hard-partying crews are fit to go back to work.

  Those who aren’t are sometimes replaced on the spot and find themselves under suspension or out of a job.

  Jordan and his crew didn’t mind that they were referred to as a “vanilla crew.”

  In other words, other crews considered them boring, because their transition day activities tended to be more G-rated.

  Apparently word got back to the railway, because train 211 almost never got an early morning visit by one of the morale teams. They were supposedly done completely by random draw, but Jordan’s crew actually got inspected one tenth of the time some other trains did.

  It was one nice thing about being a “vanilla crew.”

  Another nice thing was Jordan’s crew was always able to get up earlier.

  Even with a leisurely breakfast, they were able to get to the yard and start their “pre-flights” long before the hard-partying crews even got out of bed.

  That meant they were ready to go sooner and were able to beat the rush out of the Los Angeles train yard.

  The Los Angeles train yard is one of the busiest yards in the country, thanks largely to its close proximity to the Port of Los Angeles. Anything that comes into the port from other countries has to be distributed once it hits land.

  Much of it leaves the port on trucks.

  But much more of it goes by rail.

  The same is true of anything being exported to other places.

  As a result, the Los Angeles train yard has much in common with the Los Angeles freeway system.

  Both are taxed to capacity.

  Both are in dire need of upgrades, but upgrades are pretty much impossible because additional land is generally not available.

  Both have peak or rush hours.

  Both suffer long delays during rush hours. Drivers sit fuming in their cars for long periods of time. Train crews stand fuming in their locomotives for long periods of time.

  Jordan and the rest of the crew of PanAm 211 typically avoided rush hour at the train yard because their vanilla habits allowed them to beat most other crews out of the yard.

  And from that respect they didn’t mind being called vanilla.

  At 6:15 a.m., Jordan pulled out his cell phone and called for transport. Everyone had their food by then, and if past experience was any indication, everyone would finish right around the time their ride got there.

  Chatter on this particular morning centered on mechanic's assistant John Capp’s sunburn.

  John met an old girlfriend the day before and went on a tour of the movie stars’ houses atop an open doub
le-decker bus.

  The tour lasted three hours in the blazing southern California sun.

  And poor John hadn’t foreseen the need for a hat.

  “Angela told me at one point I looked a little pink,” he told the others. “But I brushed it off. I told her I’d be okay. That was before it started burning.”

  Amy said, “Well, if it’s any consolation, you’re not pink anymore. You went straight from pink to red lobster.”

  She came to his rescue when she took a tube of lotion from her backpack.

  “This is actually lotion I use to take off my makeup at the end of the day,” she said. “But it’s very soothing and cooling and will make you feel better.”

  “Yeah,” chief mechanic RJ Salinas added. “And if you have any residual eye shadow or mascara left over from your date last night it’ll take it right off.”

  “Very funny,” John said.

  He started to laugh but it hurt his face to smile.

  “Actually,” he added, “It’s not so funny after all.”

  A little boy of seven or so on the other side of the lobby got their attention. He was looking out the window when he announced to his mother, with great glee, “Mom, look! That van looks just like a train!”

  The distinctive yellow van with the royal blue nose had arrived.

  They grabbed their bags and went off to start their day.

  -49-

  American intelligence operators had known for weeks something big was in the air.

  All the usual signs were there.

  Putin had stayed mostly at home, only chancing a short trip to the Mediterranean for four days at his favorite resort.

  Chinese President Xi Jinping never publicizes his activities, so no one knew if he was keeping a lower profile than usual.

  But our intelligence officers in Beijing noted a severe drop in official aircraft taking off or landing in the Chinese capitol in previous days.

  As for the little fat man with the bad haircut?

  He almost never left Pyongyang, out of fear someone might shoot him.

  It was to nobody’s surprise he kept to that routine.

  The inactivity and tendency to stay close to home is almost always the first indicator something big is about to happen on the world stage. And usually those men and governments which seem to “drop off the radar” are to be the key players in the big event.

  Beyond that, our intelligence experts usually have to rely on other factors to clue them in on the nature of the event.

  As well as who else may unwittingly or unwillingly get drawn into it.

  They watch for massive troop movements. Which armies are on the move and which direction they’re headed.

  North Korea massing troops on its southern border? That would be an easy one to guess. It would mean that Kim Jong-un was getting ready to overrun South Korea.

  Russia moving troops in the general direction of Leningrad might mean Finland was in big trouble.

  Russia’s or China’s navies all leaving whatever ports they’ve been sitting in and heading out to sea would be a big red flag.

  Especially if their submarine bases suddenly emptied out as well.

  One of the biggest clues was this: Nations who are preparing military blockades or attacks on other nations almost always recall most or all diplomats from their embassies. For to leave them there might condemn them to death or long terms in prison.

  There are a dozen other ways nations up to no good telegraph their intentions weeks, sometimes months in advance.

  But none of that was going on, other than Putin and Xi and Kim were all staying close to home and out of the camera’s eye.

  We knew something was up.

  We just didn’t know what it might be, or who the other players might be.

  Those three players: Russia, China and North Korea, have long advocated the destruction of the United States. Sometimes in public, sometimes in private.

  Sometimes by economic means, sometimes by teaming up militarily.

  They knew that they were always looked at with a suspicious eye, even when they played nice and pretended to be our friends.

  They also knew what key indicators we’d be looking for.

  They played their hands flawlessly.

  There were no massive troop movements. No armies marching here or there or anywhere.

  Their naval forces stayed in port. The ships which were already out and about stuck to their normal routines. They didn’t trigger any red flags.

  The submarines, too, didn’t deviate from their normal routine.

  The ambassadors and their staffs which had been at their posts in the three nations’ embassies six months before were more or less the same ambassadors and staffs hard at work at the same embassies as Jordan and his crew climbed aboard their locomotives on this particular day.

  In essence, their nations sacrificed them all in exchange for silence.

  It was worth a few lives, they decided, to keep the word from getting out they were going to war.

  The Chinese civilization has been around for a very long time. So it’s no surprise they are students of history.

  In the area of warfare, particularly, from the days of Genghis Khan and the mongrels to modern day “standoff” warfare: they’ve studied it all.

  They’ve seen what’s worked and what hasn’t worked and why.

  They saw the devastating affect the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor had on the United States.

  And they saw how “Operation Overlord,” or the allied landing in Normandy, later turned the tide of the war in Europe.

  The Chinese have a unique world view, which essentially says, “We’ve been around since dirt. We’ll be around forever because… well, because we’ve always been here. Therefore, we’re in no hurry. We’ll pick and choose our fights, and we’ll only go when we’re good and ready.”

  Putin and the Russians were a bit more impatient, for Putin is determined to rule the world during his lifetime. They’d have gone it alone, but Putin figured his odds of success were much better if the Chinese had his back.

  China, like Putin, saw America as weaker now than ever before in its history. Beijing agreed that now was the time to strike.

  Once the decision was made, orders were given more or less concurrently in all three of the aggressor nations.

  President Xi Jinping finished his dinner, topped it off with a glass of wine, then retired to his quarters for some deep meditation.

  Putin celebrated by toasting his war cabinet with top-shelf vodka from the Ukraine. Then he too, retired to his quarters. Not to meditate, but to dally with one of his mistresses.

  Kim Jong-un? He ordered up another plate of sugared donuts.

  -50-

  Of course, Jordan and the crew of PanAm 211 didn’t know any of that was going on when they walked the train from one end to the other and started their pre-flight checklists.

  “Pre-flight checklists” is an aviation term, as its name adequately suggests.

  U.S. Army Air Corps pilots claimed they invented the term during World War II, and that it was borrowed or stolen by commercial airline flight crews of the same period.

  The commercial guys claimed they originated the term and that Air Corps flyboys stole it from them.

  Who was right doesn’t much matter, since there are precious few still alive from either group to argue the point.

  What is clearly evident, though, is that PanAm train crews stole the term from one or the other, since they’ve been using it for decades and still use it today.

  Originally such lists were on paper, attached to a clipboard, and were called checklists because they were a list of things which had to get checked before the airplane was allowed to take off (or the train was allowed to leave the station).

  These days such paper checklists still exist in a limited number, but have mostly been replaced by an electronic version. These days the person responsible for checking each item typically uses a stylus to initial each item on a ta
blet.

  Old timers generally prefer the old version, because if a tablet fails to save the data or goes dead in the middle of a pre-flight everything is lost and has to be redone.

  About the worst that can happen to a paper copy is someone spills coffee on it.

  That’s why PanAm Railways gives its crews an option: with a caveat.

  Jordan, as the trainmaster of PanAm 211, had his crews use the old fashioned method, completing PA Form 275, “Pre-Operation Checklist.”

  But to prevent the completed checklist from being “lost” following a serious incident, Jordan had to take a photo of each page with his phone before he departed station. And he had to send each photo to PanAm headquarters before he was granted clearance to leave.

  He didn’t mind.

  He wasn’t so old that he didn’t understand the need to modernize.

  But he was old enough to miss the way the railroad used to be.

  The photos of the paper form was a fair compromise.

  Performing “the walk” from one end of the train to the other was the longest part of working the checklist.

  It was something Jordan liked to do himself, along with RJ, the chief mechanic.

  RJ stood on the catwalk of the lead locomotive, smoking a cigarette and waiting for Jordan. Jordan was inside the operator’s cab with Chase Martinez, getting briefed on the particulars.

  “One hundred seven cars, four locos,” Chase said. “A pretty good mix. Mostly dry cargo in intermodel containers. A few tankers, nothing really out of the ordinary. I’ve got the cab checks about half done, and I’m getting ready to crank her up in a few minutes. I’ll be all done by the time you get back.”

  “Okay. I talked to yard central a few minutes ago. They say everything’s running smoothly so far with no delays. Once we request a lane we’ll be rolling in just a few minutes.”

  He stepped out onto the catwalk and told RJ, “If everything goes good on our walk we’ll have LA in our rearview mirror within the hour.”

  “Well then,” the grumpy old mechanic said, “Let’s hope everything goes good on our walk.”