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The following was OCRed (and not fully checked for recognition
errors!) from TRACTION February 1995 (article by Harry Friend) -
WHO SAID "I remember as if it were yesterday"? Oh yes, Stevenson
(Robert Louis, not the railway one) in the opening words of Treasure
Island. It may be ten years ago now, but I'm hardly likely to forget
the present we received from the Derby Technical Centre on,
appropriately enough, a Friday the thirteenth.
My old boss, Reg Charlton, was partly to blame, for getting me the
job of Traction Inspector back in 1978. He was quite a thorn in the
side of management and was eventually 'kicked upstairs' to York
Headquarters as the Chief Traincrew Officer of the Eastern Region.
I'd risen to Chief by that time and, with Reg's departure, now worked
for the Newcastle Traincrew Officer, Alan Hunn. There were two other
Traction Inspectors and the four of us worked out of tiny offices at
Newcastle Central station.
We were responsible for nine depots - Gateshead, Thornaby, Tyne Yard,
Hartlepool, Darlington, Blyth, South Dock, Consett and Berwick. We
travelled all the Eastern Region roads, from Edinburgh to Kings
Cross, and to Carlisle, Middlesbrough, Whitby, and so on. If I tell
you there used to be five Traction Inspectors at Newcastle, you'll
gather that there was far too much work for us to cope with in 1984.
We were supposed to ride with every driver from all nine depots at
least once a year. This was impossible, and management knew it,
because we also had to pass out drivers on all kinds of traction,
teach them the rules and regulations, and instruct every MP12 trainee
on Class 47s for two days! We never stopped, but all three of us
tried to be as through as possible because, if you aren't, standards
invariably suffer. Matters came to a head on Friday the thirteenth of
July when one of my inspectors, Bob Blackburn, announced that he was
off on a fort- night's holiday. That only left me and my junior,
Colin Johnson. I'd been down to Thornaby that day, passing out three
drivers on the Class 56. As the last of our normal working week,
Friday should have been Poets Day and, by 4.30, I'd finished my
reports on the three drivers and was about to push off for the
weekend when Alan Hunn strode into my office, smiling broadly. "I've
just come back from a meeting and found these on my desk, Harry." He
brandished a set of
papers. "Look them over, will you? We should be able to manage with
just one inspector... you." Then he looked apologetic. "Oh, by the
way, its 12 days' night shift starting on Sunday." "Oh aye?" I said
warily, as all thought of a relaxing weekend with my wife evaporated.
After studying the papers more closely, Alan realised we'd actually
need two inspectors, which was lucky because there were only the two
of us left! It also became clear that the shifts would last for ten
hours.
The report from Derby was very detailed - two Class 37s working in
multiple would, with special dispensation from the Maintenance
Engineer, run up to 100 mph slip-coupled to an 8-coach APT set. The
APT would, of course, be unpowered, as we didn't have the overhead
juice at that time (why us, then, you may ask?!) The APT had already
run trials on the West Coast between Euston and Glasgow, with the
vehicles canting at speeds up to 140 mph. To get power to the brakes
and air-conditioning for our trials, a small diesel engine would be
installed behind the driver in the APT's cab. A research team from
Derby, led by a man called Clive Turner, would camp out in a hotel
near Heaton carriage sidings for two weeks, along with four Polmadie
drivers with APT traction knowledge who would work three days each.
As for the Class 37s, a Gateshead spare link driver, with a
secondman, would take charge of the multiple locos with a Newcastle
guard. Furthermore, the Polmadie men would only be at the APT
controls between Darlington and York but, even so, a Darlington
driver would be needed to conduct them! (Are you still with me?) My
position would be with the Gateshead driver in the Class 37 cab, the
other inspector in the leading APT cab with the driver and conductor.
Enter Colin Johnson, who had already gone home and knew nothing about
any of this. I rang him that night and delivered the bad news. He was
a good bloke and immediately said he would cancel his plans and go
straight to Heaton by car on the Sunday night. Alan Hunn had already
agreed to cover both our normal jobs for the fortnight!
We used seven Class 37s in all, but the 'pairs' were mixed up each
night. Some were good, some moderate and one pair really bad! Their
working diagram was as follows:
Arrive Depart
Gateshead depot 00.30
Heaton C.S. 00.45 01.00 (haul)
Darlington 01.40 02.15 (propel)
York 04.00 (slip) 04.15
Northallerton 05.30 (slip) 05.45 (haul)
York 06.15 06.30 (slip)
Northallerton 07.30 (slip) 07.35 (propel)
Eaglescliffe 08.15 08.30 (haul)
Newcastle 09.30 09.35
Heaton C.S. 09.45 stable APT
At the points marked, having run up to 100 mph propelling the APT
set, the slip coupling would be released, the locos would be braked,
sending the APT off on its own unpowered, rather like shooting it out
of a cannon! As the Gateshead driver would be their spare link, I
expected a different man every night and I was almost right. I got
the same two working two nights each but, in all, I had to explain to
ten different drivers what was involved in the tests. None of these
spare link drivers were mugs and the same question emerged every time
they read the working instructions. In the following locos, we would
inevitably have to pass the next red light the APT in front would
have activated, That was bad enough but, if the APT encountered a red
light, its air brakes would stop it much quicker than we could
manage. The drivers' verdict was unanimous: "No way, Harry, we'll get
flattened!" They were right; the 37s would have no chance, even if we
spotted the stationary APT ahead through the darkness. To set their
minds at rest, I promised to take up the matter with Clive Turner
before the runs began.
On the Sunday night I arrived at a silent Gateshead depot and found
that Jamey was on duty in the Foreman's Office. He seemed surprised
to see me. "What's up?" I said, "haven't you got the special papers?"
He went pale. Right in front of him on the desk was the unopened
envelope containing the engine diagrams. He read them at once and
reacted very swiftly indeed! His board showed him he had six Class
37s on the depot, but four were down for fitter attention during that
night. The two available were at opposite ends of the yard, buried
amongst other dead diesels. Jamey sprang to his feet, rounded up the
two shed enginemen and, between the four of us, we moved more than a
dozen locos before we eventually got the two 37s together, One of the
second men, whose job it was to multiple the locos, wasn't bothered
at all. "Not my job, mate. You'll need the shunter from Central
station." I looked him straight in the eye. "Couple them up or leave
the premises now... and I *!@*"I-well mean it!" He did, and like
lightning. By the time I'd checked the locos for power, braking, fuel
and coolant it was getting on for midnight and we were due off at
00.30. I sprinted back to the lobby and found driver Jack Cowan
carefully reading his instructions. He was an excellent driver, but
he was also a keen figure in the ASLEF movement. "Are you sure about
this bumph, Harry?" he said, waving the papers at me. "Don't worry,"
I said hastily, "Clive will sort it out." We left on time, light
engine to Heaton. Both locos were fine. When Jack opened the
throttle, I opened the cab window to check that the second engine had
also revved up. Champion! At Heaton, the shed master conducted us in
and announced "You've got ten on." "Ten? My God, I thought eight was
the maximum. I can't see two 37s getting up to a 100 pushing ten
between Darlington and York." Then we saw the APT, with Clive Turner,
Colin, my inspector, and one of the Polmadie drivers standing by the
cab. I took Clive to one side, with Jack Cowan, and explained my
predicament. He straightaway revealed that he was a technical bod,
not a locoman, and then explained the APT to us. As well as the extra
diesel engine, it was fitted with a low protection unit. If the
diesel stopped, air pressure would be lost and the brakes would come
on in the emergency position. Worse still, all the disc brakes were
working on all ten coaches! Jack asked the burning question about
signals suddenly turning from green to red.
Clive said the solution was to isolate the AWS and the "deadman" and
for my inspector, who would ride in the APT cab, to keep a constant
eye on the air pressure gauge to ensure there was no drop from 100
psi. If the driver met a red signal he would make a full brake
application manually and leave it at that.
When we were hauling the APT, the standard coupling and both air
pipes would be connected, so Jack Cowan could control the train as
well as the locos, When we ran round at Darlington, though, one of
Clive's team would secure the slip coupling and disconnect the air
pipes. Clive explained that the APT's rear cab had spare batteries
fitted and he had placed a large red lamp, much bigger than normal,
on the back of the train so the 37s' driver could see it. The slip
coupling would be released from the rear cab, at which point Clive
would give an extra red signal on a Bardic lamp. The 37s' driver
would then shut off power, make an emergency brake application and
hope for the best! Clive also gave me a walkie-talkie, but I couldn't
hear anything on it over the roar of the 37s' engines. As an added
precaution, his team also isolated half the APT's disc brakes before
we left Heaton, so the train wouldn't stop so quickly. We arrived at
Darlington, twenty minutes late, where we stopped on the goods line
while I phoned the signalman in the South box. Yes, he knew all about
the exercise but, in his opinion, it shouldn't take place at all.
He'd already advised Newcastle Control not to bother, so we might as
well take ourselves back to Heaton. Then the phone went dead. Clive
was mystified. "That signalman must be cracked. Everything's been
arranged." So we set off on foot to the cabin to talk to the
signalman face to face. He was pleasant, but he still said no. I
asked to speak to Control. That's when I learned that, although the
Darlington box had details of the working, none of the rest along the
line to York - Northallerton, Thirsk, Pilmoor, Tollerton and Skelton -
knew anything about it. In the circumstances the Newcastle
Controller was powerless to sort out the boob. Day one aborted, back
to Heaton!
On the second night, Monday 16th July, things were much better.
Gateshead had the two locos prepared and running and all I had to do
was check for power and ensure the multiple connection was correct.
This is more difficult than it sounds. To multiple two locos the
driver brings the first to a stand and takes out his operating key.
The second loco is then buffered up, the coupling tied on, and the
jumper cable connected male to female. Then the two air pipes go on,
followed by the vacuum pipes; then, on each side, the two, thin
throttle air pipes. Finally, you have to make sure all the pipes have
their isolating cocks open. That's the driver's job. I can't remember
when two 37s were multipled at Gateshead before, although it's common
practice in South Wales where three 37s have multipled on coal
workings. In the North-East we usually worked in tandem, i.e. with a
driver in each cab. My driver on the second night was Joe Bonner. Off
the job he was an opera buff, well into divas and mezzo-sopranos. I
told him about the previous night and our concern about signals, but
he just shrugged his shoulders and said "No sweat, Harry." At Heaton
we found the APT had been reduced to the eight coaches we'd expected,
again with roughly half the brakes isolated. The same Polmadie driver
was on duty but, this time, he'd turned up wearing a kilt with his
uniform jacket and cap. He wasn't the first Scottish driver I'd seen
dressed like this, by the way! All was well at Darlington. This time
the intermediate cabins knew about us too. While one of Clive's boys
fixed the slip coupling we watched a sleeper and a Freightliner go
past. The signalman told us that as soon as the freight cleared
Skelton, 42 miles away, we could kick off. All the signals would be
at green and the other three lines, up and down, would be stopped
until we arrived at York. The walkie-talkie was still difficult to
hear, so we made the same arrangement about the Bardic red lamp as
the night before. Joe Bonner opened the controller fully and both
locos indicated full power. Although the 37s varied, most nights we
achieved full power and the required 100 mph when the driver shut off
at Northallerton. A brief note about the road itself: the first three
miles to Croft Spa are level, then it's up the bank to the summit at
Eryholme five miles from Darlington. Eryholme summit is level with
the top of York Minster so, for the remaining 40 miles to York
station, there's a very slight downhill gradient.
It was pitch black that night, but we attained the magic 100 as we
passed the water troughs at Danby, near Northallerton. I couldn't
hear Clive over the radio, but I saw him pull the rope on the slip
coupling, then show the Bardic light. Joe Bonner shut off, put the
brakes to emergency and watched as the APT's rear light disappeared.
We, of course, ran past one red light, but then single and, later,
double yellows, then back to single, followed by a red near
Beningsborough, about seven miles from York. I phoned the Skelton
signalman. "Yes," he said, "the guard's on his way back to you. When
he joins your engine, go forward and couple up to the stationary APT.
When we arrived, our secondman tied on the coupling only, so the APT
driver had the brake. Clive gave the all clear to Colin in the
leading cab and we were all set for the second run. Not to be, I'm
afraid. We didn't get to the slip coupling stage at all. The trouble
this time came from the supervisor at York signalbox. "I've had no
word for you to propel back." I asked him to read his instructions
again. "No," he said, "no propelling", and that was that. Clive,
Colin and myself were disgusted, but there was nothing we could do
about it. To cut our losses, we ran round the train and hauled the
APT back to Heaton via the main line. Joe Bonner was left to it in
the 37, while the three of us sat in the APT and wrote a very strong
letter to the Deputy Controller at Newcastle, which I handed in. The
letter reminded him that the exercise was costing a lot of money and
suggested that perhaps we should cancel it altogether. That certainly
made them sit up and think! After that, we had no more trouble for
the rest of the trials, except from the weather. Only the second
Thursday was cancelled, because of thick fog at Darlington. On the
third night, the pair of 37s proved to be the weakest. Jack Cowan
really flayed them, but the maximum speed when Clive operated the
slip was only 94 mph. It was even worse coming back, where we slipped
at Pilmoor doing barely 90. The APT stopped at Manor House, north of
Thirsk. It was daylight by then and after phoning the signalman, he
told us to pass the red light and pick up the guard. We could see the
APT standing about half a mile away. We tied on and pushed it to
Northallerton down platform, from where we ran on the up fast to
York, round the angle, and connected the slip coupling for another
run. This time, the APT driver was under strict instructions not to
touch the brakes at all after the slip had taken place. When the
train did stop of its own volition, he would only apply the brake to
hold it. For the final run of the day, we propelled with the normal
coupling and the air pipes connect- ed. The APT driver controlled the
train at a maximum of 60 mph. He passed all signals at double aspect
and brought the train gently to a halt near the buffer stops at
Eaglescliffe.
Throughout the whole exercise Clive's technicians worked with
instruments in one of the APT coaches which had had its seats
removed. Apparently, they were trying to gauge the speed of the train
without power. I never did know why! In fact we never found out for
certain what the tests were meant to prove. The railways were like
that: "Don't ask questions, just obey the instructions." I was
mightily relieved when the whole thing was over, even though the
Class 37s performed magnificently. I often used to pop into the
engine room when they were at full power (wearing ear muffs, of
course). The oil and water gauges always registered normal, as did
the four fault warnings - water, oil, fuel and traction motors -
whenever we drove from the number one end cab. The only sign of any
problem came from the driver's desk when a drop on the ammeter
indicated tow pressure charging from the engine. The drivers were a
great bunch, most of them my age or older, and I really appreciated
the Polmadie men's wry sense of humour. We all got on famously,
despite the difficulties of the job. Even Clive and his boys went
home happy. Having said that, the whole exercise was ultimately a
waste of time and money as the APT project was cancelled two years
later. Our trials may have proved little about the APT, but they did
show what you can get out of two Class 37s when they're in good nick!
Best Wishes
Rob Latham
www.apt-p.com
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