Post by af3020 on Dec 31, 2023 18:59:01 GMT
"I had been on the engine for almost 14 hours on that New Years Eve in 1845. Back then, with no cab for protection we stood out in the elements year
round. It had been bitter cold and when we rolled into the division point (and home) I was thinking of nothing more than home and fire. Once in the yard masters office I was informed we were two engineers short and I would have to run the switch engine.
I went back out to the yard, manned the switcher and got on with the business of switching cars. The rest of the crew wanted to be home before midnight so we were in a rush. The cars fairly flew back and forth and the lights passed by like lightning, and everywhere was the creaking and rattling of the cars as they came together. Half an hour later the train was assembled and I got down off the engine and started walking home. I was walking down the right-hand main track, because it was clean of snow and because I could see my house from it first. I went along confidently, for I was coming from the station, and you know I was walking on the track for the trains coming in, so no train could run up on me from behind - none was expected from the front.
When I was half way through the cut, which as you know is on a curve, and in which I couldn't see a car length that night I heard a whistle behind me, and immediately the
click and clack of the wheels of a slowly approaching train. I knew by the sound that the engine was pushing cars in front of it and it occurred to me it was probably
the ten cars that had been sitting on the track in front of the station. I wasn't worried because I knew it would have to pass me on the left hand track. The train drew closer and I turned to give the engineer a wave and a shout of "Happy New Year."
But there was no train on the track on the left, and at the very moment I turned I felt a mighty push against my back, my eyes saw stars and I was slammed into the snow
on the ties between the rails and ping-pang the cars began to pass over me. As I lay there in a daze, trying to understand why the train had been on the wrong track it suddenly occurred to me that it had been the up-track which was covered with deep snow that morning, and that was why the train had come up the down-track.
I wasn't worried about the cars but I was worried about the engine. Several of the engines were mounted high enough so that the ashpan would clear but if it was the Sirius I would be worse than a dead man because I would slowly torn to pieces and crushed. I stretched myself out and drew in my breath and made myself as thin as a board.
I could feel the engine getting closer and the ground began to tremble. I had my head pressed down in the snow and gravel and I twisted around to look. Coming straight at me was the low slung ashpan of the Sirius. It caught me heavily on the back, pressed forward, and then rip, tear, something on me tore in two--and puff, puff, rolling, thundering and stamping, the engine passed over me.
How I ever got to my feet I cannot say. I stood there trembling and saw the red lights on the engine disappear in the curve looking me in the eyes like death itself.
I felt myself all over and found that the two regulation buttons were missing from the back of my overcoat. I stumbled back to the yard,
looked up the nearest switchman, borrowed his lantern, and looked up the buttons in the snow.
After I found them I went home. I walked in the door, my wife took one look at me and knew in an instant that something terrible had happened. I told her what had
transpired and held up the buttons and said," See there, your husband was only this far from death this evening." My wife took the buttons and the next morning
at breakfast she gave them back to me sewn to a cord to wear around my neck. I wear them everyday and I'll carry them on me till death comes in earnest."
From Railroading in The Eighties – Roxbury
round. It had been bitter cold and when we rolled into the division point (and home) I was thinking of nothing more than home and fire. Once in the yard masters office I was informed we were two engineers short and I would have to run the switch engine.
I went back out to the yard, manned the switcher and got on with the business of switching cars. The rest of the crew wanted to be home before midnight so we were in a rush. The cars fairly flew back and forth and the lights passed by like lightning, and everywhere was the creaking and rattling of the cars as they came together. Half an hour later the train was assembled and I got down off the engine and started walking home. I was walking down the right-hand main track, because it was clean of snow and because I could see my house from it first. I went along confidently, for I was coming from the station, and you know I was walking on the track for the trains coming in, so no train could run up on me from behind - none was expected from the front.
When I was half way through the cut, which as you know is on a curve, and in which I couldn't see a car length that night I heard a whistle behind me, and immediately the
click and clack of the wheels of a slowly approaching train. I knew by the sound that the engine was pushing cars in front of it and it occurred to me it was probably
the ten cars that had been sitting on the track in front of the station. I wasn't worried because I knew it would have to pass me on the left hand track. The train drew closer and I turned to give the engineer a wave and a shout of "Happy New Year."
But there was no train on the track on the left, and at the very moment I turned I felt a mighty push against my back, my eyes saw stars and I was slammed into the snow
on the ties between the rails and ping-pang the cars began to pass over me. As I lay there in a daze, trying to understand why the train had been on the wrong track it suddenly occurred to me that it had been the up-track which was covered with deep snow that morning, and that was why the train had come up the down-track.
I wasn't worried about the cars but I was worried about the engine. Several of the engines were mounted high enough so that the ashpan would clear but if it was the Sirius I would be worse than a dead man because I would slowly torn to pieces and crushed. I stretched myself out and drew in my breath and made myself as thin as a board.
I could feel the engine getting closer and the ground began to tremble. I had my head pressed down in the snow and gravel and I twisted around to look. Coming straight at me was the low slung ashpan of the Sirius. It caught me heavily on the back, pressed forward, and then rip, tear, something on me tore in two--and puff, puff, rolling, thundering and stamping, the engine passed over me.
How I ever got to my feet I cannot say. I stood there trembling and saw the red lights on the engine disappear in the curve looking me in the eyes like death itself.
I felt myself all over and found that the two regulation buttons were missing from the back of my overcoat. I stumbled back to the yard,
looked up the nearest switchman, borrowed his lantern, and looked up the buttons in the snow.
After I found them I went home. I walked in the door, my wife took one look at me and knew in an instant that something terrible had happened. I told her what had
transpired and held up the buttons and said," See there, your husband was only this far from death this evening." My wife took the buttons and the next morning
at breakfast she gave them back to me sewn to a cord to wear around my neck. I wear them everyday and I'll carry them on me till death comes in earnest."
From Railroading in The Eighties – Roxbury
