ig John strode towards his idling units, his boots crunching on the mix of cinders and coal, the tinny towers of Champion Mine thrusting into the narrow sliver of post-midnight stars. He clambered aboard his lead NS unit, checking brake pressure to the long cut of loaded hoppers strung behind his four road engines. As he pumped off the brakes, he could hear the cars behind him groan as they eased down the minor slope, bunching against his lashup. He ignored this as he worked his radio, getting a warrant from the dispatcher. Upslope, he could see the lights of 202 sweep past on the high iron, his wet-ink warrant instructing him to follow it to Zanesville under restricted speed. John knew that it was going to be a rough day ahead – one of the dispatchers was out with an emergency. Nothing to be done about it. He released his loco brakes and started to ease down the last of the slope, popping a quick brake test before notching up the power for the stiff climb out of the Carbon Hill basin. Rolling onto the mainline, he kept his heavy movement under very deliberate power, rolling down the twisting mountain watercourse, rumbling over bridges and through a tunnel, keeping an eye on 202’s distant fred.

There was a brief pause as he played his part in a triple meet, the Zanesville turn tucked onto the siding and 202 already on the roll. Taking up a watchful position behind the heavy morning freight, he followed it down through Mingo, the Mingo Turn working the paper factory, the Tipton exchange holding on the interchange track. Punching through the Mt. Jackson tunnel, he swung through Weirton, watching the tail end of 202 slide clear of the main at Martin Junction. No longer hampered by this slower freight, John advanced his throttle, thundering along the elevated track overlooking the yard, under the Westinghouse bridge and into Pittsburgh. His heavy string thundered across the four-set diamonds, green signals securing his route. Flashing along the brick warrens of this industrialized city, he hit the second diamond set, notching up to run eight, keeping momentum up for the long climb ahead.

He worked his heavy cut along the ridgelines, slowly climbing towards Harris. There, he crossed the wooden span, slowing as he approached the limit of his last warrant, the wooden timbers groaning at the immense weight of his train. Still slowing, he rumbled over the lead Harris turnout, finding his counterpart, 415 – empty returns, holding the siding. The two crews blipped airhorns in greeting, Reverend Jim giving him a nod. Still moving slow, he could hear 415 getting paper following this meet. John rode his brakes around the tight turn, trying not to look down into the dark valley below. Opposite, the sun cracked the horizon. He was making good time.

With 415’s warrant okayed and calling clear of 414’s marker lights, John thumbed his mike and spoke with the dispatcher, reporting that 415 was not fouling, picking up a new warrant down to Lehigh. The fact that he had not gotten a warrant all the way to Calypso told him there was opposing traffic building. Didn’t matter. He was almost home. Checking his brake pressure, he set for the descent and started threading the tunnels on the downgrade.

Turns out he was right about traffic. Just clearing the huge viaduct, he swept through an S-turn and met the first train, 223 by the number boards, rusty old B&O F-units; where did they dig them up from? Riding between the towering steel furnaces and the polluted river, he only cleared 223 and there was an empty ore hopper movement standing patently. On the radio, the dispatcher was clearing 202 down the east slope as well, wanting to clear the summit for the west-bound parade got moving. The last of the shortie-hoppers was past, and then a small intrayard move. But John was on the radio as soon as 202 clicked off, catching rights to Calypso Yard. Swinging through the interchange, he spotted the new tower being built – kinda old school, isn’t it? One thing about the LM&O; it didn’t know if it existed in the past or the future. Regardless, he was through the limit signs and into the yard, slowing to a crawl as a yardlette walked ahead of his engines, lining switches up for track 6. In the nearby yard office, he could see Womack’s lounging figure leaning against the door frame, sipping coffee while waiting for John to cut away power and roll off the point. Womack was on the mill job today and would be bring the heavy cut to the hungry unloaders. And it was just in time – he’d heard that Bethlehem Steel was out of just about everything at this point, running on whatever fuel they could scrape up with shovels.

Well, he’d worry about that. Maybe tomorrow.

So this is my little fictional piece I figured I’d write. Apologies if I got anything out of order or overlooked anyone. I wrote something this morning but decided to have a little fun instead.

As far as the session, it was one of our best. Unfortunately, Matthew (who was supposed to dispatch with me) got in a fender-bender on the way out and didn’t want to risk being disabled in our grassy lot at 11 PM. Hope he’s okay.

As for the rest of us – our radio work was some of the cleanest I’ve ever experienced. When someone stepped on someone else, the stepper would immediately clear for the steppee. The water-level shunters did fantastic work. Shannon did his usual Mingo breeze-through. Bruce learned the Tipton Exchange. Luke did a superb job on Zanesville; he’s come a long way since wandering off the Carbon Hill without paper. And Leonard took a whack at Shelfton, learning the Pez Dispenser trick (at least I hope he learned it – I don’t know if you can even do this job without it).

Over on the mill-side, the crews (mostly John W, along with Reverend Jim, Leonard and Shemp) finished one Furnace off and lit up another, finishing up the full Mill cycle and releasing a lot of product into the world.

And everyone else – you guys ran great. As mentioned, the radio work was spot on. And trains went where they were supposed to go. The freights went through without a hitch, the passenger trains (66 and 95) ran on their times, everything was perfect.

The yards were nice and quiet, even though Bob was cross at me (I think it was when I dumped five trains on him at once). I just sat alone and had a quiet cry in the back.

And yes, I goofed one warrant, giving Terry’s 223 rights from Calypso to Weirton. Everyone heard it, the readback was perfect, but nobody wondered how I could manage such a Hail Mary warrant (half the railroad) so early in the session. And where WAS “Weirton Siding” anyway? The main through that area is dual trackage, no sidings. Anyway, everyone woke up before any little plastic lives were lost.

But it was a great session. An absolute pleasure!

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