Longmoor Tales

Longmoor Tales.

The Stanier 8F locomotives used by the Royal Engineers in the Middle East had at least one local refinement, which was a shut off valve between the clack and the boiler operated by a long straight handle, there were two valves, one each side of the top feed. This meant the clacks could be quickly isolated if damaged by sand in the water, as often happened. These valves were stripped out by British Railways, but two returned to the Longmoor Military Railway and kept this feature.

A young RE officer visiting Longmoor Shed spotted these.

“Corporal, why does this locomotive have horns sticking up at the side?”

“Reins, Sir. Sometimes we tie reins to the horns which lead back to the cab. They help the driver and fireman to steer the locomotive round sharp corners”

“Thank you Corporal Grice. Carry on.”

The Longmoor Military Railway was the largest private railway in Britain. It served a large military training area and stores complex, and it was also where the Royal Engineers trained their Railway Squadrons. It ran passenger trains for soldiers, it was fully signalled, and included features such as a large circular loop which was independent of the main line, so trainee drivers could just keep driving round and round. The Royal Engineer units are called “Squadrons” and the railway was operated by 49 Railway Training Squadron.

Alen Grice was called up for National Service shortly after World War II and after completing his Derby Apprenticeship. He was looking forward to a change from railways, and so found himself in 83 Railway Depot Squadron, which was the Reception Squadron at Longmoor, living in a tent and mounting guard in the rain. After a few weeks his talents were recognised by an officer and he was urgently posted to 49 Squadron for operating duties at the shed, where things were not going well.

The main daily operation was to send out up to fifteen “Austerity” saddle tanks for trip working and to shunt stores, driven by civilian employees. The routine maintenance was not being properly done and reliability was poor. Alen looked over the locomotives, liked the design, and set about turning things around. He was rapidly promoted Lance Corporal, and then Corporal (unpaid) but there was friction with certain middle ranking officers and NCOs who resented change. I think we would all agree that an instruction from Alen is not a basis for further discussion.

Suddenly the interference stopped dead, without any direct explanation. Alen later discovered that the Officer Commanding, Colonel Alexander, had his finger on the pulse. He had called all the officers in the Squadron together. “Corporal Grice knows what he is doing. You will stay out of the shed and see to it that he is free from interference. That is an order”.

The Austerity 0-6-0 saddletanks look deceptively elegant, with shapely chimneys and inside cylinders. They were designed to be a simple and brutally strong locomotive needing a minimum of maintenance, with deep 1” plate frames built into a strongly reinforced box. They were capable of hauling 1000 tons on the level. One day one of them ran through catch points, got derailed and rolled on its side. The sappers rolled it back upright, re-railed it and dragged it back to the shed. No repairs were required and it returned to work the next day.

Alen’s domain was the running shed. The workshops were a separate unit, and one of the austerities, No. 106 was given a heavy overhaul there, which occupied five men working full time for a year. Alen took the view that it would have been better to buy a new engine. However, eventually 106 was finished and it did look a brave sight in immaculate paint as it steamed off on the trial run.

A little later there was an urgent call from one of the blockmen, “steam locomotive on fire, fire brigade in attendance”. Alen was sent out to the emergency and found flames leaping out of the axleboxes. The new paint was quite ruined. Once the fire was out and the engine had cooled down, Alen found all the main bearings had seized; the locomotive was jacked up but it proved extremely difficult to free the journals, as the axleboxes had been machined with no working tolerance at all. Eventually it was rescued and dragged back to the shed, where an enquiry was held. No 106 discreetly disappeared from Longmoor, as did the sapper in charge, who was posted.

One training exercise involved the construction and testing of what was known as a “Unit Construction Bridge”. It was a similar concept to the Bailey Bridge, designed for very rapid construction without bolts using accurately made components fixed together with taper pins held in place by cotters.

The Southern Region had been asked to supply the heaviest locomotives possible, and sent a couple of H16 4-8-0 shunting tanks. The early tests went well and then the drivers were ordered to charge across “as fast as possible”. The speed was not recorded, but was clearly too fast. The sappers dived for cover as the cotters sheared and taper pins flew like bullets, though the bridge still stood. Sapper Codlin, driver of the lead engine, was tackled by the officer in charge.

“But you said to take it fast.”

“I didn’t mean as fast as that!”.

While Alen was at Longmoor, 10 Squadron returned to the UK. They were the international Squadron, who dealt with any railway operations required by the British Army, anywhere in the world, which gave them a very wide range of knowledge indeed. The Commanding Officer was Major Peter Olver, who later joined the Railway Inspectorate and became the principal inspecting officer for heritage railways.

Alen completed his national Service; the Royal Engineers offered him promotion to Sergeant with pay to match but he “wanted to get back to real life”.

Many years later he met Major Olver again; Alen had become shedmaster at Loughborough GCR after the King Haakon incident in about 1974. A volunteer footplate crew had been badly injured through poor basic boiler maintenance and Alen had been directed in by London Midland Region (who still owned the line and therefore still had the responsibility) to sort things out. In the meantime Alen had been running shed foreman at Kirkby in Ashfield, with 48 8F locomotives to keep in traffic; he was glad to be back with steam again.

A little later Major Olver turned up to inspect and recognised Alen at once.

“Now then Sapper, are your records in order?”

“Yes Sir”

“Since you say so, I shan’t bother to look, but let me make it clear, any more trouble like this and I’ll come back and kick your………..so hard it will come up through your…….(censored)”.

Alen remains very proud of his Royal Engineer service, and frequently wears an old RE beret on the footplate. One day another Longmoor veteran hailed him, “Do I know you?”

“Well, I know you. 106!”

Even after fifty years the other man blushed.

Shift forward a bit in time. I don't know if it is still there, but at Barrow Hill there used to be a photograph of an Austerity - 2-8-0 version - which ran away and dived into the turntable pit in around 1964. It showed the breakdown gang scurrying around with jacks and packing under the direction of their foreman, a commanding presence in a brown overall and bowler hat. One day Martyn Ashworth was visiting Barrow Hill with Alen and came across the photo.

"Gosh Alen, that foreman looks just like you"

"Looks like me? It f..... is me!"