T’was a cold and frosty night (Eastleigh to Basingstoke)

I can’t remember the exact circumstances as to how I came to work this particular train. I think I must have been the spare guard at Eastleigh one freezing cold winter night.
I was asked to go to Basingstoke on a light engine to bring a train back from Basingstoke to Eastleigh. The driver and I climbed into the cab of a class 73 Electro-Diesel (ED) and duly set off for Basingstoke. I do remember that the driver was one of the more sociable men and we were happily chatting away, the heaters in the cab keeping out the cold night, green lights all the way. It must have been about 3.00am, and nothing else was moving on the line at that time of the night.
We charged through Micheldever, and as we started to approach Battledown flyover, the driver started to slow the loco, just in case the signal guarding the junction ahead was against us. If memory serves me correctly, you do not see the signal until you are over the flyover, but the Basingstoke signalman knew we were coming, and should have given us the road. However the signal behind us had been yellow.
We came across the flyover at slow speed, and a red light stared at us. Now, bear in mind, the hill down from Battledown flyover to Worting junction is quite steep, and an ED is very light for a loco. Even though we were moving at a snail’s pace, we were in trouble. Frost had settled on the rail head, and every time the driver touched the brake, the wheels would “pick up” and we would start to slide down the hill.
“You know, if something is coming up from Salisbury, and we slide through the junction, we could be into the side of it, or it could be into the back of us!” my driver said, panic starting in his voice.
Brake, slide, release, brake, slide, release. We slid on down toward the light.
“Get that door open,” the driver said, “and if I say jump, don’t even think about it, just jump out of here!”
Every touch of the brake must have been taking something out of our speed, and the line must have been levelling out. We stopped, almost a loco length past the signal. Shakily, driver climbed down to call Basingstoke signal box. I listened at the door.
The driver replaced the signal phone, and came back to the cab, still shaking, but now with fury.
“You’re not going to believe this,” he said angrily, “That ****** in the box forgot we were coming. We should have had greens all the way! We aren’t even far enough past the light to operate the track circuit, he doesn’t know we are past the signal and he’s given us a green now!”
I don’t know about green lights, I do know the air was blue!

 

Haha, nice little tale, thanks BR34095