Great Northern the A1 Pacific: Chapter 1

The Last Ride

Eastern Region of British Railways, Doncaster, 1962

Forty. That's how old he was now. Forty years old. Forty years of experience as steam locomotive first of The Great Northern Railway, then The London, North-Eastern Railway and finally, British Railways. In his past lives, he was numbered 1470 and 4470, but now, he was numbered 60113 of British Railways and was a shell of his former self.

Gone were the days of the beautiful apple green liveries of the GNR and LNER, no longer did he only work as a top link express engine. Once he had a single chimney and a regular round dome atop of his boiler, now he was fitted with a double Kylchap chimney, a banjo dome, ugly smoke deflectors, wore Walschaerts valve gears instead of his preferred Gresley valve gear. In his past lives, he stood out amongst engines as the kind to look up to and admire. Now he just stood out amongst them and towered over them like some ghastly, deformed monster.

He was, as he was named in the year 1922 by the great Sir Nigel Gresley, Great Northern. The first pacific locomotive of Gresley's A1s. The pioneer of his class. A title in such a way had set his fate in stone. In 1945, he once again become a pioneer. Pioneer and soul member of the Thompson A1/1 Class. And Great Northern hated it. When he had refused at first, Thompson threatened to have Flying Scotsman rebuilt into his design, so, Great Northern did the right and honourable thing as an older brother by sacrificing himself to be rebuilt so Flying Scotsman would remain unsullied.

I haven't got long now, Great Northern thought as he looked down to his buffers and sighed.

Everything about him just felt wrong now. He hated Thompson with every fibre of his being and cried out in joy when he heard news of his death in the mid 1950's. Then again, not many of the ex-LNER engines liked the second CME and would much preferred Arthur Peppercorn to have been promoted in 1941 rather than in 1946.

If that had happened, then perhaps the young Peppercorn Pacifics would have had a few years as part of the LNER with the old numbering before Nationalisation came about. But that was another life, as Great Northern had come to accept as he had also come to accept his own fate in this cruel, cruel world.

"Great Northern."

The A1/1 look to his left, looking past his smoke deflectors to see a black N2 tank engine back down into the berth next to him.

"Good afternoon, Jade,"

Jade was numbered 69523 by British Railways, but Great Northern remembered her by her past numbers as GNR 1744 and LNER 4744. Even though she was a year older than he was and she was a tank engine while he was a tender engine, the two of them always got on marvellously together. Cousins, yet the best of friends. And now they had grown old together, as had the rest of their family and friends. At least, Great Northern thought, that she had turned out better than he did.

"How are you?" Jade asked with a soft infliction in her voice.

"Old. Tired," Great Northern sighed again. "I haven't got long now. I just know it."

"Don't say that," Jade replied, giving the big engine a stare like an older sister would to a little brother. "I now these past two decades have been rough on you, but you're still beloved by those of us who remember the old days. Even the young Peppercorns Pacifics admire you and you are adored by railway enthusiasts young and old. Weren't you telling a young cleaner the other day about our time on the GNR?"

"Aye, I was," Great Northern replied. "Those were the days, weren't they? We were both young and green. I was pulling top link express in my old form."

"And I was shunting in the yards, piloting here at Doncaster or pulling stopping trains along Wheatley Park Branchline."

"Don't you do most of that now anyway?"

"Aye, but I've heard rumours about branchlines being closed down now thanks to Dr. Beeching. I really hope Wheatley Park survives."

"Survives," Great Northern scoffed. "It'll be a miracle if any one of our classmates live it through. The diesels are taking over now. Steam is ending."

"Yes, and steam has had a good long run for nearly 150 years. We should take pride in that."

"I do. Believe me, Jade, I do. But... sometimes I feel as though I've lost the will to puff on. I'm not the engine who I was anymore. The railways of Britain certainly aren't what they were. They're not proper railways anymore."

"No, you're wrong. There is hope. Steam will live on."

Great Northern sighed and rolled his eyes again. "What are you blathering on about? The End of Steam is naught but a few years away at least. Some more than others." Like me.

"No. I'm talking about an island off the north-west coast. It's called Sodor. It's home to The North-Western Railway. You know, the railway Gordon was sold to when he was sent away in '23. You remember those books a reverend published about them and those engines, don't you?"

"Yes, I remember," Great Northern said he remembered the time a boy sat on his bufferbeam after cleaning him down and read to him The Three Railway Engines book, starring Edward, Henry and his own older brother, Gordon. Gordon the Gresley A0. "I still can't believe he got stuck on that hill. He didn't sound like he was even trying."

"I bet it's still called Gordon's Hill to this day!" Jade snickered as Great Northern also began to chuckle. "Still, I hope Gordon is happy where he is on Sodor."

"They say he always runs an express called The Wild Nor' Wester. I wish I had my own express to pull just for me. Gordon is very lucky. As are any of the engines who live on the NWR."

"Indeed. But we've been lucky in many ways too. Remember the time at Grantham when I taught you how to be station pilot in the mid-50s?"

"I told you to never speak about that!" Great Northern growled. "It was humiliating!"

"Maybe, but didn't you get a certain appreciation for all the hard work we tank engines do to keep your trains running to time each morning?"

"Yes, it did..." Great Northern said with a reluctant groan. "But I certainly don't want to play shunter ever again. I barely have enough dignity left as it is."

"You have plenty of dignity. You're a shining example to all."

"An example of puffing scrap iron, you mean," Great Northern hissed. "Just admit it, Jade. You know as well as I do that I'm a shell of an engine that I once was and that I'm a monstrosity!"

Jade looked very upset at this. "Stop speaking like that about yourself! You're not some monster, you're an inspiration!"

"In a past life!"

"Who cares about some past life?! All that matters, is here and now! And you never know what the future may hold for you. For any of us!"

"Pah!" Great Northern snorted. "If even Flying Scotsman is in danger of being scrapped, then what hope is there for rest of us, Jade?! For you, me, our siblings and all of cousins and friends?! Tell me!"

Jade faltered, unable to find an answer. "I don't know!" she shouted as tears began to well in her eyes. "I don't know... But there's always hope. There has to be hope."

"And if there isn't?!"

"Then we face the end together! All of us! But you talk as if you've given up already, Great Northern!"

"Well, maybe I have! All of my original parts were stripped of me and who would want some monster and shell in preservation. Even if they were to try and rebuild me in my old form it would take fortune!"

"Great Northern..."

"No. No! Don't you speak to me like that! You don't know what I've gone through the past twenty years, Jade! And the most you've gone through is a few repairs and livery changes! And that's it!"

After Great Northern's rant, the sheds fell deadly silent. Jade was close to crying and Great Northern was royally cheesed off. A young Peppercorn Pacific named W.P. Allen had been woken up and now felt a little scared around the former Gresley A1. For a little while, no one said anything. All until Great Northern saw his driver approach him.

"Albert."

"Great Northern."

"What's the news?"

"Not good I'm afraid. Your next express train to King's Cross will be your last. I'm sorry, old boy. We've tried everything, but it's all for nought. British Railways won't listen."

"No, it's okay. You did everything you could. All of you. I've been expecting this day for many years now."

"Aye, but let's make the most of it, shall we? Let's make you go out in blaze of glory, eh?"

"Well... I don't suppose why not."

Once his fire was ready and his steam pressure was up, Great Northern slowly trundled out of the shed and the yard before making his way towards the station. Ready for his last run before he would be withdrawn and later would be scrapped. Once he got turned around, Great Northern backed down into Platform 1 of station with 10 blood and cream BR coaches, ready to depart for London. On the platform, next to him was 60025 Falcon who had stopped at Doncaster with the down Flying Scotsman.

"I hear this is your last run, Great Northern," Falcon said as he smiled at the A1/1. "Make sure you give them hell."

Great Northern smiled back at his A4 cousin, remembering the time when the latter was just a young engine as he looked splendid in his royal garter blue livery, as did many of his fellow A4s. "That I will. And I'm going out in a blaze of glory, with all the dignity I have left."

"Gresley would be proud of you. I just know it."

"Thank you, Falcon. I'm going to miss you at the sheds once I'm gone."

"As will I, cousin. As will I."

No more needed to be said as Great Northern heard the porters close the doors of the coaches while the guard blew his whistle and waved his green flag. Great Northern blew his own whistle loud and hard as he pushed forwards and heaved the heavy coaches behind him. This was his last run, yes. But it would be his best, the former Gresley A1 would make sure of it.

Running express trains had become second nature to the engine. He was able to keep to time and speed while also making sure to be gentle with his coaches and then in turn be gentle with the passengers. In no time at all he thundered down The East Coast Mainline, heading for King's Cross in London. At the stations, he was not stopping at, he shot through them as nearby engines whistled to him, young or old.

He also saw many engines from pre-grouping companies, the LNER and the new BR designs pass him by. Whether it be expresses like him, local stopping trains, freights or just engines running light engine, they all took the time to say hello or thank you to him as they passed. And Great Northern would always reply in kind.

Stop after stop he went along the Mainline, but he knew that with every stop, he was closer and closer to the end. In the end, Great Northern had kept his promise and made his last run a great one as he pulled into one of the terminal platforms of King's Cross. People on the platforms waved and cheered for him and his crew as passengers disembarked, thanking his crew and him for the lovely ride.

Great Northern knew that this may be the end but seeing all those passengers so happy was more than worth it. At least he would have that to always cherish and hold dear. It was as the crowds dispersed did the A1/1 notice two very familiar engines next to him.

The first with The Yorkshire Pullman was 60103 Flying Scotsman in BR Brunswick Green. Next to him was none other than their famous cousin 60022 Mallard, also in BR Brunswick Green, the fastest steam locomotive in the world. Great Northern smiled to his brother and cousin, if any of Gresley's engines could make it to preservation, it would certainly be those two. He might be put up for scrap, but they would live on and continue the legacy of all Gresley engines for future years to come.

"Well done, brother," Flying Scotsman spoke finally. "You were marvellous."

"Indeed," agreed Mallard. "You were amazing, cousin. You certainly made the best of your last run."

Great Northern smiled. "Thank you. Thank you both."

From there, Great Northern waited patiently as a J50 tank engine took the coaches away to be shunting in the yards of King's Cross, as was the job required to do as Station Pilot. Great Northern then bid farewell to his brother and cousin before backing his way into the yard to get turned around a turntable for his journey back to Doncaster. Great Northern took a deep breath as his driver fitted the light engine head-code on his bufferbeam before buffering up to a brakevan as they made their long journey back to Doncaster

January, Doncaster Works, 1963

It had been two months since he was withdrawn, and this was where he stood now. In a siding in the yards of the place where he was built. And now, ironically, this was the place where he was going to die and be turned into scrap. It was a bitter irony to be sure, but at least he would die in a familiar place like home, rather than abroad like Barry's Scrapyard in Wales.

Of course, Great Northern wasn't alone. His own siblings and cousins had been withdrawn too. From A3s to A4s, N2s, V2s, V3s, J39s, J94's, B12s, 7Fs and even Claud Hamiltons, some of which had either already been scrapped or had been there for years now. As for Great Northern himself, he was put in a siding of his own, away from the other engines who remained deadly silent. Awaiting their fate.

It didn't help when rude diesels would pass by making unsavoury remarks about them being out of date. The poor fools, if this fate could happen to steam engines, did they not know this fate would also await them in the end too? But it didn't matter, such words were wasted on engines like them, they would learn when it would be all too late.

I've lived a long life. Great Northern thought, closing his eyes for a moment. I have seen and experienced many things in my life, but it is time for me to rest. To rest in peace.

Great Northern wasn't so sure how much time had passed when he next woke up. He hadn't woken up by himself. Rather, he woken up by the crunching of ballast under footsteps. Footsteps which seemed to be approaching him as the crunching of the ballast became louder and louder. Great Northern opened his eyes and looked down to see the Doncaster Works manager and a Stout Gentleman wearing a top hat in front of him.

"Here he is, Sir Charles, 60113, Great Northern," said the manager. "He was withdrawn late last year in November. His last run was truly a sight to be behold."

"I wish I was there to see, but I was at The Bluebell Railway after Stepney visited my railway," The Stout Gentleman replied.

"Your railway, sir?" Great Northern replied as he raised an eyebrow.

"Why yes, my railway. A pleasure to finally meet you, Great Northern. I am Sir Charles Topham Hatt. Owner and controller of The North-Western Railway on Sodor. You may have heard that I have been referred to as The Fat Controller."

Great Northern's eyes lit up. "The NWR?! Then that means... Sir, does my brother Gordon still work on your railway?"

"Of course!" The Fat Controller smiled. "He's my best express engine on the whole island. However, am I in need of an engine who can pull expresses and regular passenger trains alike on my Mainline."

Instinctively, Great Northern looked over other sidings. "I'm sure you'll find plenty of engines who would fit that kind of description, sir. A V2 perhaps? A Claud Hamilton? Or a B12? Oh, you should most definitely take a Peppercorn A1, sir. They're young but they certainly do the job and they deserve the chance to-"

"You misunderstand me, Great Northern," The Fat Controller interrupted. "I have already made my purchase and I'm standing in front of the engine who I have bought."

It took a moment for Great Northern to realise what The Stout Gentleman had said. "Sir, you can't mean... You actually... bought me?!"

"Indeed, I did."

"But what why?! I'm not a Gresley A1 anymore. The younger engines deserve more of a chance than me and-"

"I'm doing this because of the demands of the passengers on Sodor. It is clear that they need an engine with experience. One who can handle expresses and local trains as easily as the other. But I also have sentimental reasons for choosing you, Great Northern. It is for Gordon too."

"G... Gordon?" Great Northern murmured, thinking about his older brother.

"Yes. It is clear to me that British Railways is not what it once was and is brutally scrapping its engines. That never happens on my railway and never will. I think it will do Gordon well to see you again, Great Northern. As it will also do you good to have you restored in your old GNR form after your major overhaul at Crovan's Gate Steamworks."

Great Northern was truly blown away. "Sir, you'd... you'd rebuild me into my first A1 form? The same form I had in my old GNR livery?!"

"Yes, I would. The manager of Doncaster Works had kindly donated the remaining parts from your old form before Thompson rebuilt you. As for the rest, we will have to make from scratch or buy anew. It may take some time, but I know that it'll be worth every penny. That, and you shall be able to see Gordon again too."

"Sir, I..." Great Northern muttered, truly at a loss for words. "I don't know what to say."

"There's no need for you to say anything. I'm having my No. 3 come by soon after he's been polished and oiled down for the trip back north-west. He'll be taking a goods train with your old parts along with you on a well-wagon. I hope you don't mind. It may not be quite so... dignified for your standards, as Gordon might say."

"N-No, sir! I don't mind, not at all!"

The Fat Controller smiled. "Very good. I'll see you later on this afternoon, Great Northern." He then turned to the manager of Doncaster Works. "Make sure that Great Northern's splasher nameplates are given to me before we leave, I certainly don't want those important items to be lost, heaven forbid scrapped."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir," the manager nodded as he hurried off to finding the nameplates in the works while The Fat Controller looked back to Great Northern, giving him a wink before turning on his heels and walked away.

For a while, Great Northern said nothing and thought nothing. Was this dream? It had to be a dream? This couldn't be real. If he had hands, he'd have been pinching himself mad to make sure that he was asleep. Soon though, he would know in due time. A Class 47 diesel came alongside him with a breakdown train with a well-wagon in front of it.

Unlike most, this diesel was kind and took the time to speak with the other engines about days gone by and would ask other questions of any other topics he so thought of it. He would always stand up to any other diesels that would laugh or jeer as they passed. And while he couldn't be everywhere at once, all the steam engines there appreciated him and his well-meaning intentions.

In no time at all, Great Northern was place onto the well-wagon and was securely strapped down with heavy chains to keep him in place. Then, he was carefully shunted in front of goods train filled with multiple covered trucks. No doubt they were filled with his original parts which The Fat Controller had told him about just before. Suddenly, just as Great Northern's well-wagon was coupled up to the train, he watched a green Stanier tender back down onto the train!

Great Northern was gobsmacked. "Since when does a Stanier Five have a green tender?" he asked the green Black Five that had backed down onto the train. "And why is a Black Five painted bright green? You should have either the lined or unlined black livery."

"Feeling jealous, are we?" sniggered the engine which was numbered No.3 on his cab sides with 'NWR' written in yellow on the sides of his Stanier tender.

Great Northern saw that like other Black Fives he had met, the engine also had the Caprotti valve gear but also had red boiler strands on his boiler. He truly looked very different on when compared to others like him on British Railways.

Sir Charles must have a queer taste in liveries, especially for a Black Five like this one.

"Pleasure to meet you, I'm Henry," said the 'Green Five'. "As for my livery, well, let's just say that it's the NWR green livery and I love it. I've heard you before, Great Northern. Gordon speaks highly of you."

Great Northern was taken aback. "Really? He does?"

Henry just nodded as Great Northern couldn't help but smile thankfully.

"Of course! He's always going about the rivalries and competitions you had when you pulled trains together to King's Cross from Doncaster or vice-versa. I have to admit though, just being here in this place makes my frames shake."

"It was once the place I was built," Great Northern sighed despondently. "And now, many of us who were built here will die here too."

"I... I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not like you or The Fat Controller sent us here to be scrapped. Is it true what they say about Sodor?"

"If you mean that steam will always have a place on Sodor, then yes!"

"Heh... You have no idea how relieved I am to here that, Henry."

"I'm glad that you are. And don't you worry, you're going to love it on Sodor."

"I'm sure I will. I can't wait to meet the rest of your friends on the NWR." And to see Gordon will be like a dream come true.

"Right then!" called a familiar voice as The Fat Controller made his way over to Henry and hopped into his cab along with the driver and fireman. "Right then, lads! Let's be off! It's a long way back north-west!"

"Yes, sir!" Henry agreed as he blew his whistle and slowly started off with the long goods train heading for Sodor.

Once again, Great Northern took a very deep breath and watched as he slowly departed from Doncaster Works. He had been saved after all. Maybe... fate wasn't so cruel after all. While he wanted engines younger then him to be saved, he held out hope that they would be preserved in the end. And some day, maybe he would see them again too. And he couldn't wait to see Gordon again too.

To Be Continued...