Rural Station

"OK, Brenda's fiancé. I suppose you have a right to know. Brenda might tell you -- eventually. When I proposed to Brenda for the last time, she made it very clear that I had no hope of getting her to consent. She liked me but she didn't want to marry anyone -- then. She was still missing her husband. She did say that if she ever changed her mind, there was only one man she'd consider -- you, Andrew, but not then and perhaps not for years. It has been four years and only now has she accepted you.

As for my wife, Rachel? She was a First World War widow of one of my friends in the regiment. She was a next door neighbour. When we came back to the US and demobbed she made it very clear she wanted me. She wasn't Brenda, but Brenda had said no. I don't see Rachel as a second choice. We are very happy together and I will be delighted to be back with her when I'm back home. I like Brenda. I thought I loved her. Perhaps I did. Brenda didn't and doesn't love me. Rachel does, and I love Rachel."

"Congratulations, Elmer on finding love."

"So have you. I ought to have been jealous of you, then, but you didn't know Brenda preferred you."

"No, Elmer. Brenda didn't tell me."

I didn't say that I had known Brenda loved me at the time. I knew she did but I was prepared to let her grieve for her first husband. Perhaps I had waited longer than I should, but now I would be marrying her with no regrets for either of us.

"And now I'll get back into US Engineer mode and ensure you have a properly built and substantial platform. See you this evening, Andrew."

He walked off to join the veterans who were working efficiently even without Elmer's direction.

Much later John told me about a discussion he had had with Elmer, John had mentioned that I would be wearing my best Station Master's suit and my military medals which showed in a photo John had of me at a Remembrance parade from the 1920s when I was still an Army reserve Brigadier.

"How did he earn those?" Elmer asked. "There's a French and American decoration. I recognise the D.S.O. The Air Force base commander seems to know more than I do. What rank was Andrew?"

"We're proud of him," John replied. "Andrew is usually very reticent about his war service. Apart from the First World War he saw action in India's North West Frontier and the Boer War in South Africa. By the end of the World War he was a substantive Brigadier, Brigadier-General in American usage."

"I didn't know he outranked me," Colonel Elmer said. "I ought to salute him."

"I wouldn't. He's not wearing army uniform. You might embarrass him."

"His medals?"

"Apart from his service medals, the DSO, the French and American medals are for an action in Spring 1918. He was a Brigadier in the RASC organising ammunition supplies to repel the German offensive. He was discussing extending the narrow gauge train lines when they came under long range German artillery fire. There was an ammunition train leaving the depot that was struck, killing the driver and his mate, and setting some of the ammunition on fire. Andrew pulled the bodies out of the way and drove the flaming train away from assembled French and American troops. He had got the train away from everyone when it exploded. He still has shrapnel in a leg and that was the end of his war. He spent the whole of the rest of 1918 in hospital. The British, French and Americans all awarded him bravery medals, even though no one had expected a Brigadier to be able to drive a train. He had probably saved hundreds of French and American troops."

"And the base commander?"

"His father was one of the American officers saved by Andrew's action. His father was a signatory to the recommendation for the American medal."

"I wondered. That base commander has been very helpful to us and is doing a lot for the wedding. I thought it was just for us veterans but he mentioned Andrew specifically. I asked for help with the wedding present to Andrew and Brenda and the base is doing wonders."

+++

By the time of the evening meal, which was earlier than Friday because we hadn't had to wait for the last train, the veterans were tired but pleased with their progress. The benches had been done and the platform for the Camping Coaches was totally ready. They enjoyed their meal, the alcohol from the bar, and the communal singing but they were less exuberant than the previous evening. The coach came for them at eight thirty and they looked pleased to be going to the Hostel and bed.

As the last train stopped at the station I handed the bag with the weekly takings to the guard. I was pleased that with the pennies for platform tickets from the veterans, increased use of the toilets and a couple of walking groups, this week's income was fifteen shillings and fivepence -- not yet enough, but an improvement.

I also enclosed a letter to say that everything was ready for the Camping Coaches and the total cost had been less than five pounds for piping, nails and screws. With the first train of the day I had been sent a letter about the train the veterans would be leaving on. It would be a two-coach train hauled by the usual tank engine, with one coach reserved for the veterans. That coach would be empty on the way to the market town but as there were rarely any more than half a dozen passengers each way on that service, that shouldn't be a problem.

I had discussed the possibilities of turning the messes into an overflow hostel with Malcolm and James. They could see the attraction of it but advised against making it into an official Youth Hostel. I, and visitors, might find the Youth Hostel Association's rules too restrictive. But Malcolm told me that there was an auction of ex-Army equipment, including beds and bedding, in the depot at the junction town next week. He had the catalogue but wouldn't be bidding. He already had what he needed.

I hadn't known at the time but Elmer had been discussing the numbers likely to be at the wedding and reception with Brenda, Malcolm and James. I had drastically underestimated the attendance. Apart from my son and his family, our immediate neighbours, and the veterans, there would be the whole church congregation and Elmer had arranged, using my Station Master's phone to ring the USAAF base -- the Base band and probably fifty current servicemen from the base. Instead of the couple of dozen people I had thought, there would be over two hundred. The reception would be a stand-up buffet and more food would be needed to provide for the numbers. Elmer, Brenda and Malcolm had sorted that out between them.

Malcolm, James and the whole Rogers family would produce the buffet which would be in the locked refreshment room while we were at the church service. The USAAF would provide transport, in the back of lorries if necessary, for everyone to travel to and from the church. I had already arranged with the railway company for a substitute station master to cover me on the Saturday and for the next week. He would stay in my house while I spent our honeymoon in Brenda's house.

+++

On the Sunday, after breakfast and attending the church service by coach, the veterans spruced up the messes and ablution blocks of the former campsite. They made sure that everything worked, the plumbing, the sewage, the electricity from the generator -- electricity we didn't have at the station or our houses. The kitchens were sparklingly clean. All that was missing was beds and bedding. Other than that, the messes' furniture and equipment was as it had been left in 1944 but cleaner and polished.

They ate their packed lunches on the benches they had made on Saturday morning. In the afternoon some of them turned into foresters, cutting my firebreaks wider and clearing recent encroaching undergrowth. I protested that their firebreaks were too wide, but most of them had seen forest fires in the US and thought my ideas too small. They made fire brooms from sticks and old tyres and placed them in strategic places throughout my woodland. By the Sunday evening meal my woodlands were neater, tidier and better managed than they had been since I bought them. Eighteen skilled men, even if veterans, could do far more than I and the Rogers family could do in between other jobs.

The Sunday evening meal was like Saturday's, not as raucous as Fridays, but eighteen men enjoying good food, well presented, and singing when they weren't eating. Although they had drunk a lot they had made little impression on the bar's stock except the local cider which had been very popular. I would need to order more cider for the wedding reception.

Monday breakfast was much quieter. When they left they were going to London for a few days and then on a rail tour of many parts of England. Although they would be back for the wedding, they insisted on thanking all of us, and Brenda, Mrs Rogers and her daughters were kissed by every veteran. Their train was a couple of minutes late leaving but that didn't really matter because they would have to wait half an hour at the junction for their connection.

When they had left we had a mixture of sadness and relief that their visit had gone so well. I was grateful for all the work they had done. The platform for the camping coaches was possibly over-engineered, much more substantial and ornate than my original design, but should last many years before requiring maintenance.

+++

The following week was quiet by comparison but the passenger numbers were increased because the holidays were approaching. A regular at the Youth Hostel had drawn a map of the local footpaths, including the walks through my woodlands. Malcolm and I had arranged for it to be reproduced by a local printer and it was available free at the station and the Youth Hostel.

I was aware that preparations were being made for our wedding. The public phone box on the station approach and my station master's phone were in constant use by Brenda and Mrs Rogers.

When I asked Brenda what was going on her response was curt:

"Your involvement, Andrew, is to be waiting for me at the church. Everything else? Leave to Joan and me. We know what we are doing."

On Tuesday I went to see the auction items. I left a bid for beds and bedding, high enough that the auctioneer thought would win, and if so, they could be delivered for a reasonable fee.

On Wednesday I was surprised to receive a company letter to say that the camping coaches would be delivered by special train on Sunday afternoon when there would be no normal trains. Apparently these two coaches had been intended for another location but their infrastructure wasn't ready. They would get the coaches originally being converted for us in September. They would be added as an addendum to this summer's leaflet for hire of camping coaches. I suspected my son's influence but I wasn't going to object.

On Thursday I had a telephone call from the auction company. I had won the lots I had bid on. They would be delivered on Saturday and I could give a cheque to the driver for my purchase and delivery. Also on that Thursday John Rogers and I greased the points for the siding that hadn't been used since the Army camp closed down. I checked that I could change the points and the ground signals. They were all stiff at first but when we had finished worked smoothly. It wasn't part of my duties to maintain the track or signals but I wanted to keep the costs allocated to Kilndown Road as low as possible.

On the last Thursday train I received another railway letter that began to give some idea of what was planned for the wedding. I was told that the veterans would be arriving on the Friday evening before the wedding in a two coach train with one first class coach reserved for them, and on the wedding day there would be special trains to and from the junction, including a late evening train back there, far later than the normal last service on a Saturday. Each special train would be four coaches long and hauled by a tender engine. Just before Sunday lunchtime there would be another special for the veterans to leave.

Two members of the USAAF base band had measured up the large booking hall to install a dias for the band to play on, for dancing at the reception.

Dancing led to our first argument, fuelled by my false pride. I still had shrapnel in my left leg, a souvenir of the First World War. Although I had a walking stick, I usually kept it hidden in a cupboard in the Station Master's office. I had used it last winter when the platform was covered in ice, telling people I needed it to stop myself slipping. But really I should use it all the time. The walk to and from church each Sunday was a painful effort.

During the Second World War I had sat out, watching Brenda dance with Elmer. Both were competent dancers. I am not and couldn't be. The turns would be beyond me. Now Brenda insisted that I should dance with her at the reception. I protested that I couldn't.

"Of course you can, Andrew," she had said. "Even if I have to prop you up instead of that stick you hide away."

I should have known I had no secrets from Brenda.

"As you wife I'll support you, dancing and for everything else, including in bed. I'll enjoy dancing with John as my stand-in father, and Elmer, your best man, but I will dance at least one, probably more, slow dances with my husband even if I have to hold you up."

"Yes, Brenda, whatever you say, Brenda. Because I love you."

"And I love you, Andrew, and chose you even if Elmer is a better dancer."

"Better, Brenda? I can't really dance at all. Almost every man is a better dancer than me."

"So what? And, once we are married, you are going to use your walking stick. You should be proud of your wounds, not ashamed."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Andrew. I'd rather see you with a walking stick than in obvious pain as you are every Sunday when going to church. You will use it, please?"

"OK, Brenda, if you insist."

Her answer was a long kiss.

+++

On the Saturday my auction purchases arrived. The delivery driver and his mate were happy to unload and help me and the Rogers men set up the beds in the former Officers' Mess. Within two hours we had twenty-five beds made up with bedding, bedside lockers and wardrobes for each bed and the rest piled up in the old NCOs mess. I paid them for their help in cash and a crate of American beer. I think the beer was more welcome than the money.

The special train delivering the camping coaches on the Sunday was even easier. All we had to do was apply the brakes, put wooden sleepers above the track to make sure they wouldn't move even if someone released the brakes and connect the water and sewage.

It took me longer to fill up all the paraffin-using equipment. Each coach could now house a group of ten adults and several children. They were ready for use, now.

+++

Albert Smith, the replacement Station Master, arrived on the Thursday before the wedding. Like me, he had retired from a more important role. Albert was now acting as holiday cover wherever and whenever required. It didn't take me long to explain how to run Kilndown Road station because he had run larger and more complex operations before.

My intention had been that he should stay in my house, but Albert decided he would rather use one of the new camping coaches. He was going to take his family, including grandchildren to one during the school holidays and practising using one, particularly for meals, would be useful. I didn't object. Brenda and Joan Rogers were busy with wedding preparations and Albert might have been in their way. I was, and had been told fiercely to stay on the platform or in my office as much as possible.

+++

The veterans were back on the Friday, late afternoon. After settling themselves into the former Officers' mess their evening meal was in the refreshment room. James was helping because although the hostel was full it was with a local group who were self-catering. They had been to the hostel several times before, knew what they were doing and could help Michael if he needed help.

Albert joined me and the veterans for that meal and the drinks afterwards. As the future bridegroom I was the butt of many jokes but they were all in good humour. It was obvious that Brenda and I were liked and appreciated, as was the meal.

After the Saturday morning breakfast the veterans helped to clear the refreshment room and prepared for the wedding reception. Before the coach and lorries arrived to take everyone to the church a USAAF serviceman brought a car for Elmer to drive me to the church. The Base's commandant had lent his official Humber Snipe to take Brenda and her bridesmaids, the Rogers daughters, to the church. I was worried that Brenda and the bridesmaids would be too busy but the veterans' help meant that everything was ready with an hour to spare for the bride to get ready.

I was wearing my dress uniform with all my medals, that I didn't normally wear except on Remembrance day. They seemed to impress Elmer.

It was time for me to go. Elmer asked me to join him in the car just delivered by a USAAF driver. It was a pre-war Standard 8 tourer looking as it had just been received from the makers. The engine purred beautifully as we drove the five miles to the church. There was already a large crowd of the congregation and USAAF servicemen who saluted me and Elmer as we got out of the car. I returned their salute, even though, dressed as a Station Master, not a Brigadier, I shouldn't have.

The Vicar came forward to greet us before we went inside the church to sit in the front row. It was ten minutes before the due time. Would my bride be late? I gave Elmer the box containing Brenda's wedding ring.

Over the next five minutes the congregation took their seats as the USAAF band played some re-arranged Bach.

Two minutes before time I heard the car bringing Brenda and the bridesmaids arrive. John Rogers was outside waiting for them. Exactly on time, to the second, Brenda appeared at the church door. The band switched to the Bridal March from Lohengrin as Brenda came down the aisle with her hand crooked in John Rogers' arm, and followed by John's daughters. At the altar John stood aside as Brenda took her place beside me. She looked wonderful. I was astounded and delighted that she wanted to marry me, and so happy that I don't remember much about the ceremony except putting the ring on her finger.

Before we left the church, all the US personnel, past and present, had left to form a guard of honour outside the door. As we posed for photographs all the others were boarding USAAF transport to go to the reception at the station. Elmer drove the Standard 8 with the two bridesmaids in the back leaving well before Brenda and I got into the base commander's Humber Snipe. We drove very slowly to allow everyone else to get there first.

We made a formal entry to the large booking hall to a trumpet salute from the band. We stood in the booking hall to meet and thank everyone before they all went into the buffet in the Refreshment Room. The bridesmaids, Mrs Rogers, and James were serving everyone while Mr Rogers and his sons were organising the bar. There were many more people there than at the church. The special trains had brought a large number of single women from the market town, some who had been at the wartime dances with the GIs and some younger and older women. Every veteran and current USAAF serviceman seemed to have a female companion.

The wedding cake was wonderful. We hadn't seen anything like it for years. The icing alone used more sugar than an English family would have in a year's ration.

After about an hour of eating and drinking, Elmer had a drum roll from the band before he called for the speakers. Mr Rogers' speech as substitute Bride's father was admirably short and unembarrassing. Elmer's speech as best man was too fulsome about me. He ended with a surprise.