THE LOST ‘DUB-DEE’
The WD 2-8-0 that didn’t make it
It is better to have a unique survivor of a locomotive class than none at all – but to have two is the icing on the cake. We’d all rather have pairs of ‘Britannias’, ‘Princess Royals’, Fairburn 2-6-4Ts and Thompson ‘B1s’ in preservation than just one, for instance – and we can’t help but look back wistfully at the lost opportunities to acquire further examples of certain significant designs. Perhaps the prime example is Isle of Wight ‘O2’ No. W24 Calbourne, whose classmate No. W31 Chale might just have been saved in 1967, if only sufficient funds had been available. Robert Riddles’ cheap, plain and functional War Department ‘Austerities’ were never held in such esteem by enthusiasts as the charismatic ‘O2s’ – but they occupied an equally important position in railway history, and so it is an equally alluring thought that preservation could have had a second ‘Dub-Dee’ 2-8-0. If anything, it is even more frustrating – for those two WDs had managed to survive into a preservation era where they were actually wanted. This is the story of how one was saved – and the other came close.
SECOND CHANCE IN SWEDEN
Remarkably, despite their huge numbers – 733 in total, with examples allocated to every region of BR at some time – not a single British ‘Dub-Dee’ escaped the acetylene torch. All was not lost, however; until its recent withdrawal with leaking tubes, a BR black ‘Austerity’ could still be seen rattling and banging its way between the dry-stone walls, satanic mills and factory chimneys that surround the Keighley & Worth Valley Railway, and will do so again once it has been given another ‘heavy general’ overhaul at Haworth. As detailed in SR476, this engine – numbered 90733 to represent a BR example – is in fact an historic hybrid, having spent its working career in the Netherlands and Sweden before becoming part of the latter country’s famous ‘strategic reserve’. In 1958, with the Cold War hotting up, the two Swedish State Railways (Statens Järnvägar) WDs – SJ class ‘G11’ Nos. 1930 and 1931 – were withdrawn from service and stored in a shed, hidden away deep in the snowy forests of northern Sweden, at Mellansjö. A fleet of mothballed steam locomotives, secretly squirrelled away in working order and awaiting the call to action in the event of nuclear war, is a fanciful notion long dreamt of by enthusiasts in this country. But in Sweden it really happened – and it is thanks to this that we can still hear the clank of a WD 2-8-0 in the West Riding.
FROZEN IN ASPIC
In June 1972, an article on Swedish Railways locomotives in Railway World, written by Brian Garvin, highlighted the survival of the two ‘G11s’ – and at the end of September that year, two explorers from the KWVR went on a journey to find them. Richard Greenwood (best known as a part-owner of ‘West Country’ No. 34092 City of Wells) was one of the trio who put up the money to buy one and were later repaid by the railway; the others being Mike Goodall and Freddie Bullock. Richard recalls: “I was in Germany at the time, so I flew over to Sweden to meet Mike, who’d come across on the ferry, and off we went. It was a long trip – we had to stay a night on the way. “We passed a sign saying ‘Mellansjö’ and then saw the back of another sign, which also said ‘Mellansjö’, but there’d only been one building between them! “The building turned out to be a shop, and the owner didn’t speak English – but a customer came in who did, and they directed us down a track to the shed with the engines outside.”
IT EVENTUALLY DAWNED ON US THAT WE WERE OUT OF OUR DEPTH. BUYING FROM BR OR BARRY WAS A CINCH COMPARED WITH THIS
HOWARD JOHNSTON
Nobody was there to greet them: “Swedish Railways was expecting us to meet its representatives at Ånge, but the letter detailing the arrangements hadn’t arrived at Mike’s house until after he’d set off! “We looked at both engines and came to the conclusion that neither was in tip-top condition – they had firebox problems and the tyres were thin – but on balance, No. 1931 was better. “We knew it would need a lot of money spending on it eventually – but we thought ‘if we don’t do it now, we never will’.” The purchase price was a very reasonable £1,850, though it cost almost as much again – “about £1,250 if I remember correctly” – to transport it home. Fortunately, the KWVR had another member, Howard Malham, who worked for a Bradford firm importing and exporting, and “understood the ins and outs of Customs!” SJ moved No. 1931 south to Gothenburg, where by the time Richard flew back to take delivery, it was already on the lorry ready to go. Shipped to Hull docks, the Vulcan Foundry-built 2-8-0 arrived at its new home in January 1973, being unloaded at Ingrow. Then came the great reward; unlike the slog of restoring a Barry wreck, all they had to do was reprofile the Swedish cab roof, fit new safety valves and vacuum brake gear, and hydraulically test the boiler. Well, not quite, says Richard: “First we had to fish all the bags of silica gel out of the boiler through the washout plug holes!” These had been placed inside when the locomotive was put into store, to keep it dry and well-preserved.
THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY
So one ‘Dub-Dee’ was safe – but the other would not be so fortunate. SJ No. 1930 might have been running today on the Nene Valley Railway – perhaps given a BR identity like No. 90733, and carrying the wholly authentic local shedplate for the class of 34E New England, just as the KWVR example wears 56F Low Moor. Steam Railway’s previous editor, Howard Johnston, a founder member of the Peterborough Locomotive Society in 1968 (the NVR’s progenitor) was behind the preservation attempt. To carry out a detailed inspection, Howard enlisted fellow member Michael Bacon, formerly assistant works manager at the Vulcan Foundry (albeit during diesel-building days) and later the NVR’s Chairman and Chief Mechanical Engineer, who died in 1997. Howard takes up the story: “Motivated by the 1972 Railway World article, I outrageously wrote to SJ expressing interest in purchasing one. How many people in their very early 20s would do that now? “Of course I didn’t have the sort of money needed to secure it, but I envisaged it going to the NVR, and a member had been successfully persuaded to make a very substantial contribution that would have covered its purchase. “Remarkably, SJ said that both were available. I accepted an invitation to view them, and personally footed the bill for Michael Bacon (an ex-Eastleigh senior engineer, and a student of Bulleid who told me he had worked on the ‘Leader’ class). We flew out to Sweden on October 4 1972 to conduct full inspections. “For both of us, it was a 1,400-mile trip into the unknown, using a combination of flights to Gothenburg, and a 250-mile onward rail journey to Ånge, where we were collected for the road journey into the remote forest. “Having travelled so far, it was quite a surprise to discover that ‘an English group’, quickly identified as the KWVR, had been there
just a couple of weeks before us. The engines had been dragged out of their storage shed, and despite exhibiting signs of heavy use, were smartly turned out. As No. 1931 seemed to be spoken for, Mike and I were quite relaxed about taking on its companion.” The NVR was still almost five years away from reopening, and the prospect of receiving a ‘free’ WD without exerting any effort must have seemed appealing.
MIRED IN RED TAPE
With the purchase covered and agreed, SJ did not seem to be in any great hurry to dispose of No. 1930, allowing plenty of time to overcome the hefty barriers of raising funds to cover the transport costs, and organising the movement. Shifting locomotives by road at this time was virtually uncharted territory, and it proved difficult to obtain realistic quotes from hauliers both skilled enough – and willing – to perform the task. Eventually, (now defunct) Sunters of Northallerton agreed to do the move, but there was a new problem – obtaining a fixed quote. The British economy was having a rough time, with inflation running at 10% in 1973, rising to 16% in 1974, and peaking at a staggering 25% in 1975. Howard continues: “We couldn’t keep pace, and we just didn’t have the skills set to overcome the barrier of communication. It could take weeks between letters with SJ, the shipping company and the haulier, each one moving the goalposts every time. “Although I recall that SJ was prepared to sell No. 1930 for around £2,700 (about £37,000 today) which remarkably included its movement to Gothenburg, we became mired in red tape, and it eventually dawned on us that we were out of our depth. Buying from BR or Barry was a cinch compared with this. “Years later, I know there might well have been someone who could have brought the project to a successful conclusion, but I couldn’t find that person. It has to be remembered that the UK’s preserved railways at that time were small in number, and often desperately short of money as they tried to find their feet.” “There has been talk since that the NVR planned to convert No. 1930 back to BR style. This was never discussed because we never got to that stage, and the NVR can run with Continental gauge stock.” Which number it might have had is also a moot point: “The NVR might well have converted it before the KWVR – then Keighley’s would have been No. 90734.” While on the subject of might-have-been ‘cops’, he adds: “No. 1930 (WD No. 78529, North British works number 25428 of October 1944) was one of a batch that included BR acquisitions, and would have become No. 90370 in the sequence of NB engines if it had been returned to this country after the war. Likewise, the KWVR’s engine would then have joined the Vulcan series as No. 90701.”
A FADING DREAM
Howard concludes: “Although several people have turned the story into a romantic drama in recent years, I must put the record straight because I have no recollection whatsoever of No. 1930 being cut up by mistake. It is also a silly tale that SJ labelled it for preservation, but only did so on one side.” This talk may have stemmed from the NVR telling society members in November 1975 that No. 1930 had apparently been shunted into a scrapyard in error, and by the time it was noticed, a start had been made on breaking it up. Preservation history is littered with such dashed hopes and dreams; Chale in 1967; ‘A1’ No. 60145 Saint Mungo the previous year; the last ‘Saint’, No. 2920 Saint David, in 1953… The movement has since righted the latter two of those wrongs with new-build Tornado and ‘Hall’ conversion Lady of Legend – and the Isle of Wight Steam Railway has even proposed a second ‘O2’. But the WDs had nothing like the same enthusiast following, and it’s hard to imagine support being forthcoming to build a replica 2-8-0 if neither had survived. At least we still have No. 90733, whose unique status now makes it all the more special.