Thomas and the Great War

The Engines Lament

The next day came and the engines were still asleep along with Christopher and their crew, and that's when the Fat Director came in blowing a guard's whistle at a very loud volume.

"GET UP AND OUT OF BED, ALL OF YOU!!" he boomed. "The War Department called and they are coming to inspect us and we have to sort the trucks and coaches into their proper sidings."

The engines yawned when they heard the whistle. Thomas' boiler bubbled when he heard that his prayers had been answered. Maybe he and the other engines would fight for their island after all.

"It will be a very messy job," said the Fat Director. "So no wash downs until the yard is spotless. It helps to conserve water for both our world and our fuel."

Since Christopher had nothing to do, the Fat Director gave him the task of cleaning James and Eagle so that they would be the first engines to look squeaky clean for the War Department's selection crew. With a tall brush in his right hand and a wooden bucket of soapy water in the other, Christopher set to work cleaning the more noticeable features of James and Eagle's best features: the cab roof, the brass dome and the entire body of red paint. He even brushed their tenders and tickled James' nose when the job was almost finished.

Then, after a minute and thirty seconds, Christopher asked the two red engines. "Have you two ever had itchy noses before in your life?"

"Maybe just one or two," James confessed. "But tell me the truth, Christopher, what do you think of my paintwork? Is it really everything an engine wants? A paint that matches the blood spilt from all the winter soldiers dying on the snowy battlefield?"

"I don't know," replied Christopher. "I heard you used to be black."

James gasped. "How did you know that?"

"I've been to the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway on a holiday four years ago, and all of the engines were painted black."

"You're quite the expert," remarked Eagle. "I was painted black too and I was also a little boastful of my red paint before James came along, now we are truly brothers."

Christopher envied the comment, if he had a brother, he would name him George after his uncle who lived in Hampshire.

Then he said. "You know, James, you wouldn't mind if I went down to the beach that's near from here? I like to clear my head when I want to go swimming, and besides, it is a rather hot day, isn't it?"

"Now that is most certainly one thing I am not looking forward to," muttered James and he puffed away with Eagle.

Thomas came up to see Christopher. Now it was his turn to be scrubbed, but was soon confused when he saw the boy heading in the direction of the sea.

"Thomas," Christopher began. "I'm just going to have a little dip in the beach, the day is getting hot and I do have cool down sometime."

"Okay," Thomas played along. "But just make sure you're back here in about thirty minutes, the spare cleaners aren't going to be here until 3:30."

So Christopher walked down to the beach by the station, he did not have a swimsuit in his sack, so he took off his shoes and shirt, wearing nothing but his short trousers. If he wanted to fully embrace the water in all its natural state, he would have gone skinny dipping but there were only a few people, some of them even children. Christopher would've loved to play with them but he didn't know if they were good or bad, despite the innocence in their little heads.

Without further ado, Christopher left his shirt, blazer, socks and shoes on a rock and ran into the nice, relaxing water of the sea, away from his father, away from the war, away from his isolated life at school back home. In fact, Christopher actually enjoyed a little bit of isolation in his life, making it look as though he were a strong minded and independent young man, ready to take on the wares and cares of adulthood.