“Second Four-twelve in ditch at Grey’s Bridge. Broken rail. Engine and two cars derailed. Both tracks blocked. About four killed and injured.”
That wire has itself had the right-of-way. When “W-K, W-K, W-K” comes persistently calling over a railroad wire, every key closes. “W-K” is the “C-Q-D” of railroading. It is as much as any operator’s job is worth, to ignore it.
When a despatch of the sort just cited comes into headquarters, things start to move. The despatcher, if he is after the manner of most despatchers, turns to his telephone and calls the yardmaster to order out the wrecking-crew. There is no more excitement in his voice than if he were ordering out any ordinary sort of special. He rings off quickly, calls up in turn the superintendent, trainmaster, perhaps the division engineer, the claim department. If there is a fatality list—the wreck one of those fearful things that sometimes show themselves upon the front pages of the newspapers—he will get the hospitals and the doctors. The list of surgeons who are allied to the railroad in every town on the division hangs above the despatcher’s desk.
He may run a special hospital train with doctors and nurses and emergency equipment. On one memorable occasion the hospital train was on its way out upon the main line before the wreck had been reported over the wire. The despatcher saw that the hospital special had a clear track; he gave a multitude of directions as to its running, with the quick clear word of a self-possessed man—then turned and shot himself dead. He had miscalculated: the human machine sometimes does. He knew that he had sent the two crack-a-jack trains on that single-track division, curling its way among the mountains, into each other at full speed. No need for him to know exactly where they met.
But even if the wreck is no holocaust; if it is one of those minor smashes that are bound to come now and then on the best of lines, he must keep his head. As he caught up his telephone to get orders to that wrecking-boss out at the roundhouse, his assistant took instant notice of the wreck, first notifying the stations on either side of the accident to set danger-signals against all trains. After that, while the despatcher himself was busied with details, the assistant arranged to handle all traffic. If both tracks were blocked, there were plans to be instantly made to forward the fast through trains by detouring them over other lines of railroad. The assistant despatcher, wishing to know how long he could afford to hold his heavy traffic (remember that the line must always be kept open), wired the nearest station for additional details. Most of all he wanted to know how long the tracks would be blocked. Perhaps before he got his wire through there came a second message from the wreck, giving more facts about it. By means of code, great detail can be given in a short wire; headquarters gets a clear understanding of the trouble. After that the wire chatters constantly; there are a thousand orders to be given, a thousand details to be arranged.
The wrecking train ready to start out from the yard]
“Two of these great cranes can grab a wounded
Mogul locomotive and put her out of the way”
