At 7.30am Saturday 11^th July on shed at Buckfastleigh four locomotives were being fired up, serviced, lubricated and cleaned in preparation for the day’s work ahead.  The banter amongst crews was the usual cheery, cheeky kind that only long standing friendships and respect for each other can produce.  Mixed liberally with that however, the real and very serious business of working on, under and around the quietly simmering beasts that were to be their steeds for the day.   Romantic?  Not a bit of it.  Just hard, dirty and sometimes unpleasant work that the travelling passengers never see, yet is so vital to the safety of the train and the people on it.

In contrast to the banter the weather outside the loco shed was far from cheery.  A solid grey sky threatened to dull the proceedings of the first day of the railway’s 1940s Weekend.  A “typical summer’s day” was the general consensus of those involved.  By the time that 5526 took the first service train out at 10.00am the ground was well and truly wet but, as the saying goes, the show must go on.  And, in a field at the front of the station, men in uniform bustled around half sodden tents and dug holes in the ground.  In true British tradition, which some call eccentricity, men in uniforms then crouched in these damp ‘trenches’, covering themselves in greatcoats and army issue capes as protection from the steadily advancing and persistent enemy – rain!

I’m told that this scene was a fairly accurate representation of the war in Europe but it seems far removed from my late father’s tales of his four years in the Middle East, where the constant sun bleached his hair a stunning blonde colour, which remained with him for the rest of his life.  But he would have appreciated seeing the beautiful restored Humber, a vehicle he drove whilst assigned to Bletchley Park on his return from Egypt, which could be inspected in the military camp in the field.  Here, amongst a splattering of WWII British military vehicles, could be found a larger collection of wartime jeeps and trucks of U.S.A. origin.

Several motorcycles of WWII vintage were also on display, along with their riders some of whom, we can only conclude, were forerunners of the Hell’s Angels.  By far my own favourite was the BMW motor bike and sidecar, and who’s going to argue if this combination of bike, riders and equipment cut you up on the road?  Word has it that the Mayor of Torbay has ordered half a dozen of these for the new in-house traffic wardens when they start patrolling in 2010.

Back at the station the plot thickened as the anti aircraft gun promised for the Military Train failed to materialise.  What did materialise, in true ‘Beam me up Scottie’ style and some of that well known British ingenuity was a large box, a length of drain pipe, a washing up liquid bottle, several toilet roll cardboard cores and a girt big piece of camouflage netting.  From this assortment appeared a ‘here’s one I made earlier’ anti aircraft gun mounted on the Lowmac and a worthwhile representation it was too.  Trouble is it didn’t photograph that way and whatever we do in Photoshop it steadfastly refuses to look like anything other than K9 in Dr Who.

It was getting near the time for 3803 to depart for Totnes with the five coach set and yes some civvies, often with their military escorts, were beginning to arrive in costume of the day.   They had negotiated the unexploded bomb in the station forecourt and congregated in little groups on the platform.  It has to be said that these people deserve a huge round of applause for making the effort and entering into the spirit of the weekend.

  By lunchtime the rain had really set in and didn’t let up for the remainder of the afternoon.  But  in the late morning our attention was taken by a film crew, making a section of a documentary on WWII female spies for the History Channel.  A full report on that is now appearing separately on this website.

An old friend of the South Devon Railway and a well known figure to so many volunteers appeared on Saturday afternoon, none other than Colin Kerswill.  His knowledge of the footplate and his skills upon it are indeed legendary.  His reception over the two days of his visit, by those who know him, was typical of the warmth and friendliness for which the Railway is so justifiably well known.

Sunday morning July 12^th promised a much more favourable day as far as the weather was concerned and in a direct turnaround from Saturday, 5526 pulled out of Buckfastleigh with the first train of the day in bright sunshine.  Once again there were arrivals of people in 1940s era clothes but unfortunately the good weather did attract a number of travelling salesmen, known colloquially as ‘spivs’.  I found the perfect definition of a spiv - "a person without employment who makes money by various dubious schemes; goes about smartly dressed and having a good time.", or to put it another way – a dodgy dealer.  There’s no doubt that the spivs we saw on Sunday were extremely dodgy but fortunately the long arm of the law soon fingered them.  Some of the ladies we spoke to who had bought tights were complaining that there was only one leg in some pairs.  However Inspector Kluless soon had the situation under control and kept a watchful eye on the station for the rest of the day.

The military in the field largely did their own thing and organised a convoy to, to……erh…….well it was a secret so we never did find out where they went to but they got back safely.  The Germans who were on the run got as far as Totnes at one stage, cunningly disguising themselves as Germans, but seemed confused by a group of Totnes hippies holding two fingers up and chanting “Peace bro, peace.”  Seeing this ‘mob’ they beat a hasty retreat to Buckfastleigh.

And so the day ended as it had begun, in glorious sunshine.  The spivs returned home and no doubt counted up the ten bob notes.  In the distance I can still hear those ladies complaining about one legged tights.  But then that’s the trouble with spivs when you complain – you don’t have a leg to stand on!