The Osceola and St. Croix Valley Ry. has scheduled steam trains over the weekend at Osceola, and you and I have been given the assignment as the "light off" crew on locomotive NP 328, a 4-6-0 built by American in 1907. I phoned you earlier in the week, to confirm that we should meet at 2:00 am on Saturday, to get the locomotive ready to turn over to the day crew by 8:00. Since you said that you'd never assisted a light off before, I promised I'd do everything I could to get you involved, as a learning experience. You were reminded to bring a lantern and work clothes. During the week, some of our ground crews had checked last weekends engineers inspection reports, had made any repairs listed, and had stacked a supply of broken up pallet lumber for kindling nearby. The steam superintendent called me on Friday afternoon to confirm that all supplies had been replenished, the repairs needed had been made, and all was "go". "The engine's on the Polaris track," he said. "Have a nice night. I'll stop by about daybreak", was his closing comment. My wife an I went to dinner Friday evening at a "family" restaurant in suburban St. Paul. One doesn't consider having a cocktail, since we're subject to the same mandatory testing programs as the Class I roads, or any other operation subject to FRA. MTM has complied fully with all FRA requirements since we started, so now that FRA is extending their authority to all tourist railway operations we're already prepared for it. I left St. Paul about 9:00 pm in my pickup camper, and it takes just about an hour to get to Osceola. Of course, I stopped at the quick shop for a supply of donuts. When I arrived at Osceola, thundershowers were on the horizon. I pulled up to about 150 feet from the 328, parked, took a last look at the lightning to the west, climbed into the camper and laid down to rest for a few hours. Rain began to fall a few minutes later, and I drifted off to sleep. At 1:55 I awoke to hear your car in the parking lot, got up, put on by boots, grabbed my electric lantern, and stepped outside. The rain had quit, but everything was thoroughly soaked. Mosquitoes hummed about. A broken sky showed a quarter moon in the western sky, and flashes of lightning to the east, north and west. We exchanged a few pleasantries, and discussed the possibility of more showers (as if there were something we could do about it). Then we set off to light off the 328. First thing we do is to protect ourselves from other trains. I know, it's 2:00 in the morning, there's nothing else besides our steam train and our diesel excursion train running on the branch line today, the entrance to the yard is padlocked and protected by a derail, and the Wisconsin Central and Canadian Pacific aren't even turning a wheel anywhere within 150 rail miles of us. But still, the first thing we do is to "blue flag" the engine. I take a large padlock from my grip, and we walk about 400 feet to the entrance switch to the spur track known as the Polaris. The switch is lined to prevent entrance to the Polaris, and I lock it with my padlock. Walking back, we pick up a blue painted metal "flag" on a metal staff that is bent in such a way that it can clip onto a rail, and put it in place about 300 feet from the engine. We're now protected by the padlock, and by the flag, as only the workmen who place a blue flag are authorized to remove it. No moving equipment may pass a blue flag. Returning to the 328, I ask you to climb up on the smokebox and remove the stack cover, which you do. The stack cover is simply a cover from a 55 gallon steel drum, held from blowing away by a large rock. To prevent rainwater from rusting out the interior of the smokebox, the stack cover has been left there all week. It was placed there at the end of the day last Sunday, by the crew going home, to suffocate the fire and kill the engine for the week. I also ask you to open the 2 inch globe valve on the turret right in front of the cab, to vent the boiler to the outside. With this open, any air that is trapped in the boiler will be expelled when we start generating steam. We'll close it when she starts steaming. While you're doing that, I shine my light into the ashpan, and note that it's empty. Last weeks engineer dumped it before putting away the engine, and when I turn the engine over to the day engineer, he'll want to know. I light my gas lantern, and we climb up into the cab. We open the storm curtains, slide open the side windows, open the front doors, and hang the lantern where it will do some good. We unlock the tool boxes, located in the space in the front of the tender's water legs. I remove the heavy chain which locked the throttle closed. I open and shut the throttle a couple times to be sure the linkage if working freely, and that the valve is seated in the closed position. There are three blowdowns on the 328; one on each side of the firebox and one at the front center. Each one is opened for a few seconds, then closed. I shine my lantern on the water stream of each. At first, a tinge of reddish water issues, then it turns clear. We check that all valves in the cab which would supply steam to boiler appliances are closed, and open the cylinder cocks. Now, it's time to inspect the firebox. The grate remains covered with ash and coke from the fire that was suffocated last week. I take the shaker bar from the tender, and dump the grates. There are four sections of the firebox, each with about 8 grate segments and its own mechanism for dumping them. This creates a lot of dust in the firebox, so we wait a few minutes before climbing in. While the dust settles, we put on our overalls, eye protection, a dust mask, and hard hats, then latch open the firedoor. I ask you to climb in first, since I know you'll remove most of the soot from the firedoor on your way through, and I won't get quite so dirty. Rank has its privileges. Though only about 60 degrees outside, its about 85 in here. The engine hasn't been used in over five days, but it still retains some heat. Our every movement stirs a cloud of dust and ash from what remained on the grates, but we note that there is already a small amount of draft pulling the dust into the flues. It won't be enough to start the fire though. "What are we inspecting for?" you ask. "Anything that doesn't look right", I reply. The firebox is about 4 1/2 feet wide by 7 1/2 feet long by 4 1/2 feet high. Two 4 inch diameter arch tubes run from the bottom front sheet to the top of the back sheet. A firebrick arch is supported by these tubes. We check the arch tubes for evidence of overheating or blisters. The brick must be firmly supported, the grates in proper placement. The entire firebox is held to the outer boiler wrapper with staybolts that are threaded into the 3/8 inch thick firebox steel, then hammered over on the inside. Ideally, there should be no leakage from any of them, but we notice that three of them show a white scale indicating leakage, and one even has a line of wetness in a line from the staybolt to the bottom of the side sheet, dripping into the ashpan. These will be noted on the inspection report. A careful inspection is made of the crown sheet - the roof of the firebox, and the weakest part of the boiler. We look for any evidence of warpage, cracking, or discoloration of the steel. If there is, the engine won't be used. Most boiler failures are from a collapse of the crown sheet. Shining my light over the arch brick, I inspect the tube sheet. There's no evidence of leakage. I do notice some ash laying up near the front of the arch, and I chuckle to myself. Last weeks overzealous fireman must have thrown some of the coal over the arch, instead of onto the grate! With our gloved hands, we brush away the remaining ash and dust from the edges of the grate, and inspect the second weakest part of the boiler - where the firebox is riveted to the outer boiler shell at the mud ring. If last weeks fireman had allowed his fire to become too thin here, these sheets could have been overheated, as water circulation is poorest right above the mud ring. The coal and coke of the firebed actually burns cooler than the air above it, so the fireman should keep the edges banked to protect the mud ring from overheating. Everything is acceptable in here, so we climb back out through the firedoor. I ask you to check the water level in the tender. You climb up on top, open the hatch and report the water's down about 2 feet from the top. We've got plenty of water to get the day crew to their first water stop. I check the water level in the boiler. The water glass shows 1/2 inch of water above the bottom of the glass. I also notice that there's a drop of water every few seconds falling from the packing nut at the bottom of the glass. Hmmmm. This could be trouble - check this again later, maybe it will seal itself when it heats up. Federal law requires that the bottom of the glass be at least 3 inches above the crown sheet. We've got a half inch to spare. This will be plenty, because as the boiler heats up tonight, the water will expand, and rise about 4 inches in the glass. To make sure the glass is working and that I'm not just seeing condensation collected in the glass, I drain the glass. There's a routine to this, that is learned by a fireman even before he learns to throw coal. Open the bottom drain first; second, close the lower pipe into the boiler; third, close the top pipe connection to the boiler. Then, open the lower boiler connection; open the top boiler connection; close the drain. One - two - three: Two - three - one. Procedure. The same every time. This routine assures you that all pipe connections are blown out of any dirt, scale, or whatever, and that the gauge accurately shows the true water level. As another check on the water level, there are three "try cocks" on the backhead of the boiler. When the engine is running, opening the top one should give steam; opening the bottom give water; and opening the middle should give a mixture of steam and water. I now open all three, and water trickles out of the bottom one. I close the bottom two, leaving the top one open. This will serve as a telltale to tell me when the water starts to turn to steam. I instruct you to put about 80 or 90 scoops of coal into the firebox, evenly distributed across the grate. Then, pile all that wood, on the ground over there, in the middle of that. While you're doing that, I'll go start up the air compressor. We use a large, portable air compressor mounted on a trailer to create a draft to the fire until steam comes up to enough pressure to use the blower on the engine. It's parked about 75 feet from the engine. After starting, and warming up, the diesel powered air compressor, I connect a 1 inch air hose from the compressor to a fitting on the locomotive for this purpose. This fitting is located below the smokebox on the blower pipe, which leads to a jet beneath the stack, creating a draft. Air is drawn in through the grates, through the fuel, through the firebox, through the flues, into the smokebox, and out the stack. I climb into the cab and inspect your firebox. With the compressor supplying the blower, the draft has pulled all the dust out, and it looks good. However, both the coal and the wood were thoroughly soaked from the rain. This is going to be hard to start a fire with this. I get a five gallon pail of diesel fuel, and another of kerosene. The coal scoop is filled with coal, and diesel fuel poured over it, then tossed onto the wood pile in the firebox. Then another. And another. And several more. Then, a rag is soaked in kerosene and tossed into the base of the wood pile. Finally, I strike a fusee and toss it onto the rag. I check my watch: 2:40. Slowly, reluctantly, the fire spreads from the fusee, to the rag, to the diesel oil above, then to the coal on top of the wood. As the wood dries out from this heat, the wood starts to burn, and in about 15 minutes we have a good crackling fire. Strange sound for a locomotive to make! Sounds more like a campground. I look outside at the stack. The heavy air after the rains doesn't allow to smoke to rise, but it rolls instead toward the residential area to the northwest. Not much I can do about that, but I'll have to do whatever I can to minimize the smoke. The lightning is getting closer, but some stars can be seen in the broken clouds overhead. We leave the firedoor open to allow air into the firebox for better combustion. I ask you to throw a few scoops of coal onto the burning woodpile, and I go out to the globe valve controlling the air supply to the blower, and turn it down until the smoke starts come out the firedoor instead of going up the stack. Then I open it a bit to get till the smoke stops coming out the firedoor. Walking back to the cab, I remove the two swabs from the engines cross compound air pump. Each swab is a 1 inch wide strip of spring steel, bent to clip around a piston rod on the pump. They are wrapped with several layers of heavy yarn, which holds oil and helps lubricate these piston rods. I find a coffee can, pour about a half pint of valve oil into it, and drop the swabs into the oil to soak. While I've got the valve oil out, I fill two two-quart oil cans with it, and set them on top of the boiler backhead so they'll warm up. Now, the watching and waiting. We can take off our overalls, and make some coffee in the camper. I bring the camper so I don't have to stand outside or up in the cab swatting mosquitoes. The donuts are enjoyed, too. We check the fire about every 10 minutes or so, tossing in a scoop of coal if needed, and adjusting the blower to compensate for the increasing fire. In about a half hour, the fire has spread over the entire grate, except for a small part of the front right corner. The wood has been consumed, and the coals burn a dull blackish red color. Not at all like the intense white inferno that will be required later in the day to pull the train. I close the firedoor. In the cab, I place my ungloved hand on the washout plugs in the backhead of the boiler. Two of these are directly in line with the back end of the arch tubes, and will be the first part of the boiler to warm up. Other parts of the boiler, such as the washout plugs near the front of the boiler, will not feel warm for nearly an hour after lightoff, and the bottom edge of the mud ring won't feel hot for several hours. At 20 minutes after four, steam starts sputtering from the try cock I'd left open, so I close it; and 10 minutes later steam issues steadily from the vent pipe on the turret. You get to close that one. At 10 minutes after five, the needle on the steam gauge finally lifts off the pin. Two hours and thirty minutes after lightoff - we're right on schedule. I ask you to blow down the water glass again. One - two - three, two - three - one. You're a quick study. Water continues to seep and drip from the lower packing nut. The water level is now about half a glass, due to expansion. I grab a wrench and try tightening the packing nut, but it's down tight. Give it more time, maybe it'll still tighten itself. Now, we can manage the fire. I instruct you to keep 'er hot enough to raise the pressure no more than two pounds per minute. One pound per minute is even better, since we've still got plenty of time. The day crew isn't called 'till 8:00. Keep the blower down, just enough to keep the smoke from coming out the firedoor into the cab. A brightening eastern horizon turns to dark overhead, and there's increasing lightening to the west and north. We'll see more rain. By a quarter to six, you've got 17 pounds on the gauge. That's OK, you're learning. We've still got plenty of time, and even if we don't have 175 psi for the day crew at 8:00, it'll be good enough. We open each of the blowdown cocks for 10 seconds to drain off cold water and increase circulation. It's light enough now to put away the gas lantern, but it's starting to rain lightly. I shut off the air line from the portable compressor and turn on the steam line in the cab which supplies the blower. I can now shut down the compressor, and the engine is now self sustaining. I open two small drain cocks in the blower line which allows condensate to escape rather than to squirt out the stack and rain down on us. Let's start up the generator. With a 10 inch crescent wrench and an oil can - journal oil, not valve oil - we climb on top of the boiler to the compressor. There are two oil cups which are opened and filled. A 1/4 inch copper pipe runs from the bottom of the turbine, to drain condensate. It disappears under the boiler jacket. We open the drain cock in this line, and climb down. In the cab, the steam line to the generator is cracked open. Not enough, yet, to generate electric power, but enough to start warming the turbine. EVERYTHING must be warmed slowly. At 35 psi, we can try the injectors. Make sure the injector is shut off. Turn on the steam supply at the turret Open the cutoff valve at the boiler check. Open the overflow valve. Make sure the tender water supply lines are turned open at the bottom of the tender. Obvious, but important, I tell you. "Two years ago, one of our engineers forgot to check that. When the injector refused to prime, he assumed there was a blockage in the supply pipe. To cure it, he shut off the overflow and opened the steam, figuring he'd be able to blow the obstruction back into the tender. Of course, this didn't work, and instead he blew up the rubber hose connecting the engine and tender." Ooooops! At this low pressure, these things are fidgety. Crack it slowly. OK, you've got a prime, now open it fully. A blast of steam from the bottom of the overflow quickly rises and fills the cab, as you shut off the injector. You lost the prime. "Not a bad, for a first try. Try again." Well, ya didn't get it on the second, third or fourth try either. But, you're learning. On the fifth try, it works. You grin as you listen to metallic rumble of water flowing into the boiler. Now, shut it off and try the other one. Great! You got it on first try! You shut it off and do it again. Allright! I notice a puddle of water on the cab floor beneath the injector. Well, the injector works, but I guess we have to question the plumbing. A 36 inch wrench and a 42 inch wrench are applied to the both sides of the offending pipe union. That's why they assign two of us to this job I guess. Takes big tools to work on one of these things. We try the injector again, and the leakage has stopped. Check the fire. Pressure up to 65. Adjust the blower. Blow down the glass: One - two - three, two - three - one. Still leaking. Lets start greasing. Two Alemite guns are taken out of the toolbox, and fresh grease cartridges are inserted. You can apply the grease, so better put your overalls back on. I show you a place where you can climb over the drive wheels, and squeeze between the frame and the boiler, to drop down onto the ties between the frames. Don't burn yourself on the blower pipe. This engine has Stephenson "monkey motion" valve gear, and 'most everything is in there between the frames. There's Alemite fittings on just about everything that rocks, turns, or rolls. You must grease them all. Also, the running gear, including all spring pads, rockers, equalization levers, and pins must be greased. There are also two sliding bearing blocks where the firebox is fastened to the frame that are equipped with Alemite fittings. You spend a half hour in there, and nearly empty both grease guns. When you finished, you were laying on the track flat on your back on the ties, with your legs draped over a brake beam and your feet under the cylinders. Mosquitoes, seeking refuge from the rain, as well as breakfast, have found those parts of your anatomy not protected by the overalls. Frustrated, hot and tired, you throw the grease guns out to me, (or at me, I'm not sure which) and ask if I see a way out. Well, at least you're dry and out of the rain. "Are we havin' fun yet?" I show you an opening next to your right shoulder, and you wiggle over the rail, between two of the drivers, and squeeze past a brake shoe. "Gawd, those drivers are big!" While you were under there, I was tending the fire, checking the water level, and getting the air pump ready to start. I also closed the condensate drains on the blower pipes and the generator. The generator is now up to speed and we have electric lights, although with daylight they aren't really needed. I've opened the valve supplying steam to the lubricator, and start getting it warmed up for about 20 minutes. There's still enough valve oil in it from last week to start up the air pump. Pressure is up to 95, and we can start the air pump. Three lubricants must be supplied to the air pump. First, I take the swabs that have been soaking in valve oil for the past several hours, and clip them onto the piston rods. Then, with the 10" crescent wrench, I remove the caps on the oil cups and fill both of them with Regal compressor oil. Finally, I start the lubricator. The 328 has a three feed lubricator. The middle feed supplies the air pump. I slowly open its needle valve, and watch the oil drip upwards through water in the sight glass. Without steam going into the pump, the oil does a poor job of moving through the lubricator as it's supposed to, but instead sort of congeals around the needle valve - it doesn't even want to float! I open the steam supply to the air pump a little. Just enough to start getting the casting warmed up. It has its own set of cylinder cocks, and these were already opened. As a stream of condensate pours out from the pumps cylinder cocks, the lubricators center feed breaks free, and the oil starts to drip upward. I set it for a drop every seven seconds. The pump still isn't compressing any air, but is just warming up. I increase the steam supply a bit, and the pump throbs for the first time. Then again. And, it's running. Slowly, at first. There's no load to compress against, as the air reservoirs are empty, so we let it beat slowly as it warms it's cylinders. We can hear the hiss of compressed air escaping from the bleed valves on the reservoirs, so we close them. Ten minutes later, I open the steam supply a bit more, and the compressor gains a bit of speed. The air gauge now reads 12 psi in the main reservoir. Again, the blow down cocks are opened briefly, then closed slowly. The water glass is blown down again. Still leaking at the lower packing nut. Not a bad leak. The wrench won't tighten it enough, but the day crew could easily get by with it all day. A car has pulled up and parked about 300 feet away. Railfans. Two guys get out, one with a camera, the other video tape. Too bad! They've already missed most of our day! And they thought they'd get an early start. The shower has quit, and we can see the sun rise on the eastern horizon, but now it's very threatening to the west. There's more rain coming, and it's going to be heavy this time. Boiler pressure is 135. Main reservoir air is 90. I open the air pump steam line to full, and close the pumps cylinder cocks. "Let's try and get the heavy lubrication done before that storm hits," I tell ya. A large grease gun and air hose, specifically designed for greasing locomotives, is kept in the tool box. This thing is huge. It appears to be cast of aluminum, but it still weighs in at about 40 lbs. The 1 inch air line is coupled to a fitting in the main reservoir pipe just behind the main reservoir. This is a two man job. The main rods and crossheads are lubricated with a very heavy grease. This gun puts it there. At each grease fitting, I couple the gun to the fitting, and you feed plugs of cut grease into the gun as I pull the air trigger and force the grease into the joint. Bang-bang. Bang-bang. Bang-bang. As the grease oozes along the crankpins and into each joint, the heavy siderods and mainrods visibly lift off their pins, and allow the grease to fill the voids. After about a half dozen "squirts" in each joint, the grease oozes from the joint. Then we quit and move on to the next one. It's about 7:30 when the steam Supt. shows up. We're still greasing. After the usually pleasantries, he asks, "How 're things goin'?" I tell him about the leaking packing nut on the gauge glass, as we finish greasing the last fitting. We climb back into the cab with the grease gun and hose to put in the tool box. While I'm putting that away, he's studying the leak. He decides to blow down the glass. One - two - three, two - WHOOPS! The packing in the nut blows out through the small hole that had been leaking, and fills the cab with steam. At the same time, a bolt of lightning strikes nearby, and cracks loudly. The sky opens, and it begins to rain very hard. I glance at you and notice you're white as a ghost. "No, the boiler didn't explode. Only the packing on the water glass. Gave you a start, though, didn't it?" I reach in the tool box, and pull out an 18 inch wrench. The Super has already shut off the leaking steam lines. I put the wrench to the pipe couplings on the gauge glass, and start taking things apart. "Boy, I'm glad you did that!" I tell him as I hand him the parts. The torrential rain only lasted about 5 minutes, turned into a gentle shower, and in 15 minutes it was all over. The Super finished disassembly by hand and carefully wrapped packing thread around the glass before reassembling them. He bolted them back into place with the 18 inch wrench, and tried opening the steam and water valves, but it blew out again. Repeat. Disassemble, repack, and reassemble. It holds on the third try. It's nearly 8:00 when the day fireman shows up. He's glad to know that the packing was replaced BEFORE he got there. He takes a peek at the fire, the water level, and blows down the glass. Everything meets with his approval. We still haven't filled the lubricator. I shut off the steam supply, close the oil feeds, open the drain valve, and crack open the steam supply, while you hold a coffee can below the drain opening. An oil, steam, water mixture spurts, sputters, and splashes about. Some of it actually winds up in the coffee can. It takes four rags to wipe off the backhead and you. With the lubricator drained, I shut off the steam, and remove the plug from the filler opening. Warm valve oil, from one of the containers set on top of the boiler several hours ago, is poured into the opening. It's plugged again, and the steam turned on. The day crew engineer arrives, and by this time there's probably 20 other people gathered around, taking pictures, watching, B.S.'ing, and in some cases actually doing useful work. In five minutes, the condensate from the steam line has filled the water reservoirs in the lubricator. I crack open the throttle, and steam issues from the cylinder cocks to start warming the cylinders. I adjust the lubricator to one drop every 5 seconds on each cylinder, then shut it off. "Sorry, we didn't get the light oiling done. Had a bit of trouble with the rain and a leaking packing on the water glass," I tell the day engineer. "No problem. I'll take care if it while doing my inspection," he replies. "OK. We're done. We'll take down the blue flag and open the switch. She's all yours." I toss my gloves into the firebox. They're too dirty and greasy take with me. We do those things, then hang around for another 25 minutes while the day crew does their inspection and oiling. I guess we like to watch, too. A satisfying night. We started with 60 tons of cold steel, some seven hours ago, and we have given it life.