At the controls of 400-ton trains moving at speeds up to 75 mph, NJ Transit engineers look out from their locomotives at an ever-changing landscape of potential tragedies.

Those shadows moving in the woods up ahead -- are they teenagers horsing around too close to the tracks or just the wind blowing through the bushes?

That commuter running around the safety gate -- is he going to stop or will he continue on his dangerous dash to catch the train?

The woman with her head bowed at the edge of the rail platform -- is she deep in thought or getting ready to jump?

"It happens so quick, you're helpless," said Bob Daniels, an engineer since the 1960s. Five times, someone died after being hit by trains he operated. "There's nothing you can do. In those three or four seconds, you know you're going to hit them. It's not pleasant."

Roughly twice a month, someone is hit by a NJ Transit train somewhere in New Jersey. Last year, the death toll was 27. In 2001, it was 31. The year before that, 21. Government reports categorize the cases as suicides, accidents and "undetermined."

To the train engineers, the official classification don't offer much solace. The deaths haunt some of them for decades, as they relive the sound of a hollow thump of the body against the train, the sight of the shoes knocked off a corpse.

Rare is the engineer who gets through a career without hitting someone. Wayne Pierson, who works on NJ Transit's Morris and Essex lines, considers himself fortunate because he "only had one fatal" in his 38 years on the rails. In comparison, John Billington Jr. operated trains that killed 13 people during his 50 years in railroads.

"I've seen guys who had to be relieved," from duty, said Billington. "The younger generation, they're more sensitive. I come from the old school."

"I wouldn't say we were immune to it, because we were compassionate," continued Billington, who retired in 1995. "But when they asked me if I wanted to see a psychiatrist, I said, 'No. I didn't do anything wrong. I just ran my trains.'"

Engineers say they try not to learn too much about the victims.

"I don't want to know where they lived, whether they had families, what kind of jobs they had," Daniels said. "It's hard enough without knowing all that."

In Leo Tolstoy's novel, Anna Karenina killed herself by lunging under the wheels of a rail freight car, well behind the locomotive and view of the engineer. That's not how it usually happens, however. Most often, the train hits the person straight-on and the engineer has a horrifying front-row seat.

"Many times, they look up at the engineer right before they get hit," said Daniels. "You never forget that face."

Railroad officials say there is little engineers can do when someone suddenly appears on the tracks in front of them. They blow the whistle. They pull down on the emergency brake. They cringe and pray.

Pierson was involved in a fatal collision in the early 1980s.

"It was a Saturday night, last train from Summit to Gladstone," he said. "There was a big sweeping curve near the Shop-Rite in Bernardsville. I came around and there he was, sitting on the north track. It was 10:15 when I hit him."

Pierson's train was going about 50 mph, he said. The train knocked the young man 60 feet from the tracks, and he was still alive when an ambulance arrived. Pierson said he finished his route at Gladstone station and then went to police headquarters to give a statement about the incident.

When he got home, Pierson was alone. He called Morristown Memorial Hospital to check on the victim's condition.

"They told me he died at 1:30 in the morning," said Pierson.

NJ Transit tries different programs to improve rail safety. But no matter how many fences and signs and safety gates the agency puts up, the fatalities keep happening. People ignore the warnings and make their way around the barriers, out onto the tracks in front of an oncoming train.

"People think we can stop on a dime," said Pierson. "They don't understand."

Lately, there have been several close calls at the Walnut Street station in Montclair.

In their rush to catch their morning trains, some commuters have been cutting across the rails, rarely checking to see if other trains were coming on the adjacent tracks. Under similar circumstances, a young woman was killed at the train station in South Amboy last year.

"It's an accident waiting to happen," said NJ Transit's spokeswoman Penny Bassett Hackett.

To try to prevent a tragedy at Walnut Street, the agency has changed the spot where eastbound trains stop in the station, moving them farther along the tracks to block the perilous crossing. Hackett also took Montclair school children on a tour of the station to warn them of the dangers.

Engineer Joe Joraskie used to accompany Hackett for safety talks at schools in Middlesex County, telling students the story of the young man who laid down in front of one of his trains in Westfield almost 20 years ago.

At the end of one school visit, a teenager yelled at Joraskie, calling him a "murderer."

"I stopped doing it after that," he said.

Joraskie already had endured other torment. Not long after the Westfield fatality, he said he noticed some people regularly showing up near the rails during his morning run. It turned out they were the victim's parents, he said.

"They used to stand by the tracks, right where it happened and look up at the train as it went by," he recalled. "They blamed me."

Not always are families so bitter toward the engineers. Barbara LaMarca's daughter, Theresa, committed suicide last May, stepping in front of an Amtrak train in Elizabeth with her boyfriend, the two of them holding hands.

LaMarca says she often prays for the man who was operating that locomotive.

"It was the train, not him," the mother said. "I feel sorry for him, he must have went through a traumatic thing. I wonder if he needed help to get through it."

Decades ago, railroads required engineers to finish their shifts on the days when their trains hit someone.

"Back then it was different, we were always told that if it you didn't do it and you harbored it too long, you might never get back in there," explained Pierson.

Now, NJ Transit gives engineers the rest of the day off and the option of taking three more days if needed. The agency also offers counseling.

"I remind them, it's not like a car where you can swerve out of the way," said Debra Martelli, head of NJ Transit's employee assistance program. "You can't turn the train off the tracks. There's no control."

Martelli said the emotions during the counseling sessions range from guilt to anger.

"They wonder why these people chose their trains to kill themselves," she said.

Daniels said he resents the people who commit suicide on the tracks.

"He's using me as the instrument of his death," he said. "Everybody has heard of death by cop. What these people are doing is death by engineer."

Pierson echoes Daniels' frustrations.

"If you have no regard for your own life, at least have some regard for mine," he said. "You jump in front of my train, you're going to ruin my life."

Joe Malinconico covers transportation. He may be reached at jmalinconico@starledger.com or at (973) 392-4230.

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The above article from the Sunday Star-Ledger, dated 6/22/03

Robert J. Emery