The 90 year secret...

Run faster!... Run faster!... Run faster!...a blood-curdling scream echoes out from the depths of my mind sending a shudder through my entire body. From across the bloodied field, strained panicky voices are calling for a medic while another stronger and more terrified voice yells... "LOOK OUT!!!!...(a faint whistle registers in my brain) ...I look up in time to see a mass falling from the sky...I gotta run faster!... my feet feel like they're stuck in quicksand...my legs are pumping up and down...my arms are flailing at the air trying to cut a path for myself against an invisible resistance...gotta move!...(the whistle sound is growing louder and the dank cloying air is closing in around me)...my feet have to move faster!...come on!... faster!... faster!.........KABOOOM!!!...

Woken with a heart-stopping jolt, I smack my head sideways on something solid...my peripheral says its a window pane...dazed, confused, bleary-eyed and panting in short sharp breaths...pushing myself up in the seat I'm in...fetid air rushing into my burning lungs...am I dreaming?...is this a dream?...why are my hands so cold?...why do I have a cold sweat on my brow?...what the fuck was that?...was it a dream?...hang on a minute, am I on a train?...how the hell did I get on a goddamn train?... I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands, blurring my sight momentarily. I turn my sleep-stiffened neck and I can make out my groggy reflection in the window... the clouded moonlit darkness outside encroaching with each flickering of the carriage lights...

"What the fuck?...where am I?...How did I get here?" I shouted, my hands immediately clutching at my chest and gasping for more air...Oh God! The air was putrid! I could taste an acrid mix of coal dust, tobacco smoke and dried blood. Panic was yanking at me with those all too familiar black shadows beginning to creep in at the edges of my blurred vision, threatening to shut me down and pull me into a faint. "Help me!...I can't breathe!" I choke out, trying to stay awake - too scared to close my eyes and at the same time too scared to keep them open... scared at what the darkness of unconsciousness might hold for me (please! no more dreams...not now...not ever!). My heart thumping so hard it feels like it wants to jump clean out of the cage inside my chest.

SCREE-EE-BANG!...the whole carriage shudders again...holy hell! "What the fuck was that? I whispered hoarsely. I feel a firm hand on my arm and then a raspy voice in my left ear telling me "Try and relax matey, you're sufferin' shell-shock like the rest of us. Just listen to me, listen to my voice...slowly now, breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out..." His voice lulling my senses. My pounding heart slowing to the beat of his voice and gradually his voice is being drowned out by the staggered clackety-clack of the tracks below us...BANG!...the whole carriage shudders again...shit! My fellow traveler feels my body jump next to his and he leans close once again and says "It's Ok my friend...we're still on the 612, it was just the sound of another carriage being coupled. It's just gone 11:15pm and we're leaving Modane Station. You've missed a few stops while you've been out to it and snorin' like a baby no less..." he says with a wry grin on his dial and gives my arm a gentle nudge. "Oh...Oh, Okay..." I stammer as I run my fingers through my matted gritty hair causing it to stick out in every which direction...a fresh memory seeps in - I haven't been able to wash it for weeks, none of us have...I'm so filthy, we're all filthy. I wipe away some spit from the corner of my mouth. I massage my neck with my fingers as I turn my head around, this time scoping out the interior of the carriage. My eyes scanning faces, taking in my surroundings, trying to get my mental shit together. Another bang and a series of smaller jerky motions as the train is picking up speed now...It was like some macabre theatrical choreography that all our battered and bruised bodies heaved suddenly, swaying to and fro in perfect unison...like some unseen puppeteers were tugging invisible strings attached to us all. The locomotive was steaming up for the next stretch of track on our journey home. I remember now... Christmas is only weeks away...Today is Wednesday 12th December 1917.

I rub my face again, looking around the dimly lit space, making contact with a few sets of sunken hollow-looking eyes, most wearing blood-stained bandaged-wrapped olive-uniforms still. And note the carriage is filled to absolute capacity - there must be at least 60 of us crammed into this wooden box car - rifles leaning on seat backs partnered with make-shift crutches for those who'd been maimed by bullets or bayonets...this whole train load of soldiers are heading home having been granted 15 days leave to spend Christmas with our families by General Emile Fayolle, he said it was 'to try and better morale for the troops as we'd all gone straight from the Western Front to reinforce the front lines in the Battle of Caporetto in Italy'... What a fuckin' mess that turned out to be...and God only knew we needed a bloody break!

My eyes drop down to the timber slatted floor and see war-torn army boots leaving trails of muddy heel-prints on over-stuffed bread-bags, duffels and knapsacks that lie under seats and litter the grimy floor. The baggage rails above battle-weary heads, hold any excess items or packs being taken home to loved ones. The aisle space was also full... mostly by able-bodied soldiers standing in small groups smoking and chatting, the odd raucous laugh thrown in for good measure...there was a heavy smoke haze hanging around their heads - slowly wafting back and forth with the trains ebbing movements. Small-talk was drifting up and down the carriage... some chortling about what they were gonna do the minute they got home, others chipping their two cents in about seeing their girls or wives...or both! A few had lit candles as the electric lighting flickers and flashes were growing more problematic with every mile of track travelled. I turned back and cupped my hands to the frosty glass and looked out into the chilly night. I could see through the moonlit window as we rounded a bend that the last two carriages behind this one and a number of carriages up in front had no lights at all and only a few candles offered their glow through darkened windows.

More bumping and grinding as the train started its descent...increasing speed down towards the valley below, and with each jolt and rattle of the carriage I could hear cursing words being muttered from others around me - pain does not bode well on a cold and bumpy steam train.

And for each mile that passes, the temperature drops a few degrees too...the deeper we descend from the mountainside toward the valley and Saint-Michel-de-Maurienne, on the way to 612's final destination of Chambrey, the colder it gets. It's freezing in here...let alone outside, it may just be enough that it could snow at home tonight, I thought to myself. Not even the bodies crammed in here together like a tin of sardines could caste off the icy night air whishing and blowing in through the cracks in the timber siding.

I leaned back in my seat as more memories of war began flooding my thoughts... 1917...everyone was calling it the 'Great War'...the War to end all Wars...the bullets, the bombs...and the death...the barbaric madness of the fucking War! I'd been on the Western Front with all these lads, afraid for every second, every minute of every day. for months...growing and accepting the mentality of a care factor of zero...today would be the day that I'll meet my maker...and every day I would care just a little bit less that death could greet me at any time. Alot of these soldiers were just mere boys - maybe 16 or 17 years old...fighting for our country and none of them knowing why...no soldier, no civilian, no politician...let alone anyone else in the entire world could or would ever understand the 'powers-that-be', blowing their whistles and sending up wave after wave of poor mothers babies to the slaughter...

The engine driver had begun the downhill descent at 10 km/h (6mph) into Freney. He'd maintained control until only a short distance on, as the mountainous decline steepened, the brakes began failing...the train accelerated to a whopping uncontrollable speed of 135 km/h (84 mph)...the driver and the brakemen did their damnedest to regain control of this timber and steel missile barreling down the precipitous tracks... they grappled fiercely with the braking systems trying to slow the train down as it approached Saint-Michel-de-Maurienne...they fought with all their might...for their lives and all those onboard...

My ruminating thoughts and even harsher memories are cut off, crudely interrupted by the shuddering and lurching of the carriage, all bodies shifting and jolting sideways, smacking into walls, windows and each other... what speed are we doing?...how fast are we travelling down this mountain?...was that a bang?...Shit! what's going on?...another bang - what the fuck was that? Suddenly there's waving hands and arms going everywhere, grappling at seat backs and railings to stop themselves from falling over or onto others, shouts and swearing as feet are trodden on, rifles and crutches jarring sideways and falling like dominoes, dislodged bread-bags, duffels and knapsacks sliding along the floor - becoming cushions for falling and tripping bodies...and amongst the chaos, here we all were... oblivious to the perfect hell that was braking loose up front in the Loco Engine Car...

This 19 car train - No.612, 350 metres long in total, weighing 526 tonnes - carrying 982 enlisted men of the 46th and 47th divisions, 7 brakemen and the driver - ridiculously overfilled for its single steam locomotive engines braking-power. 612 now gathering momentous speed on the treacherous tracks of the 3.3% downhill descent between Modane and Saint Michel de Maurienne, dropping in elevation from 1040 metres to 710 metres with too many cars, loss of control was inevitable...

The train driver had argued these points relentlessly before leaving Modane Station, but to no avail... the Transport Officer in charge of dispatches at Modane had overruled all his objections to taking such a heavy load with a single engine and had ordered him back onto the train or face a military trial for subordination...all these actions essentially dooming this journey...For No.612, the ominous title to the deadliest railway disaster in the world was looming...

At approximately 11:45pm, approaching Saint-Michel-de-Maurienne... with only 1300 metres to go to reach the Station, 612 was completely out of control and upon entering a left turn in a cut in the mountain, the locomotive listed to one side, the lead baggage car directly behind the engine derailed at 102 km/h (63mph) in a section of track with a maximum speed limit of 40 km/h (25mph). The force of the twisting motion from the baggage car behind was now beyond the point of no return and derailment ensued...the driver and brakemen had lost the battle...

Inside our carriage, everything is instantly airborne. The force of the derailment is akin to being weightless - no gravity - for just a split second, time and motion seemingly stand still...then the devil body-slams you back into the present. The sounds of 612's brake-wheels grinding hideously as rails are warping from the heat of steel on steel, the screeching of the metal chassis' being torn away from the couplings...the roar of timber box cars cracking and splintering as they're smashed one by one to smithereens against each other, glass exploding inwards and outwards...steam escaping from ruptured drums with a high-pitched squeal...or maybe it's just my confused and addled mind misinterpreting the screams of the dying...the rocky gravel biting into splintered wooden siding...flying bags are shredded and torn...lifeless human ragdolls catapulted out into the darkness... then... nothing...the earth stops spinning below me and I take a breath... and now...apart from the ringing in my ears, the only sounds I can hear are the crackling of fire...and the screams of pain...

The audible clangs of buckling steel and splintering wood could be heard for miles. The train is writhing like a snake, the locomotive twisting free of the cars behind it...the baggage car directly behind the loco engine flipped and overturned, swung itself 90 degrees sideways as the couplers were shorn off on both ends. The stony ground underneath creating enough resistance to slow the overturned baggage car...but before it came to a stop, the force of the twisted steel chassis sliding along the rails, shooting hot metal sparks from its belly and combined with the burning brakes and the soldiers candles, the perfect fire-storm had begun - and the shattering tinder box cars slamming into it from behind, adding tonnes of kindling and debris... one by one, the carriages are exploding like fireworks - fragmented wooden spears being thrown in every direction, screeching and smashing onto the steel rails...many of the carriages would be burned beyond recognition...including those soles onboard that hadn't managed to jump clear of the crashing train.

As the injured driver finally bought the locomotive engine car - the only rail car still upright and on the tracks - to a halt at Saint-Michel-de-Maurienne Station, he looked back, his heart ached and his shoulders slumped...the remainder of No.612 was caught between a rock-face and a retaining wall - it was like the gates of hell had been opened - fire and brimstone, untold death and destruction playing out in front of him...thick cloying grey-black smoke was spewing forth and spiraling up through the inferno of hungry flames into the freezing winter night - the moon casting an eerie patchwork glow through the haze...his heart sinks further and further like a lead weight with each passing second...tears streamed down his dirty ashen face...he seeks help from two divisions of British Soldiers waiting at the Station and as they follow him back up the line hoping to rescue any survivors...they are completely unaware of the total devastation that lay ahead of them...not one of them realized they were about to enter ground-zero of the deadliest derailment in history...not just French history, but the history of the entire World...

Crackling of fire...drips of fluid - (maybe water...or god-forbid... blood) - sizzle on the railway tracks below me...I can no longer hear the intense hissing of steam being released from the brake cylinders. A few dense 'pops', muffled explosions and the odd ricochet from further up in the debris trail suggest smuggled ammo and possibly a grenade or two taken as war-time souvenirs - are being ignited as the flames reach them. I can hear guttural moans of the injured or dying above me...or maybe it's to my right...It's hard to tell which way is up at the moment... My head is throbbing so badly, and moving too quickly creates a dizzying vertigo effect coupled with some slight nausea...my legs feel heavy, sore and by the feel of it, probably pinned in place by something...I have to move, It's only a matter of time till the fire consumes everything in it's path. Thick black smoke is now wafting in through the rubble of what's left of the carriage... my right shoulder is leaning on the battered window-sill timber - there's no glass left, shattered and gone, a few scrapes on my wrist and knuckles of my right hand - I remember bracing my head with my arms and hunkering down when shit went sideways... literally! I lean my head forward over my trembling knees, squeezing my stinging eyes shut and let out a phlegmy cough...I open my watery eyes and see by the orange glow cast by the towering flames outside, the weight on my legs is a partial brake cylinder - pushing with both my hands, I mutter to myself...push it off! I'll have another shot of adrenalin please ma'am! I muster all my energy and heave...the crumpling tin cylinder shifts under broken slats...I tug my legs free - not broken thank god!...but there's a number of gashes along my legs and torso from the wreckage. I hear groaning coming from survivors partially buried under shredded baggage personal belongings and enough timber to sink a battle-ship...

As I drag myself out from under the rubble, my panting breath puffs frosted squalling mist out in front of my face...I pull myself up to sit on the ground and as my eyes adjust to the scorching radiating heat, and my ears ringing is being overcome by the roar from the raging hell-fire not 50 metres in front of me, through the smoke all I see is bodies...some burning...some just lifeless - the grim reaper has visited already...shadowy outlines of others hobbling to help others...gotta breathe!...sucking back the big ones...the frosty air filling my lungs and extinguishing the heat from within...my throat feels scorched...and with a gut-sinking realization, the only other feeling I have looking around, is pure unadulterated despair...

My stinging blood-shot eyes are now as wide as saucers, drinking in the destruction...everywhere...I don't want to believe the overwhelming horror my eyes are absorbing...I don't want to...but I can't look away...images now searing themselves into my retina's like white-hot fire pokers...I want to block out the carnage...and of this tumultuous ride through hell and back...I want to become deaf to the cries forming all around me...I promise myself that later, much later at home, I'll have time, time to reflect and to try and make sense of the losses suffered here tonight...but right now my mind wants to shut down...I have to fight hard to keep the black from edging into my vision again...for my own sake - I know that if I faint out here I'll die...I don't want to die!...It's not my time!...I survived war for gods sake!...I take another deep breath...and then I wave my arms back and forth over my head and call out to the black silhouettes of soldiers running towards me "Over here...please...we need help..."

I'm going home...

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(AUTHORS DISCLAIMER & NOTES: This is a work of fiction straight from the authors imagination, perceptions, impressions and a fair chunk of artistic integrity for good measure. I wrote this story loosely based around a real-life tragic event that occurred 105 years ago and was kept as a military secret for 90 years. I have only tried to create a 'what would it have been like' scenario or narrative of how it could have been. No offence or harm is intended and any similarities to any persons alive or dead is purely coincidental.)

The following points are for those of you who are interested in the true facts regarding the aftermath of the Train Derailment 105 years ago...Credit where credit is due...to Wikipedia and to mx-Schroeder.medium.com...both these sites have a wealth of information and the latter actually has photos taken in the days following the accident site.