Coombs Connor Chambers Marine

Loughborough, England
March 24th 1935

The giant came huffing and puffing out of the darkness, only the squeal of its brakes and the lights on in the cab indicating its arrival. It was two o'clock in the morning and James Baker was not a happy man. It was not enough that God had given him piles, and a cheating young wife, but now there were trains in to his station that did not appear on the CCCM manifest.

He left the dubious warmth of his office, pulling on a military surplus greatcoat and strode across the platform to where the locomotive had disgorged a half dozen serious looking men.
"Registration?" Baker snapped in an effort to appear in charge
One of the men reached into a pocket and pulled out a crumpled document.
Baker moved under the yellowly light of a flickering gas lamp and read it. It was in order, signed by the Port Controller at Ipswich three hours earlier, but not explaining the unexpected night traffic.
"What gives, gentlemen?" he asked, handing it back.
"Orders", the speaker was rough-hewn, as if from rock and with one eye higher than the other, but his most noticeable feature was the underarm holster and the weapon nestling within.
"How am I supposed to process you?" Baker turned from the scary fellow back towards the man who handed him the registration document.
"Bypass the usual niceties" the man said, "We are on urgent business"

Baker stepped back and took in the realities of the scene before him. The train was in darkness apart from the locomotive, no lights shining in any windows, and with half a dozen loaded flatcars at the rear. The six men did not seem particuarly impressed with him, or with regular rules, and if the registration document was genuine.
He nodded,
"Water?" he asked grudgingly
"Yes", another of the men now moved to decouple the locomotive, whilst the one who had possession of the document came up to Baker, "We need to offload two of the cars"
"Onto what?" Baker looked around at the darkness, "Its the middle of the flaming night!"
"They will be here"

And sure enough they were, six Hotchkiss trucks arriving a few minutes later, empty beds waiting for their cargo.
Andrew Carter had now arrived also, Baker's colleague who would have taken over at 6 am on any normal day. His house lay just beyond the station and he had been awoken by the commotion.
"What's going on?" he asked Baker, coming to stand beside him as some of the CCCM men manned the crane and began to swing solid rectangular cases out of two of the flatcars into the trucks.
"Some sort of emergency railway business" Baker sounded uncertain
"Why now? Why here?", Carter was ten years younger and had woken up full of energy. In contrast, Baker was at the end of a very long day and not looking forward to going home, wondering as usual if his wife would be there, or would be "staying at a friend's" which he had come soon enough to realise meant another man.

"Too many questions", the speaker was the company man who had the registration, "This is a Coombs Connor Chambers station, we are a Coombs Connor Chambers train, and these are Coombs Connor Chambers trucks"
"I see" Carter had left school at 14 and gone in to working for the Midland and Eastern Railway. In 1930 it had been one of a half dozen bought up by CCCM and he had no say, of course, in switching his allegiance from the polite, quaint old-fashioned company to this shipping conglomerate who now owned his contract. Like many he did not like it, but what could you do?

The man stood with them, effectively curtailing further conversation as the job was completed, a score of cases lifted and deposited in the trucks, the men then leaving the crane and returning to the trucks. Large Hotchkiss vehicles, they extended back further than any other truck on the market, and had a low retaining wall. Strapping was soon secured around the cases, and one after the other the trucks rumbled off.

The CCCM man smiled at the two station employees,
"That is our business completed. The loco is watered, and we will be on our way"
"I see" Baker had nothing else to say
The man hesitated, appearing to be on the brink of saying something, then nodded and climbed into the first, darkened carriage behind the now reattached locomotive. The other men must have done so also, or be in the cab itself.
A moment later the train hissed and belched, and rumbled off Westwards, soon being lost to sight.

"I don't like that" Carter settled himself in their mutual office, "That isn't right"
"I know", Baker put the kettle on the hob and spooned some tea leaves into a couple of battered mugs, "But they didn't leave me much choice"
"Oh, I know, I'm not saying that" Carter crossed one leg over the other, "Why do we have procedures if the railway itself won't abide by them?"
"To give the clerks something to do?"
"Very droll"
Baker lifted the kettle, which had not long boiled before the arrival of the train, and poured steaming water into the mugs, "Someone high-up will have their reasons" he said
"As ever" Carter took the steaming mug from him, "But I bet it will be shipping reasons and not railway ones"
"Sadly so"

The M in CCCM stood for Marine, Coombs Connor Chambers Marine being the largest British shipping company, and having in 1930-1931 bought up a substantial number of the smaller and medium-sized railway companies to merge into one operation. CCCMR was of course the official designation of this new company, but everyone called it CCCM or, like the company man, if they wished to stress the ownership simply Coombs Connor Chambers. Stretching from Suffolk to Liverpool with spurs into London, Birmingham and Yorkshire, CCCM had reorganised the line to be an efficient East-to-West and West-to-East service, the needs of passengers coming second to their primary interest - freight.

"Where do you think they are taking those cases?" Carter sipped at the hot black tea
"Not many places around..." Baker had been wondering the same thing. Offloading the cases here only made sense if they were being to somewhere nearby, "There's the Royal Armoured Works.." he suggested dubiously
The RAW was a government-owned manufacturer of battle wagons and half-tracks, most using designs purchased from other companies, and using components fabricated by others also.

"There is the University" Carter pondered the damp on the ceiling, "Maybe Professor Cartwright is taking a secret delivery?"
"After his recent exposure I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't try to sneak OUT in one of those cases" Baker snorted
"Slavery's still legal" Carter pointed out
"But nobody does it HERE..."
"Cartwright did..." Carter shrugged, "But I don't think those cases had slaves in them"
"Maybe something else" Baker coughed, "Machinery? Equipment?"
"I should think so" Carter banged his mug down, "Right, I'm on in less than three hours, so if you don't mind I'll kip down in the hut"
"Be my guest, hardly first class accommodation"
"But warm" Carter grinned wrily, "which is all I need"
"See you later"
"As you say"

Baker watched his colleague stride off down the platform to the 'hut', where their small generator was housed. Once sure that the door had been closed, he turned and picked up the telephone's headpiece from the wall, dialling a four-digit number with quick practised fingers,
"Speak" said a voice, deep and dark
"Something's afoot" he said
"Tell all"
And he did so



This story was from a dream, dreamt in November 2010 and was written up as accurately as possible. Certain liberties are always taken in doing so, enlarging upon half-grasped ideas of the dream to flesh them out, and providing characters with full names, where missing. I am pretty sure James Baker was the full name of the main character, even in the dream, and Coombs Connors Chambers Marine was most definitely the shipping-cum-railway company. Unfortunately, the story did not progress beyond the dream, not least because the main characters in the dream had been ignorant of what was going on, so I did not know myself!