Thomas was a tank engine who lived at a big station on the Island of Sodor for over twenty-four years. He was a cheeky little engine with six small wheels, a short stumpy funnel, a short stumpy boiler and a short stumpy dome. He was also painted blue with red stripes and had the number "1" on his side tanks. Friendly and outgoing as well, he also had many friends and they all tried to be really useful on a railway of harmony.

When Thomas was built at Brighton Works, however, it was during a time when England and Germany did not see eye to eye. A string of political events, sparked by the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria became the casus belli of the First World War. A year after the assassination, the North Western Railway was at its peak of completion and its owner, Sir Topham Hatt, needed an engine to run it, secondarily to put the line in action for the war effort. He chose Thomas and a Furness Railway K2 named Edward to work the line while Thomas became a station pilot at Vicarstown and worked there even after the war, where he received his own branch line following the rescue of a new engine named James in the aftermath of his serious accident.

Now he had a branch line and two coaches called Annie and Clarabel as a reward, bringing passengers to and fro from his friends on the main line, including Gordon the biggest and proudest engine of them all. Another big engine named Henry, often stopped by to tell him the latest news at Knapford Junction where he began his journeys and this time it was an unfortunate announcement directly from Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain.

The date was Sunday, September 3rd, 1939 at 11:15 a.m., with the Prime Minister announcing that the United Kingdom and France were now fighting another war: a Second World War. And for the second time, Germany was their opponent.

The engines had been listening to the announcement in their shed and grew worried if the enemy invaded their shores: one war to them was enough and a second could only mean the worse for England and her islands. Germany was now controlled by a ruthless Third Reich, whose intentions were to purge humanity of its flaws in order to create a perfect society. Half of their scientists worked unceasingly to build machines of advanced technology, like a fuel powered rocket that could fly into space, drop an atom bomb on New York City from a certain altitude and continue all the way back to the base where it took off from.

Later that afternoon once matters had been settled, Thomas met Gordon at Knapford Junction with his last train. The two often had their share of teasing and bickering, but didn't mean any harm. Today, however, made an exception.

"What do you make of all of this Gordon?" he asked.

"I can only expect tons of evacuees that will give the Fat Director a run for his money," said Gordon. "He thinks Sodor will be a perfect safe haven for England's children."

His eyes pointed to a man sitting on a bench wearing an ecru suit. He looked very formal, almost bathed in wealth, but not too wealthy as one would expect him to be. Gordon seemed to know who he was.

"The general of our Sodor Regiment could do wonders with the young men who choose to fight for our island," he said. "All they need is a good amount of training and off they go to the front lines."

"And when they come back," said Thomas. "We take them to a party like a jamboree or victory celebration, although I could be right about the last one. Now I was hoping if I could go to the mainland and pick up some evacuees from maybe, London perhaps? The least we can do after we bring them here is to ensure that we make them feel welcome and comfortable for as long as possible."

Gordon was doubtful.

"You couldn't possibly go all the way to London under your own steam! Who would look after your branch line?"

"Bertie can take my passengers while Percy can do the goods work."

"And who would fetch our coaches if Percy decides to work the line? Tender engines like me do not shunt on dirty sidings."

Thomas just glared at the big engine's forgetfulness.

"But remember what happened last time? The Fat Director had you, Henry and James shut up in the shed for several days and wasn't it he who told you that the whole 'no shunting' business had to stop?"

Gordon now remembered, ashamed by the time he had to pull a passenger train backwards after a strong wind prevented him from going on the right place in the turntable.

"If you don't like it," Thomas said, disappointingly. "I'll only go as far as Barrow. It is not like I am going away forever you know."

"That would be my business," said Gordon. "A strong, fast engine like myself should take the city kids all the way over here."

Thomas moaned with a sigh.

"Not this discussion again."

"I only want what is best for you, little Thomas. I did mean it when I said you couldn't make it all the way to London under your own steam."

"Can I still pick them up from Barrow?"

"Only if the Fat Director lets you."

"I think he will, because I'm number one and I know what is best."

"Says the tank engine who dislikes boasting."

Thomas remembered himself.

"Anyway, if the Fat Director wanted me to go all the way to the big city against the limits of my coal and water supply, he'd have to send another engine to do the yard work."

At the moment, there came a voice belonging to a shining silver engine that was passing by. The engine was nothing Thomas and Gordon had seen before, he had a set of four wheels on each end with a metallic body, a long glass window on either side and, oddly enough, a propeller in the back.

"Coming through, I have an appointment with the vorsteher of this line."

"Who in the world is that?" asked Gordon as the new engine buzzed away.

"That," said Thomas. "arrived yesterday and is an experimental type. He's not like us, he's a different, modern kind of engine that runs on oil or fuel that the people on the mainland call 'diesels'. His name is Hugo. The Fat Director sent him all the way from Germany to help us, claiming that he defected from the Nazis, but I think they might have sent him to spy on us."

"I can see that for myself, Thomas," said Gordon. "But I do not believe that he is in any way a spy. What reason could he have for coming here other than for the Fat Director to test the line with a diesel engine?"

"Espionage! Treachery! What's next?!"

Gordon puffed out of the station and Thomas didn't stop worrying until he was back in his shed at Ffarquhar Station. For a long time, the Island of Sodor seemed quiet and secluded from the rest of the world, and as it was thought to be by many of its inhabitants, it would take a miracle for this wonderful place to be put on the map.