The rest of winter passed uneventfully. Come spring, work started to increase once more. And nowhere was this more true than on the Mid Sodor: now that the snow was starting to melt, tourists would sail to the Isle of Man to travel on the Boat Trains and gaze at the Mountain Road. Lead traffic also started to build up again, after winter stalled the war, the French had come up with a massive counteroffensive to catch the Germans off-guard. When he wasn't pulling the Parliamentary, Duke helped Falcon and Albert with the Mine Trains, as did Atlas and Alfred. It was a busy time for everyone.

Nowhere was this more apparent when one evening, Falcon arrived at Arlesburgh West Shed, very exhausted.

"Phew! All these extra mine trains really wear an engine down!" he wheezed.

"I know the feeling," said Duke. "I've had to handle my share too: coaches weren't happy when I had to couple lead trucks to my train this afternoon, but it couldn't be helped."

"If only there was an easier way to do all this," said Falcon.

Carys begun to reply, but her voice was drowned out by the sound of two engines.

"If you want to do your work easier," said Atlas, "you should try poling."

"Poling? What on Earth is that?" asked Duke.

"Something we used to do in the states," replied Alfred. "Basically, it's shunting, but with a wooden pole instead of an engine. I believe you British call it propping."

"You're insane!" Carys shouted. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?!"

"Nonsense!" scoffed Atlas. "It's only dangerous if you don't know what you're doing."

"And I suppose you two do?" asked Duke.

"We used to do it before coming here," confirmed Alfred. "Worth a shot, I think."

Before anyone said anything else, the sound of propellers filled the air.

"What the..?" The engines were surprised. A large Zeppelin rolled overhead.

"The Germans are attacking!" screamed Duke.

The engines watched in horror, preparing to embrace the bombs that it would drop. Instead, the Zeppelin just floated away without doing anything. The engines sighed with relief.

"Just a scout!" muttered Falcon. "And off to their masters they go!"

"We should consider ourselves lucky, Falcon," said Duke. "If it wasn't, we probably wouldn't be here right now."

"I heard the south has been hammered by Zeppelins since January," put in Atlas. "Maybe they're planning to do a raid here?"

"I can't deny the possibility," admitted Carys. "However, fuel limits the range of those things. I pray to God we're out of range."

"Me too Carys," said Duke. "Me too."

"You worry too much, Nun!" scoffed Falcon.

"Don't you dare insult my faith!" snapped Carys.

"And what kind of God lets a war go on?" replied Falcon. "Honestly, if God was real…"

"That's enough, Falcon," said Duke. The George England decided to speak in a way that didn't take sides. "Perhaps this is one of God's tests? It's quite useless to find sense to the plans of divinity, as my sister Princess learned long ago."

"Yes: the Almighty works in mysterious ways," said Carys.

Falcon rolled his eyes, and steamed away.

"Where you a-going, Falcon?" asked Duke. "There be no trains that need to be pulled out right now."

"Away from this religious discussion," scoffed Falcon. And he was gone

"On other subjects, I'm sure this war will cost the king his crown." said Atlas.

Duke burst into laughter.

"My dear boy, what makes you think our king will lose his crown?"

"Not only him, but all monarchs in Europe," said Alfred. "I mean, look at what was done in Austria to Archduke Franz Ferdinand."

"I don't see your point. The Austrians had a right to be furious after the heir to their empire was murdered in cold blood. Along with his wife, for crying out loud!" snorted Atlas.

"Yes, but our American values would have been of use had they actually decided to think about what to do next," said Alfred.

"Listen here, Yankee-Doodle," growled Duke. "You Americans aren't obligated to help us. This conflict belongs to the old world."

"Who are you calling Yankee? I'm from Virginia!" snapped Alfred. "There's a difference, you know."

"Yankee, Virginia, I don't see much difference," scoffed Duke. "You're all Americans to me."

"And what's wrong with being American?" asked Atlas.

"That you're traitors!" laughed a truck.

"SHUT UP!" snapped Atlas.

"He isn't wrong," muttered another. "How many times have your people decided to separate and create a new nation just because?"

"Enough to teach you manners!" Alfred growled.

"Also, didn't you come from Texas, Atlas?" asked a brake van named Cora.

"What about that?"

"Oh, I don't know, just thinking you miss being out in the hot desert," Cora remarked.

"I worked on an industrial railroad, not in a desert," said Atlas.

"Alright, enough arguing!" shouted Duke. "It's late, we should all get some sleep: after all, we got a very busy day tomorrow."

They went to sleep, although the trucks spent half the night singing "Dixie" much to Alfred's chagrin.

The next morning, the two American engines began talking more about poling.

"So, you interested?" asked Atlas.

"Interested in what? Your poling?" asked Duke.

"Well, you say so yourself: you don't know until you try," Alfred pointed out. Duke contemplated this, unaware a young worker overheard them.

At about the same time, Falcon puffed into the yard, looking sleepy.

"Why are you so tired?" asked Duke.

"I went to Ffarquhar Road for a snooze, but the stationmaster there sent me up to the mine to do some shunting: apparently, a last-minute order was called in. I swear to…WHOA!"

He was left startled as a large wooden bat nearly hit him!

"What the blazes do you think you're doing!" Duke shouted to the worker.

"Poling," said the worker. "Atlas and Alfred said I wouldn't know until I tried."

"That's not poling, that's…"

"I have work to do," interrupted the worker. "Later!"

And he walked off, still swinging the bat.

"Idiot," snorted Atlas.

"Tell me about it," agreed Duke.

Later, John was shunting some coaches for a troop train, when he heard screaming.

"What the..?"

It belonged to a truck, who now had a black eye. The sight of a truck rolling down the yard with a black eye could have been very funny, but John didn't notice.

"What happened to you?" he asked.

"A guy whacked me with a bat!" the truck shouted.

"What?!"

"OWCHIE!" another voice shouted. It was another truck, this one had been knocked onto her side. "Damn moron!" she shouted.

"Dear, oh dear! What on Earth is going on?!"

"A misunderstanding of poling," said Alfred. "A worker overheard us discussing it."

"The fuck is that?" asked a truck.

"Like shunting, but with a wooden pole instead of an engine," said Alfred. "Only it's not supposed to be whacked around."

"My teeth!" complained a third truck.

John spotted the worker swinging the bat.

"Alright, that's enough swinging!" he shouted, steaming towards him.

"Morning John," said the worker, stopping to swing the bat. "Everything's been going great since I started this poling thing."

"For you, you fucking idiot!" screamed a furious John. "But not for everyone else!"

"Oh lighten up, Baggy," said the worker, swinging the bat once more, this time coming close to John's face. "I'm giving it a try and I'm enjoy…"

He was quickly interrupted: John had managed to bite onto the other end of the bat.

"Hey, let go!" the man shouted, trying to pull it out. John held on tight, growling as his driver reversed. Eventually, the bat ended up breaking in half. "You stupid engine!" scolded the worker. "Now I won't be able to do my work at all!"

John said nothing: he continued chewing on the end he pulled off.

"Ok, I think you've done enough chewing," said his driver, walking in front and attempting to grab the bat. John growled. "I didn't know engines could be dogs," chuckled the driver.

Eventually, the owner of the railway came to inspect what the hell was going on. By this time, the worker had found a thin wooden board and begun swinging that around. He ended up hitting Atlas with it. The owner was not pleased by this.

"Knock that off, mister!" he shouted, walking towards him. "Swinging around like that will…" He was whacked by the board before he could finish.

Everyone froze, even the worker.

"You're in for it now," said Atlas.

By the time the owner regained his senses, he stood up, and grabbed the worker by the neck of his shirt.

"You..insolent bastard…"

"B-Boss," said the worker, "you should really..."

"DON'T GIVE ME ATTITUDE!" shouted the Owner. "You know full well you were being unsafe." He threw the employee onto the ground. "Get out of my sight!"

"Does that mean I'm fired?"

"I SAID GET OUT!"

The worker ran off, frightened.

"Now, who gave him this idea?"

"Our fault sir," said Atlas and Alfred, and they explained everything.

"Listen here, you two. That was a lousy idea."

"It could've worked if it hadn't been taken so literally," Atlas pointed out.

"It doesn't mean it's not dangerous. You two will be on the Horse and Cart for a month. Understood?"

"Yes sir," said the engines.

"Carys!"

"Yes sir?"

"You shall take over mine trains from these two."

"Uh, what about me?" asked Falcon.

"You will go to sleep until around 2 pm. I can't have engines falling asleep on the job."

"Thank you sir," said Falcon.

"That does leave an engine down on the boat trains," Duke pointed out. "John won't be able to handle runs in both directions all alone."

"You're right," said the owner. "Therefore, either you or Carys can take over. Now, if you excuse me, I'll make an appointment with my doctor." And with that, the owner walked away.

Falcon was quick to find sitting around until 2 PM boring: he wasn't tired all the time and eventually asked the Manager to put him on something.

"Only train I have is the Parliamentary," said the Manager. "And I know you don't want to pull that. Therefore, I'm putting you on maintenance work: it's slow, yes, but also quiet."

At the same time, Carys was collecting coaches for the morning Boat Train.

"I'm surprised these hadn't been canceled," she said to her driver. "I mean, the Picnic was canceled because of the war, why not this train?"

"Just because war is going on doesn't mean tourists are stopping," the driver answered.

"Another of God's many tests," she sighed.

"What could God be testing this time?" the fireman asked.

"Best not to think about it," the driver warned him. "You know how she is."

Ignoring them, Carys set off towards the harbour. At Ulfstead Road, she met up with Falcon, who was in the loop with the maintenance train.

"What're you doing here?" she asked.

"Maintenance, stupid," snarked Falcon. "Or have you gotten so blind you now need to ask?"

"Well, certainly unusual," she remarked.

"What else was I supposed to do?! Sitting around until 2 is boring!" snapped Falcon. "This was the only job available that wasn't the Parliamentary."

"I really thought you'd have learned your lesson," said Carys.

"Just because I learned to be careful with trucks doesn't mean I now like waiting!" snapped Falcon.

"Well excuse me for trying to make conversation," snorted Carys. "You and I hardly talk now that you aren't on Boat Trains, I was just hoping to catch up."

"You want to play catch up, do it with your God! I heard he's looking for new companions."

"You're mixing up God with Zeus," Carys pointed out.

"We'll play it with somebody, I'm busy!"

Her guard blew his whistle at that moment, so Carys departed. She complained about Falcon for the rest of the journey.

"Why can't Falcon just respect my appreciation for Christianity?" she asked her driver. "Even if he doesn't believe in God, he should at least respect my loyalty to Him!"

"You can't make him respect what he doesn't want to respect," her driver pointed out. "You know what he's like Carys."

Carys rolled her eyes at this. She arrived at Arlesdale in good time, where the stationmaster was waiting.

"Tim's broken down near Marthwaite and there's a lead train at Cas-y-Hawin he was supposed to take down. Could you take it with your Boat Train please?"

"Of course," Carys promised. She was uncoupled…

"Whoa, girl!" shouted the stationmaster. "I asked you to take the lead with you, I didn't say you had to go to the mines yourself!"

"Then how am I supposed to collect the lead?" asked Carys. Her question was answered by a whistle from behind her. The Mine Engine pulled up alongside.

"Have you forgotten I come here to shunt?" he asked. "I brought this train down for you. That said, I'm not sure it's a good idea to take it with a passenger train."

"If you have a problem with it, tell me," said the stationmaster. "I was the one who asked her to do so."

"And his word is final," Carys pointed out. "Besides, taking a mixed-train will save time."

"Try telling that to the early days when mixed-trains led to passengers complaining about shunting delays," said the Mine Engine. "If you insist, alright, I won't stop you. But I still think taking goods and passengers isn't a good idea."

"God will make sure they behave themselves," said Carys. The Mine Engine rolled his eyes and left the trucks to fill up on coal and water. Afterwards, Carys coupled the trucks in front of the coaches. It seemed God was working some miracles that day: the passengers had no issue with the trucks. Unfortunately, she had forgotten that trucks and coaches don't get along. The saloons, especially, hated the dirty trucks.

"Ew! Who invited you dirty lot?!" shrieked the front saloon.

"At least we don't stand around looking pretty!" snapped the truck in front of her. "We do real work, not carry sloppy passengers who do nothing but talk and talk!"

"Carrying passengers IS real work!" the saloon snapped. "It's what we were built for!"

"Is that it, or total laziness?" asked the truck.

"I'll show you lazy, you dirty little…"

"ENOUGH!" shouted Carys. "Honestly, you're upsetting the Lord with your arguing!"

"Never mind your Lord!" snapped a truck.

"Jesus Christ! Shut up! Our passengers won't tolerate your arguing and the Lord will strike you if you keep it up!"

"No he won't: it's a clear day. There are no storms."

Carys banged the train hard.

"Ouch! Be careful!" screamed the coaches.

"Taunt God again and I'll give you worse!" Carys warned. The coaches hadn't said anything insulting God, and Carys knew, but was too furious to apologise to them. The guard blew his whistle and Carys departed.

It was not a pleasant journey: waiting for other trains wasn't an issue, but the trucks and coaches didn't stop arguing. She tried hard to make them stop. She tried singing songs, she tried bumping, but no matter what she did, they just kept arguing.

Once she arrived at the harbour, Carys was quick to depart, leaving the coaches and trucks to argue.

"She's definitely in a bad mood," observed the driver. "All this rough riding is proof of that. We better take her back to the sheds quickly."

Carys didn't improve her mood as she took her rest.

"Everything alright, Carys?" Albert asked, pulling alongside.

"Why can't trucks and coaches just get along?" she asked him.

"It's a good question," Albert replied. "And honestly, I wish I knew the answer. What brought this up?"

"Had to take lead trucks with my Boat Train," answered Carys. "Couldn't be helped: Tim had broken down and I was the closest engine available to take down his next train, Arlesdale stationmaster asked me to take it with the Boat Train."

"And I'm guessing they began to insult each other the second the train departed?"

"Before actually," said Carys.

"I'm also guessing you tried anything you could think up to shut them up?"

"Yes: singing failed, and so did bumping. Nothing!"

"Perhaps you should talk to Duke: he'll know more about handling mixed trains than I ever could," said Albert.

"Thank you, Albert."

"You're most welcome, dear."