The Knapford cleanup operation lasted several months, and was finally completed in July of 1916. During this time, engineers were working on the new station complex, and in early August, the reconstruction effort would begin. ROD locomotives and other military equipment were a common sight during this period, as the government began making good use of the Cronk Viaduct to defend the north-western edge of old Blighty. Nevertheless, they rarely interfered with our operations. The station was operable by early October, but there was still a lot of work to be done.

On the 20th of October 1916, Glynn, Edward and Henry were summoned to the construction site. Sir William was there, along with my great-grandfather, Sir James "Topham" Hatt, who stood near something covered in a sheet. A crowd of passengers and passersby were gathered outside. "Ladies, gentlemen and engines," Sir James began. "I'm sure none of you need reminding of the tragic event that occurred earlier this year. A fleet of German bombers flew overhead, decimating the station. As you can see, we have brought the station back into an operational state, but there is still some work to do before the official grand opening."

"So far," Sir William continued. "67 lives have been confirmed as lost, with 46 more people admitted to Knapford Hospital with serious injuries."

Henry, unsurprisingly, grew distant at this news.

"In addition," William continued. "The Tidmouth, Knapford and Elsbridge Railway lost Theodore Watkins, their number one C53 class steam tram, hailing from the Great Eastern Railway."

"To pay tribute to those lives lost during the air raid," Topham finished. "We give you the Lion of Sodor."

Jonathan Simmons yanked on the sheet, revealing the bronze statue of a noble lion sitting attentively on its haunches. Plaques facing to and away from the station listed the names of those lost in the raid. Spectators murmured in respectful admiration. Sir William blew his whistle loud and long. Meanwhile, Henry slinked sadly out of the station.

After the ceremony, Sir William found Henry in a tent that had been set up over several sidings as a temporary engine shed. "Are you okay, Henry?" he asked.

"Sixty-seven," Henry replied. "I could have… it… I can't…"

"Henry, nearly two hundred passengers were crammed into your coaches when you departed," William consoled. "They were jam-packed; some even sustained minor injuries from being shoved around during the ride. You couldn't have fit any more in, even if you did have more time."

"It just seems so unfair," Henry sobbed. "Those two hundred got it off easy, but the other 113 suffered."

"War, as with life, is unfair, Henry. The families of those 113 passengers understand that we did everything we could realistically do for them."

Henry's eyebrows narrowed. "I'd like to show those Germans what for!"

"Remember what we talked about, Gilmore. Vengeance never solves anything because…"

"... it only leads to vengeance."

"Exactly."

"But I wish I could do something, Will. I wish I could have done something."

"There was nothing we could do, Gilmore," said Will bluntly. "One of the hardest truths about war is that people die. You can't save everyone."

"But who decides who gets saved and who dies in a flaming pancake that used to be a railway station?"

"That is one question to which we may never know the answer, Henry. All we can do is try not to think about it and get on with our work. Sir Hatt has a train that needs picking up from Brendam docks."

"Brendam?" asked Henry curiously.

"Yes, it's a new establishment funded by the ROD, down the W&S line."

"Right, I'll go talk to him about it."

Henry puffed down towards Wellsworth and turned onto the Suddery line. He was still upset by the heartbreaking toll that had been announced that morning, but was trying his best not to think about it.

"Seen any ghosts around, Henry?" came a voice. It was Colin. The W&S's saddle tank was shunting some trucks into a siding near Suddery. Henry said nothing and tried to ignore him.

"Those poor families," taunted Lily further down the line. "I wonder what they'll think of you now, Henry?"

"Drop it," seethed Henry through clenched jaws.

Finally, our Number 3 arrived at Brendam Docks. Construction equipment and scaffolding was everywhere. Builders and dock workers milled about. Adam was sitting on an unfinished track over the sea. A sign behind him read: "DANGER! ENGINES MUST NOT PASS THIS BOARD."

"Well, well, if it isn't the Tidmouther who murdered 67 people," Adam said with a mischievous smirk.

"You know that's not what happened," Henry growled. "Where's my train?"

"113 people, Henry," the 415 went on. "That must be quite the burden."

"You bet your smokebox it's a burden," Henry shouted. "Why don't you try having your boiler rearranged by a German bomb as it crashes through your shed roof?"

"No, thank you," Adam jeered, maintaining his taunting smile. "I like my boiler the way it is."

"That's it!" snapped Henry, and he lurched forward so fast his driver fell off the footplate. With a metallic thud, Henry smashed into Adam's buffers.

"Ow!" exclaimed Adam, but Henry wasn't finished yet. The mighty experimental shoved the W&S's No. 3, powerless in comparison, along the tracks and onto the other side of the danger sign, not expecting anything to happen.

"What are you doing, Henry?!" Adam yelled.

"Come on," Henry shouted back. "You're scared of a stupid sign? If your buffers are half as big as your mouth…"

Then, they heard it: a deep groaning sound. A visually terrified Adam pumped his pistons, but it was too late.

All Henry could do was watch as the weak foundation gave way under the Class 415's weight, and Adam disappeared from view with a mighty splash. Suddenly, Henry snapped to his senses. "Adam!" he shouted.

Workmen came rushing to the scene. "Grab a chain!" one shouted.

"Can anyone swim?" asked a builder.

"I can!" a dock worker replied.

"Get down there and get this onto Adam's coupling!"

"Right you are!" The dock worker took the chain from the builder and cautiously jumped off the pier. A shunter fastened the other end to Henry's front coupling. Moments later, the chain grew taut then slack again twice.

"That's the signal," shouted the builder. "Pull him up!"

Together with men pulling on the chain, our Number three heaved with all his might to pull his Sudderian counterpart back onto solid ground. His wheels slid; his fireman worked double-time. At last, the burgundy tank engine was hoisted back onto the rails.

"Adam!" Henry gasped in relief. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know…"

"What do you think "Danger" means, you Tidmouth goop?!" Adam snapped, then stopped to catch his breath. His face softened. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "I shouldn't have teased you about the air raid, and I shouldn't have told my colleagues to egg you on."

"I'm sorry too," the big green engine replied. "I should have known better than to push you past a danger sign."

"Yes, you most certainly should have," came the voice of a constable.

"Oh no," exclaimed Henry. "How much did you hear, Constable?"

"Enough from you, and from witnesses around here, to get the picture," the policeman replied.

"Henry Gilmore, you are under arrest for assault resulting in reckless endangerment of a non-faceless locomotive, in accordance with section 103 of the Sentient Railways Act 1891." Henry knew that voice too well. Sir William buffered up behind him. "You are hereby shunted for fifteen days. During this period, you may only leave your siding in the event of an emergency, such as a fire or air raid, and must return to it as soon as the 'all-clear' is given in the event of such a scenario."

"I understand, Will," said Henry glumly. "What I did was wrong. Do what you have to."

"As for you, Harrington," Will continued, addressing Adam. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself. This war is a trying time for all of us, and I expected better from you than to tease a fellow locomotive over such a matter as this."

"Yes, Colonel," Adam replied. "Sorry, Henry."

Henry said nothing, but flashed a small, understanding smile at the 415 as Sir William pulled him back out of the docks.