JUNCTION 'X'
BY
CECIL McGIVERN

THE SCRIPT OF AN OUTSTANDING
B.B.C. FEATURE BROADCAST

"Scene Two"


  (Their footsteps echo as they climb wooden steps. The station noises are left behind. The Narrator is very pleasant - The Listener is still on his guard. He has always grumbled at railways and is not to be won over easily!)

NARRATOR : A rather drab staircase, isn't it?
THE LISTENER [viciously] : Drab and dirty and ugly - like most British stations.
NARRATOR : Yes, they've been up a long time. Built in a gloomy period, architecturally speaking. And the steam age isn't an easy one to keep clean. Did you notice the name on the door at the bottom, by the way?
THE LISTENER : No - can't say I did.
NARRATOR : Few people do. It reads "Offices of the Divisional Superintendent."

  (They reach the top of the staircase and their steps stop.)

Well, here we are. That surprises you, doesn't it? Very long corridor - office after office opening off it. Built against the outside wall of the station, hanging under the roof. Most big stations have them - but why should people look up in a station!
THE LISTENER : The roof's too dam' dirty to see anything even if you did.
NARRATOR [pleasantly] : Quite, quite. All right, let's walk - but not too quickly. I've one or two things to tell you before we reach the Superintendent's office, or you won't understand what's going on. You'll only understand it vaguely in any case.

  (The steps move on - echoing.)

......telephones and maps - 6KB
" ......telephones and maps"

You see, the railway system on which you travel is a little too big to be run easily from one central office. So it's carved up into divisions. Junction X is a divisional headquarters. And every morning, at 10 o'clock sharp, a phone rings in the Divisional Superintendent's office. And he picks up the phone. At that moment all the other divisional superintendents pick up their phones. And they hold a conference with their Chief at Headquarters near London. Every morning they do that - after coming in at 8.30 and studying very carefully papers which have been prepared for them during the night. Every morning - Sundays as well - every morning since September 3rd, 1939.
THE LISTENER : And as the result, every morning my train's late.
NARRATOR : As one of the results, every morning your train comes in. And that, believe me, is something. With luck, we'll hear a bit of the conference. Come in - quietly.

  (The door is open and shut gently.)

BOYLE [he is in London, so his voice comes to us thin and crackling through the phone] : Well, do your best, Mr. Foster, and - keep them moving. Now, Mr Fairbank?
DIVISIONAL SUPERINTENDENT [He is with us in the room] : Yes, Mr. Boyle.
BOYLE : What's your position upline?
DIV. SUP. : Still bad, sir. 12,642 upline waggons waiting to be cleared.
BOYLE : Worse than yesterday . . H'm . . What's your line position?
DIV. SUP. : Heavy. Fifty upline trains alive.
BOYLE : Moving freely?
DIV. SUP. : Rather slow at Stanley Junction. The position, in fact, is rather desperate all round. All the yards are heavy. We're waiting for engines at five depots. There's bound to be some late starts - likely to lead to more bunching on certain lines. I'm short of 15 drivers and firemen and 12 guards from one depot alone - reported sick. The labour problem's acute, sir.
NARRATOR [close, quietly] : Acute's the word. One hundred thousand railway men in the Forces, Mr. Listener.
BOYLE : What about cutting out some of those upline trains?
DIV. SUP. [smiling ruefully] : Which do you suggest, sir?
BOYLE : The 3.30.
DIV. SUP. : Impossible, sir. It's carrying locomotive coal. If we start cutting those, we'll have depots closing down.
BOYLE : Well, we've got to do something, Fairbank. What about the 4.40 - the 6.15 - and the 6.35?
DIV. SUP. : I'll try. But if I cancel many more, I'll need a load stop.
NARRATOR [quietly] : D'ye see his problem? Loaded waggons pouring out of docks and factories and goods yards onto lines already stiff with trains. If he could get a stop put on firms loading waggons---
DIV. SUP. : Is there any hope of that, sir? A three days' stop and I could get that 12,000 down by half - and we'd be easy.
BOYLE : We might. But we've got to try everything else first. Any passenger trains we can cut?
DIV. SUP. : And raise a howl, sir?
BOYLE [losing his temper somewhat] : Listen, Fairbank, we've got to get those waggons moving. And if a few more passengers are left standing about - well, we just can't help it, that's all.
NARRATOR [rather maliciously] : That's you, Mr. Listener, see?
DIV. SUP. : We'll do everything we can, sir. I'm hoping the position will be better tomorrow.
BOYLE : All right, Mr. Fairbank. In any case, you've got to clear your upline before tomorrow morning. All set for that convoy?
DIV. SUP. : Yes, sir. Everything covered there. 500 waggons wanted altogether. We've got 300 at Northbay already - 200 working their way in.
BOYLE : Troop trains?
DIV. SUP. : 4,000 men - 10 trains altogether. Six are already there, the other four working their way in.
2ND DIV. SUP. [also on the other end of the line] : May I butt in, Mr. Boyle? You'll be sure to get those troop trains through on time, Mr. Fairbank? If you hand them over to us late, we'll never get them through Whitegate Junction.
DIV. SUP. : I realise that, Mr. Turnbull. The first one's due through here at 6 a.m. They've got absolute priority, of course. We'll see you get them on time.
BOYLE : Anybody else anything to say? . . . All right. Thank you very much, gentlemen. To-morrow morning at ten sharp. And - keep them moving.

  (The receiver is replaced.)

DIV. SUP. : Phew!
NARRATOR : Things bad, sir?
DIV. SUP. [laughing] : Bad! They couldn't be much worse. The trouble's not so much that they're bad, but that they're always bad nowadays. . . . I get nightmares - wagons creep out of the corners of my bedroom and begin to run over my bed, over my face. I push them off. They come back - more and more of them. I run out - along the lines - the waggons after me. "All right," I shoult. "All right! I'll find space for you! Leave me alone! I'll find room!" But what's this? Look! Waggons popping out of holes in the ground, filling the space. And I've got to run on and on - waggons to the left of me - waggons to the right of me - by heavens, gentlemen, it's not funny.
NARRATOR : No, sir. What's the cause of it all?
DIV. SUP. : The cause! This war. And the type of war it is. It's a war of materials - and nobody realises that better than railwaymen. The stuff - it's amazing - staggering. Pouring out of factories, out of America and Canada - mountains of it - and we've got to handle it. . . . And who could have foreseen that these little islands were to become the advanced striking base for us, for Americans, for Canadians, for Poles, Free French, Czechs and all the rest of them? And they and their gear have got to be carted round on our railways. And labour - there's another headache. . . . Well, gentlemen, you must excuse me, I've the small matter of 12,000 waggons to look into---

  (The door is suddenly opened.)

Yes, Ransome?
RANSOME : Mr. Boyle coming through, sir - urgent.
DIV. SUP. : Thank you, Ransome. (The door is shut as Ransome goes out.) And that, if I know anything at all, means trouble. The only point is - big trouble or small trouble?

  (His phone bell rings : he picks up the receiver.)

Fairbank here, Mr. Boyle.
BOYLE [we hear his thin phone voice again] : Sorry, old chap. Trouble, I'm afraid. We've just had a message from the Diversion Room. Your part of that convoy's switched from Northbay to Southbay.
DIV. SUP. : Oh - Heavens, sir - WHAT!! Southbay! Fifty miles nearer! My God, sir, that doesn't mean---
BOYLE : It does, Fairbank. It means everything's to be brought forward eight hours.
DIV. SUP. : But that is impossible, sir. Can't they let us at least stick to the original times. It's going to be bad enough as it is---
BOYLE : I asked them that. Answer's a very definite no. They want men and stores out immediately. Probably been spotted by an odd aircraft and they're taking no risks. Fortunately it's still in your division.
DIV. SUP. : Fortunately for you, sir. Not for me.
BOYLE : So that means the first troop train's due through your place at ten to-night, not six to-morrow morning. Get the trains out at twenty-minute intervals - priority for the first three or four, then use your discretion after that.
DIV. SUP. : Will you warn Turnbull, sir?
BOYLE : I will. Well - it's all yours. Get through to me if you get in a bad jam. I said a bad jam, Mr. Fairbank.
DIV. SUP. [laughing a little] : I heard you, sir.

(He replaces his phone - thinks a moment - then picks it up again.)

Ransome, ask the Chief Controller to come in at once.

(There is a surge of quiet, shimmering music which is a soft, descriptive background to the Narrator's next speech.)

NARRATOR [quietly, close.] : Have you ever as a small boy, Mr. Listener, dropped a pebble in a pond and watched the ripples? Of course you have. Now take a large pond, and get four small boys each to drop a pebble into the four quarters of it at the same time. The ripples spread - and get in an awaful tangle. Now do that again - but this time, just as the poor little ripples are about to get in a dreadful mix-up, drop a bigger pebble right in the middle and start some more and bigger ripples. Well, this Division's the big pond - and there are a lot more than four pebbles dropped in already. And this convoy diversion's the big pebble in the middle. But - and here's the point, Mr. Listener - you've got to stop all those ripples from biffing into one another. . . . Nice little problem, isn't it?

 (As the music ends, a door is opened and shut.)

GORDON : You want me, Mr. Fairbank?
DIV. SUP. : I do, Gordon. Feeling strong?
GORDON [cautiously] : Not particularly, sir.
DIV. SUP. : That's a pity. Because that convoy's been diverted. It's coming in at Southbay, not Northbay. And what's more, Gordon, we've got to bring everything forward eight hours. The first train's due through here at ten to-night, not what seems now the comfortable hour of 6 a.m. to-morrow morning. Now how do you feel?
GORDON : Lovely, sir! No leg pull?
DIV. SUP. : Not even a tickle. Drop all work on those waggons - I'll take that over - and get down to this chaos. Keep me in touch. And, Gordon - that first train comes through here at 10 sharp.

 (The music begins again - a soft urgent background.)

NARRATOR [quicker] : The first act's over. . . . The pebbles are thrown into the pond. Use any metaphor you like - but one fact stands right out, Mr. Listener. A lot of people have got to do a lot of work in a very little time. Come on - two offices along. . . .

 (The music swells quickly - urgent - and quickly comes to a full close. The speeches are quicker and more urgent now.)