"Grantville Gazette.Volume XVI" - читать интересную книгу автора (Flint Eric)

Doc
Gorg Huff and Paula Goodlett

"Get out of the goddamned way, Little Ferdie!"

Ferdinand Bader got out of Sergeant Sandler's way as quickly as he could. Not that he was really in the way, but it was typical of Sandler to shout, just as it was typical of Captain Lehrer to look down his rather pointed nose at "Little Ferdie."

"Look at the mouse jump!"

Ferdinand carefully didn't look in Corporal Melman's direction. Melman was just plain mean and looked for excuses to make Ferdinand miserable. The mouse comment was, again, typical. Ferdinand had been hearing comments much like it for most of his life. His voice was high and squeaky, commanding neither obedience nor respect. It never had. Further, by inclination, Ferdinand avoided conflict.

He wouldn't even have been in the Army, if it hadn't been for getting drunk that night in Jena, after Papa cut off his funds for the university. The life of a student had suited him just fine. Thankfully, for once the Army had gotten it right and sent Ferdinand to medic school, where he'd finally found his calling.

Not that the calling was easy work. Especially with a pissed off captain, sergeant and corporal. Which wasn't at all fair. Ferdinand hadn't known that medics were a separate corps, not part of the Army, Navy, Air Force or Marines.

"No!" Ferdinand shouted. For the first time in his life, he was obeyed. "Don't try to move him. He may have internal injuries!" The shocking bit was that his voice, as squeaky as ever, had suddenly been obeyed. Or maybe it was that he had given the command in the first place, or that he was running into the middle of a battle. Ferdinand was dealing with a number of shocking occurrences at the moment. Mostly by ignoring them. He had a patient and that was all that he could allow to matter.

He knelt in the mud outside of Luebeck in the spring of 1634, after a sortie against the disintegrating Danish and French armies. With a pair of medical scissors, he cut away the heavy woolen cloth that was worn as much for its ability to slow a musket ball or pike thrust as for its warmth. That it didn't stop musket balls, he had clear evidence. In the form of what was almost a sucking chest wound.

"You!" Ferdinand pointed at one of the men standing around. "Hold him!" He didn't realize until later that the person he was ordering about was his sergeant. "Unless you want him to bleed out into his lung. Keep him still!"

Not exactly his sergeant. In theory, at least, the Medical Corps had a different chain of command. Sergeant Sandler had apparently not studied the theory. "Little Ferdie," since arriving at Luebeck, had been assigned every midnight guard duty and shit detail the sergeant could come up with. And "Little Ferdie" had had the good sense-or lack of guts-to put up with it. He was fully aware that the captain had a similar opinion of the medic's separate chain of command.

Not that that was the primary reason Ferdinand had failed to complain. It was more in the way of an excuse he gave himself, but even he didn't really believe it. Ferdinand simply wasn't a very forceful person. Never had been. He pulled a biter out of his bag and shoved it into the patient's mouth. "Karl, bite down on this and try to hold still. What I'm about to do is probably going to hurt worse than getting shot did, but we can't move you till I stabilize that rib. The musket ball broke your number four left rib in two places. It's a miracle it didn't rip your left lung apart. But if you move too much, the busted pieces of your rib are going to do the job the ball didn't."

As he was talking, Ferdinand was pulling stuff from the medic bag. Including the alcohol. That was where he had drawn the line with Sergeant Sandler, and with Karl and the other troops in the company. They had wanted to drink the stuff. But he had had it drilled into him in medic class that it was a bad idea. Not just because it would be needed for sterilizing wounds like this one. Pure alcohol was bloody dangerous to drink.

The ball had cut a crease in Karl's chest. But to do what he was going to have to do, Ferdinand was going to have to cut some more. First the alcohol, then the scalpel, then the tweezers to grab bone fragments.

Ferdinand didn't hear the shot, but he felt the flinch as one of the men holding Karl in place instinctively tried to duck. "Hold steady, damn it!" Alcohol on his hands again, then reaching into Karl's chest to carefully pull a large chunk of bone away from his lung.

Someone made a retching sound. Ferdinand didn't even look up. "Johan, if you're going to throw up, let somebody else hold his arm and get away from here!" A suture used to tie the fragment of rib in place, then another to repair a nick in the lung that Ferdinand had caused while he was pulling the large fragment of rib, away from the lung. All the time, praying that Karl hadn't lost too much blood. That he wouldn't die of an infection caused by the muddy ground on which he was lying. That Ferdinand had guessed right about what to do. That the pieces of gut he'd used to get Karl's ribs together wouldn't break. Ferdinand applied the sterile bandage and called for a stretcher. Karl had lost consciousness about half way through the procedure. Which went to prove what Ferdinand had already known; that Karl was one tough son of a…

"Gently now! Gently! We can't afford to put stress on the body." As the stretcher bearers were carrying Karl away, Ferdinand looked around for another patient, only to see that the battle was over. He guessed that it hadn't been that much of a battle in the great scheme of things. The Danish forces were back where they belonged. And apparently casualties had been fairly light. There hadn't been any other calls for medics in his area anyway.

Which is what he should have been praying about, he realized. It had taken him… Ferdinand didn't know how long it had taken him. But it was more time than a field medic was supposed to spend on a patient. His job was supposed to be simply to get them stable and transport them back to a real doctor. But Ferdinand knew that if he tried to do it that way, Karl would've been dead before he got back to Luebeck.

The doctor was Jena trained, with six months in the Grantville teaching hospital. He was surprisingly good for a military unit. And he questioned Ferdinand about every step he had taken. The issue was how much damage would have actually been done transferring Karl back to the aid station that had been set up in a converted beer hall in the town. Then, once he was clear on what had happened, the doctor had dumped all over Ferdinand. Not because he disagreed about the effect on Karl, but because performing that kind of treatment in the field meant that Ferdinand wasn't available in case someone else needed him.

They found someone with Karl's blood type to give him a couple of pints. And the doctor went back in and cleaned things up; made sure the rib fragments were in the right place. And that the lung wasn't leaking.

Karl would be returning to light duty in about three weeks. He should be back to full duty, if there were no complications, about nine weeks after that.

Ferdinand drew a deep breath. "Now, back to the company."

Ferdinand was nervous about returning to his company. He was remembering ordering the sergeant and the men of his company about as though he was the captain or something. Especially he remembered telling Johan to get away. Johan wasn't a bad guy, but he was very proud of his courage and didn't take kindly to anyone disparaging it. For the life of him, Ferdinand couldn't remember who he had cussed out for flinching or why they had flinched. But he figured he was in trouble for it, whoever it was.

"How's Karl?" Sergeant Sandler asked.

"Doctor Jensen says that he will be in bed for the next three weeks or so, then light duty. That's assuming no complications, Sergeant."

Sandler nodded and said, "Get cleaned up and get some rest."

Ferdinand looked down at his uniform. It was covered in blood and mud with horse shit on the knees. He wondered, sort of vaguely, why the sergeant wasn't screaming at him about the uniform. Sandler was a stickler for proper military appearance. But, mostly, Ferdinand was too tired to care. He managed to get his uniform off and get some of the blood that had splashed on his face and hands up to his elbows off, then fell into bed.

Sergeant Sandler looked at the little man as he walked away. Covered in blood. Granted, it wasn't his blood, but Sandler realized that if Little Ferdie hadn't been there, the man whose blood it was would be dead. And that man was a friend of his. Sandler was a tough man, a veteran of many battles. He had seen a lot of wounds. Karl's wound was the sort that killed people, killed them in a matter of hours and often in minutes. He, unlike Ferdinand, had not been busy with the battle. He'd been holding Karl's shoulders. He hadn't flinched from the musket ball that had come near, as that was a matter of years of experience. He didn't think Ferdinand had even heard the shot. He was too busy saving the life of a man who had been less than kind to him.

Sometime during the battle, the notion of having a member of the medical corps assigned to his company had gone from being an irritation to a blessing. Hell, Sandler thought, half the doctors he had met couldn't have done what Little Ferdie had done. He didn't know any who could-or would-have done it with musket balls flying.

"Hey, Doc. How's Karl?" Corporal Melman called as Ferdinand entered the mess the next morning. Ferdinand looked around for the doctor, but didn't see him. He hesitated but it was clear that Melman was talking to him.

"He should be fine in about three months," Ferdinand answered. Melman just nodded. He made no threats and didn't do any blustering about how tough he was.

From then on the men of Ferdinand's company called him "Doc." Ferdinand was never sure why. For that matter, neither were the men who had once teased him so unmercifully. They just knew that they needed a name for the man who would hold their lives in his hands should they be wounded in battle. "Medic" wouldn't do. They knew he wasn't a real doctor with a diploma from a university, but he was what they had. What they would have, if they were hit by a musket ball or trampled by a horse.

Ferdinand might not be a real doctor, but he was without a doubt their doctor. So they called him Doc.

One of the reasons Captain Lehrer was less than pleased to have a Medical Corps contingent assigned to his company was that Captain Herr Doctor Jensen was a total stuffed shirt. Who insisted that he was of equal rank and superior status to a mere military captain. Jensen was collage educated and Lehrer, though he could read and do figures, was not an especially literate man.

When Jensen came to complain about the troops calling a mere medic "Doc" Captain Lehrer tried not to laugh for about three seconds, then he started to howl.

Captain Herr Doctor Jensen was not amused. Oddly enough, he wasn't the least bit upset with Medical Corpsman First Class Ferdinand Bader

… well, maybe the least bit. But he knew Ferdinand, even knew his family to say hello to. He knew darn well that Ferdinand had not insisted on or even encouraged the new nickname. Ferdinand Bader didn't have it in him to demand even the status he was due, much less more than he was due. For instance, Ferdinand had not once mentioned that his father was among the minor nobility. Nor that he had two years of college, one in Leipzig and the second in Jena, before his father had cut him off over political differences and the fact that Ferdinand didn't act like a proper noble.

The issue wasn't about Ferdinand Bader. It was about an important principle. There were too many quacks out there pretending to be medical doctors and killing people through ignorance and superstition. Which was also the reason Jensen was so insistent on his title. At least, that was the reason that he admitted to himself.

"You want me to tell the men to change a nickname?" Captain Lehrer asked, still laughing. "Do you think I am a fool?" Apparently you do, or you're a fool yourself… or both. "My men are killers, Captain Herr Doctor Jenson, Giving stupid orders that I know they won't obey anyway would decrease my ability to direct who they kill. And who they don't kill.

"The men will continue to call Medic Bader 'Doc' for the same reason they call Melman 'Ogre.' Because they choose to."

After Jensen tried to explain his reasoning, Captain Lehrer nodded "I see your point. But you're applying it to the wrong people in the wrong way. The troops calling Ferdinand 'Doc' isn't going to cause them to run off and get treated by a barber. If anything, it will do the opposite. They will go to Doc and if it's something he can't handle, he'll send them to you. Doc isn't some quack; he is a trained medic-trained enough to put Karl back together in the field and to know when he needs to send the patients to someone with even more training. I don't insist that you call him Doc, but don't expect me to give any orders on the subject and don't you try to give any either. That would make the men less likely to trust you when they need to."

Captain Herr Doctor Jenson wasn't happy about it and he wasn't convinced but there really wasn't anything he could do about it.

The same custom started up in other units of the USE Army, for the same reason. And where it didn't appear spontaneously, it spread as troopers transferred between units.

And pretty soon, in spite of the stuffed shirts in both the Medical Corps and the regular military wishing it otherwise, a lot of field medics were happier to receive the accolade of "Doc" than they were to get a promotion.

It meant a lot more to them.

The Galloping Goose

Written by Herbert and William Sakalaucks

"Okay, guys, very carefully, peel the logo stencils and coverings off the doors and I'll get the big one on the back end," Arlen instructed. The sharp smell of drying paint hung in the air, a fine mist shrouding the gathered crowd, as Mike and Martin peeled off the new door logos for the Grantville, Rudolstadt, and Saalfeld Railway and Tram Line; the rays of light glistening off the black logo. A capital G above the R and S looked like they were ready to fly with their speed lettering extensions.

"You know, Arlen, this new logo really makes it look like it is ready for speed," Martin commented. "How's the rear logo look? You've kept it a real tight secret, I'm not even sure Francisco's spies could have gotten any hint about its design."

"Come on back and see," Arlen said, with a smirk on his face. Everybody crowded around in the tight space behind the engine. There on the back door was a picture of a goose running flat out, neck parallel to the ground, feet in mid-stride. "I'm calling this new engine the 'Galloping Goose' class railbus after its Colorado narrow gauge ancestors up-time."

Resplendent in its silver and black paint scheme, was an old Ford truck cab and frame with a hand-crafted wooden passenger compartment that Martin had built. Martin's prior experience as a boatwright showed in the smooth sweeping lines of the body. It could seat twenty-four passengers and could carry luggage and freight in the back. Arlen had scrounged the glass and seats from an old Blue Bird bus that was being scrapped. The interior looked like a Black Forest cuckoo clock-makers dream. Every possible inch was carved black walnut and polished to a high sheen. A small propane stove for heat was also in the rear of the car. Underneath the Goose, Arlen had installed a small set of lead wheels with a large drive wheel set in back, powered by a chain drive. The Ford's frame still had a hydraulic lift in front for machinery.

"How fast do you think it can go?" asked one of the workers in the crowd.

"On a good, flat track and no load, probably forty miles per hour. Around here in the hills, and with the rail we've got, maybe twenty to twenty-five with a good tail wind." Most of the GRS's current freight trains averaged around ten miles per hour. "That's still twice as fast as our freight trains can do." Arlen was grinning from ear to ear.

"So, has the railroad bought it already?" Mike tried to prick Arlen's ego a little. They'd been friends since grade school and were always trying to upstage each other. "Last I heard, they wanted to run trials with it to make sure it really worked, and see if passenger demand would support its cost."

"They're still looking at a trial. I've painted this one as a demonstrator. I had to scrounge up just about all the silver auto paint that was left in town. Hopefully, seeing it in railroad colors will help seal the deal." Arlen had put a lot of his own time in on designing and building the Goose, but his enthusiasm still had a bit of doubt clouding it. Mike sensed the hesitation and waited for Arlen to continue. Arlen sighed and went on, "It's probably got the same problem the original Geese had. They tended to gallop from side to side at higher speeds. We've got an upgrade planned for the production model to improve the springs and weight distribution that should solve that problem if it crops up. We just need to get the first one sold. We even have a larger steam-powered version with a wooden body on the drawing board, but first, we have to sell the railroad investors on the idea that passenger business can be a paying proposition."

Passenger service in November 1634 was very austere, expensive, and slow. The Goose showed potential to provide a quick way to overcome many of the objections that had been raised about improving passenger service. Arlen knew that the best engineered equipment still had to be sold to be successful.

The whole crew proceeded to board the Goose while Arlen started the engine. "Mike, since you're a trainee engineer, I thought I'd let you be the one to back her out of the shop and show her to the world."

Mike slipped into the seat that Arlen vacated for him. He turned on the music system and inserted a CD. "I thought this might be appropriate for the occasion." Strains of John Denver singing "Jenny Dreamed of Trains" filled the Goose. Slowly, Mike backed the Goose out into the rail yard and then parked it on the service track. Everybody piled out, many commenting on how beautiful the interior was and how comfortable the seats were. Mike muttered under his breath, "Not if you ever had to ride two hours on a field trip on them."

After a while, the excitement died down and Mike nudged Arlen in the ribs to gently remind him of the passing time. "Don't forget our evening plans. You know that Dee and Mimi are waiting for us to take them to Tyler's Restaurant tonight and we both need to clean up before we meet them. What time are the reservations for?"

The deer in the headlights look that Arlen got told him everything he ever needed to know. "Move! I'll help Martin check that everything's cleaned up with the paint sprayer. He can lock up and I'll meet you at your house."

The shop crew hurried to clear the shop before the boys' girlfriends ended their short, yet exciting lives. Tonight was the informal rehearsal dinner for Arlen and Mimi, who were getting married on Sunday. Mike had gotten leave to be there as the best man and Deidre Hardy was going to be Mimi's maid of honor. All the workers razzed Arlen for his forgetfulness as he hurried off, but they were also proud of what they and Arlen had built. Martin was the proudest of all.

When Arlen arrived at his parent's home, out of breath, his mother greeted him at the door. "You make sure you don't get any of that grease and paint on the bed. Last time you were late, you just tossed everything and you almost ruined the comforter!"

"I'll be careful, Mom." Arlen responded light-headedly. "Can you call Tyler's and make sure everything is set for the dinner, please?"

"I already did. I also called Mimi and Dee at the new apartment and told them that you and Mike were working at finishing the Goose. I called her back when you came in and they'll meet you at Tyler's in forty five minutes."

Arlen called out, "Thanks, Mom! I've got the coveralls in the basket. I'll start the laundry before I go."

Just as Arlen finished dressing after his shower, Mike arrived and the whole process was repeated. He and Mike checked each other's appearance, flattened Arlen's cowlick for about the fifth time, put on their best winter coats, and walked to Tyler's.

On the way, Mike went over the plans for Sunday's upcoming nuptials. "Just remember, Arlen," Mike started his lecture, "You've got the easiest part in the whole thing. Make sure you're there by noon. Then, you stand at the front of the church, smile from ear to ear as Mimi walks down the aisle, turn around, say 'I do,' put the ring on her hand, kiss her, turn around and walk down the aisle without tripping. Got that?"

Arlen chuckled, "I think so. Just don't forget the ring, okay?"

"Right."

The friendly banter on wedding plans continued. As they approached Tyler's Mike asked apprehensively, "Are we on time? Dee said she'd skin me if I got you here late."

"Funny, Mimi told me the same thing about you! We've still got five minutes. Wouldn't it be funny if they were late this time?"

"Not a snowballs chance. Speaking of snowballs, I think we're in for some snow. You can almost taste it in the air." Mike loved snow. He'd spent quite a bit of his winter breaks skiing at Snowshoe Mountain before the Ring of Fire and had a knack for sensing when snow conditions would be good.

"I just hope if it does, that it doesn't spoil the service on Sunday. Mimi and I don't have a lot of family that can be here." The thoughts of just what the Ring of Fire had cost them carried Arlen and Mike into Tyler's. Once across the threshold, the aromas from the kitchen woke them from their reverie. They looked anxiously for their dates.

Herman Bartig, the doorman, greeted them as they walked in. "Mimi and Dee are waiting in the bar area for you. They just got here five minutes ago. Don't let them tease you that they've been waiting. They sounded mischievous as they came in!"

When they entered the bar, Mimi spotted Arlen and made a bee line for him. The un-ladylike, full-body kiss drew a round of applause from the regulars at the bar. After the wolf whistles died down and Arlen got his breath back, he asked, "Do I know you, ma'am? My fiancee is supposed to be around here somewhere and she's the really jealous type."

"Just wait 'til Sunday night!" she said with a sly grin. "You ain't seen nothing yet!"

"I hope I'll see nothing on Sunday night. The wait since our betrothal in June has been killing me. Cold showers only work so long!"

Dee came up and greeted Mike with only a slightly more demure kiss. "Maybe next year, Mike?" she asked with a wiggle of her eyebrows. Dee and Mike had been going together since their junior year in high school and were starting to get serious. All four young people had been friends since they were in grade school and the last three years had brought them even closer together. Mimi and Dee were both starting teaching careers and Mike and Arlen had worked on trains since their volunteer days at the Cass Scenic Railway.

The maitre-de came up at that point and interrupted to tell them that their table was ready. The table they approached was covered with a crisply ironed white tablecloth, elegant porcelain plates, stainless steel flatware, crystal glasses and a silk rose in a vase. As they sat down, a waiter arrived with a tray of appetizers. "Compliments of the management, Thuringerwald Oysters, for the bride and groom."

Mike responded with laughter. "After the earlier demonstration, I don't think Arlen will need them, but please, give the chef our thanks!"

The rest of the evening was a complete success. Arlen and Mimi had a chance to have an evening to relax after all the preparations of the past few weeks. When Arlen started to try to talk shop with Mike, Dee fixed him with a withering glare and the subject quickly changed. Around midnight, the celebration broke up and Mike and Arlen escorted the girls back to the new apartment, each couple pausing frequently to embrace and warm up.

The snow started falling softly in large, fluffy flakes. The world seemed to narrow down to just them as the snow muffled the sounds of the evening and visibility decreased

Arlen sighed. "Looks like I'll have to stop by in the morning and shovel."

"I'll have something to warm you up when you're done."

"You'll probably still be asleep. I've got some paperwork to finish if I'm going to get next week free. We've got one engine in for a major repair and I need to show Joachim and his crew how to braze and refinish the broken part. I should be done by noon. I'll stop by afterward to help get the last of my stuff moved into the new place."

They were covered by a light white blanket by the time they finally said good night. Mike and Arlen hurried back to Arlen's parent's home because the snow was now starting to come down in earnest.

Saturday morning dawned gray, cold and snowy. Even though it was only late November, it looked like the storm was going to dump a lot of snow. Arlen and Mike shoveled out his parents' house and the new apartment. Mimi and Dee had a big breakfast ready for them and then shoved them off to work.

"We've got a ton of stuff to finish up today and it's looking like we'll have to fight the snow as well as time. You guys go do what you need to at the shop and we'll see you later this afternoon." Dee looked like she would brook no argument, so Arlen and Mike set out for the shops.

After trudging through ankle deep snows for fifteen minutes, they were huffing and puffing, just like the engines they worked with. They weren't the first to arrive that morning. They were greeted by a toasty fire in the office's pot belly stove and the aroma from a large pot of coffee warming on top.

"Everybody in?" called Arlen as he walked out to the repair bay. The steam engine sitting there had its piston rods out. The rod from the engineer's side was on the work bench due to a stress crack that had been found during routine maintenance. An instructor from the tech school was coming by to show Arlen and three of his senior down-time shop machinists how to handle the brazing and heat treating. The informal class was set to start at ten. Over the next hour, Arlen was planning to finish his reports to Hugh Lowe, the GRS president, on the Goose and develop a plan for testing the railbus.

As Arlen was putting the finishing touches on the plan, Martin Erlanger came in the front door of the shop, shook off his coat and stamped his boots clear of snow. "Such a day, not even a wild pig would go out!"

"Any word on how long they think this will last?" Arlen was starting to get worried that the weather could ruin the next day's wedding festivities. He knew everyone coming was already in town, but trudging through snow was not his ideal of how a wedding party should leave the church. He didn't want Mimi to be disappointed.

"I just stopped by the radio station and what reports they could get from the west and north show a wide area of snow. They think it will probably go through tonight or maybe tomorrow morning. They also had just gotten an emergency signal from Saalfeld. There's been another industrial accident, this time at the steel works, with some serious injuries. They had to use the radio because the telegraph line was out. They think there was a snow slide or a tree down somewhere along the rail line. I hope they are able to handle the injuries at the steel works' clinic. The hospital's full and this storm has all the roads closed between here and Saalfeld."

The phone rang. Martin answered, "Hello."

Everyone could hear his end of the conversation and watch his body language. Immediately, they all could tell it wasn't good news. "No, the engine's not ready. You'll have to talk to Arlen about that." Martin held out the receiver. "Arlen, Mr. Lowe from the railroad. He has some questions I can't answer."

Arlen had a bad feeling about what was coming. "Arlen Goss here. What can I do for you, Mr. Lowe?"

"Arlen." Mr. Lowe sounded rushed. "We've had a serious accident at the Saalfeld steelworks. We need to transport two serious burn cases. I've talked to Dr. Adams at the hospital, and he has some real concerns about where best to treat these cases. They've still got a number of people they're treating for that chemical spill and they've got a heavy load of flu cases. Two of their staff members who have some burn experience are at Jena right now working with the university to set up a new trauma unit. Jena hasn't been hit with the flu yet, and this snow should slow down travel enough that it shouldn't spread there too soon. The big question is, can we get them there? Is Number Four done with its rebuild? It's the only engine with a plow that's big enough. We don't have anything else that could get through heavy snow."

"Number Four has a cracked rod. We won't be able to get it rebuilt before Monday."

All Arlen heard was a deep sigh on the other end as Hugh thought back to his conversation with Dr. Adams. The doctor had gotten on his soapbox about all the world's medical problems always having to come to Grantville to be cured. The current overload at the hospital made this an ideal opportunity to showcase what other facilities could do. Hugh decided to see if there was any other way to get the patients safely to Jena. "Is there any way to accelerate the work? The men that got injured were doing some experimental test castings for the railroad and I really want to help."

Arlen saw his chance. "We just finished that railbus I was telling you about last week. It's got enough power to buck the snow and we can put a plow on it. Should take us half an hour to hook up and by the time the medics are ready and get here, we should be ready."

"Great! I'll call the hospital and tell them to have their EMT's meet you at the shop. Just be ready to roll as soon as you can. The reports I've gotten indicate at least two serious burn cases and one fatality already. I'll also send a track crew along, in case there's any trouble on the line."

"We'll be ready, Mr. Lowe." Arlen hung up and motioned the staff to gather round. "Martin, call the county road shop and tell them they need to bring over the old wedge plow truck so that we can use the plow. Vandy Rowland, the foreman, will know which one we need. Julius, get the Goose fueled and make sure we've got extra fuel for the motor and the stove. Stefan and Joachim, take off the arm rests on the last four sets of seats. Put boards between them and get some sleeping bags so that we can use them as beds. Mike, give Mimi a call and tell her what's happening. Also, I'll need an engineer, can you handle it?"

"Sure, but don't you want someone with more experience than I've got running the Goose?"

"You are the most experienced engineer we've got for it. Nobody outside the shop has even been in it and Martin and I will be along if any problems crop up." Mike's eyes went wide, but his military training kicked in and he just saluted and went to finish his tasks.

Arlen took a deep breath and started going through a mental checklist on what else might be needed. This would be the Goose's shakedown run and there were a lot of things that could go wrong, especially with the amount of snow they had already gotten and what was still coming.

"Spare drive chain, extra sand for traction, rerailer, bars, shovels and jacks in case of derailment, track bars and spike mauls in case of track problems, two chainsaws, extra blankets, food and water in case we're stranded and a rabbit's foot for luck." As he thought of each item, Arlen called out to the shop crew and they located and loaded the item into the freight compartment. Martin got two of the shop crew to help him top off the sandboxes on the Goose and then added four fifty-pound bags of sand in the back. By the time he'd finished his loading, the truck had arrived with the plow. Mason Sizemore came in, shaking off snow like a small bear and sputtering about proper channels for requisitioning government property.

"Mason, please, we've got an emergency. Just help us get the plow switched over to the railbus."

Mason looked like he wanted to say some more but then acquiesced. "The snow is breaking branches and trees that are blocking the roads. Where did you say you want the plow set?"

Arlen pointed out towards the yard. "We've cleared a space on one of the crossings out front. If you can set the plow on the tracks so we can just hook up and go, that would be great. It'll save us time and that's the most important thing right now."

Mase went out at the fastest jog Arlen had ever seen him do. The sound of gears meshing told him that the truck was being positioned. Then, brakes squealing brought Arlen to the window to see what had happened. It was the ambulance from the hospital pulling in. Walter Allen and Frieda Zimmerman, both EMT's from the Fire Department got out and unloaded their gear from the back.

"Come on in here and tell us what more you need!" Arlen called. "We're getting the plow installed now and should be ready to go in five minutes."

"Has anyone called with an update?" Walt seemed extremely concerned. "The last radio call we got was that there was one definite fatality and two serious burn cases." While Walt was talking to Arlen, Frieda and Martin were transferring additional supplies from the ambulance into the Goose. Just then, three more figures came high stepping through the snow in the yard. The snow swirled in through the door as they entered. Lucas Chehab from the VoA radio station was followed by Mimi and Dee.

"Walt, I've got the status update for you. Michael Koester and Fredrich Klein have got second degree burns on their arms and upper bodies. Their team leader, Gustav Arndt, received third degree burns over most of his body and died shortly after the accident. They're not sure exactly what happened. Mr. Pierce sent word that he thinks they have enough pain killers to hold the two for about two hours. You'll need to get there before then or they may lose both of them to shock."

Walt took a moment to digest the news. His conversation with Dr. Adams when the call came in had been short and to the point. The hospital was full. If the patients could be transported to Jena safely then it was Walt's responsibility to make the call and get them there. This was a golden opportunity to start expanding medical care expectations to other sites. It looked like the parameters were a go for transporting to Jena unless something came up while they were enroute to Saalfeld. "Arlen, how long will the trip from Saalfeld to Jena take?"

"A normal run would be Saalfeld, Rudolstadt, and then to Jena. With the regular trains, that would be almost three hours in clear conditions, four in the snow, if at all. If the Goose works as well as our plans say she should, we should be in Saalfeld in less than half an hour and in Jena by mid-afternoon. Say about two hours, including the time to load the patients," Arlen said.

Frieda slipped in from the rail yard, "All the supplies are loaded. We're set. Are we ready to go?"

The shop entrance door swung open again and a group of five track workers from the railroad congregated around the entrance.

"Were you all raised in a barn?!" someone yelled from the shop. A chorus of good natured " ja 's!" came from the group, who were mostly down-timers. "Well, shut the door before you let all the hot air out!"

" Jawohl, we wouldn't want Julius to wander out into the snow." The old joke drew a sharp elbow to the ribs of the joker from Martin.

Julius quickly shot back, "At least they let me in the house now. You, they still keep in the barn." That drew another round of laughter from the track crew.

"If you are all done with your jokes, let's get loaded. Two men are waiting on our arrival. We've got a long day ahead of us. Anybody have anything else they need?" Silence greeted Arlen's question. " Los gehts!" They all filed out into the swirling show in the shop's switching yard and started to board the Goose.

Mike settled into the engineer's seat. Martin took the conductor's seat in front of the passenger area. Mike commented, "You know, without the steering wheel, there's a lot more space here than you would think."

"I sure hope we're in time for those guys in Saalfeld," Arlen muttered.

The only sound as they worked their way through the tracks in Grantville was the hum of the Ford's engine and the clickety-clack of the wheels on the rail joints. The Goose was a ghost through the snow as they approached the station. The Goose slowed and Mark O'Reilly got out and threw the harp switch to move the Goose to the main track. He signaled with his kerosene lantern to have the Goose move onto the station main track. The Goose moved slowly over the switch and picked up Mark as they went by. Arlen then had Mike stop and Martin went into the station to get the train orders for the first leg of the trip. Mr. Nisbet, the railroad's general manager, was waiting inside to personally deliver the train orders.

"You're the only thing on the line today. We've cleared anything that might slow the run. You're authorized to run at whatever speed you feel is safe. Show me what the Goose can do and I'll decide how to present it to Mr. Lowe and to the board, but get those guys there safely. Remember," Mr. Nisbet added sternly, "the trip from Rudolstadt to Jena, it's all older strap rail. You'll have to watch the rail in case the weather has caused any problems." With that, he handed Martin his Form 19. Nisbet's fervor surprised Martin. The railroad manager was known as a cold fish, but maybe he had a heart after all. Martin turned and headed out the door into the blowing snow.

When he reached the Goose, he looked up to check the sky. It was still snowing, and the sky was a uniform grey. The wind had started to blow the fallen snow into drifts in the yards around the station. Martin opened the door and got in quickly, shaking the snow off as he entered. "Here's the Train Order. We're the only one on the line. We need to watch the strap rail on the Jena line. They're not sure what this type of weather might do to it." He felt a little pompous repeating what the written orders said, but railroad regulations required that the engineer verbally acknowledge the orders from the conductor. Since he was acting as the conductor on this run, Martin wanted no questions that he had followed procedures.

Mike acknowledged the orders. Grinning, he added, "At least we don't have to watch for snake-heads like the old-timers did. With the welding and the short sections of real rail at the joints, it's a big improvement over the old style strap rail." Mike then let off the brake and the Goose started trotting its way to Saalfeld.

The silver paint scheme on the Goose blended in well with the falling snow. Only the headlights and red markers on the rear highlighted its departure through the Grantville yard. As it hauntingly glided out of town, the chatter inside the passenger area slowly died down. Everyone knew this was a mercy mission and thoughts of what lay ahead weighed heavily on them.

Mike asked, "What's the speed limit on this short section to Schwarza? The plow seemed to handle the snow in the yard pretty well."

"Hold it down to twenty-five. The wye at Schwarza's not too far and we may have to pick up updated orders there. I'll be glad when the signaling is upgraded and we don't have to get orders at every station." Arlen was concentrating intently on the track and the sounds and movement of the Goose, so Mike just nodded and went back to watching the track for snowdrifts.

Five minutes of waddling later, the small whistlestop station at Schwarza loomed up on their left. It was positioned inside the wye where the three tracks from Grantville, Saalfeld, and Rudolstadt joined together. Mike slowed down, but the station master was standing on the platform with a wooden hoop outstretched for Mike to grab. Mike rolled down the window, stuck his arm out and snagged the hoop. He handed it to Arlen and then rolled up the window. As he brushed off the snow that had come in, Arlen took off the flimsy paper and read it quickly. "Mike, there's a track crew located telegraph break just south of Mile Post 3. Top speed five miles per hour between Mile Posts 2 and 4. Watch for workers and new rail along track. Saalfeld is expecting us in twenty minutes."

"You've got it, Arlen. If you see anything, let me know."

Walt called out from the back, "Any new word on the patients?"

Arlen yelled, "Nope, just slow orders for a crew fixing the telegraph. We should be in Saalfeld in fifteen or twenty minutes. Looks like the track's okay to there."

The track crew was relieved. They hadn't looked forward to working in the snow, if they could help it. As cold and blustery as it was, hands would freeze to rails or tools in minutes if they weren't careful. The news that they would reach the patients in Saalfeld quickly lifted everyone's spirits. As they passed Mile Post 2, Mike slowed down. The spray from the plow subsided and the Goose's waddle dissipated.. Everyone got a good look at where a tree had taken out the telegraph line as they drifted past. There was a bundled up figure with a lantern that waved the Goose through. As they passed, the three telegraph workers gave a muffled cheer that could be heard inside the Goose.

Arlen got up and walked back into the passenger area. "Walt, Frieda, we're about five minutes out. If there's anything you need to do before we arrive, now would be a good time to do it."

Frieda nodded, "Your guys did a great job and got everything set before we left Grantville. We just need our patients now." Arlen accepted the praise quietly and turned back for the cab. He gave Martin a pat on the back. "We'll have to let the shop crew know what a good job they did when we get back. You've really gotten them working together as a team." Martin smiled. In the guild, only a master might ever be thanked for a job well done.

The normal scene inside the foundry was like a vision from Dante's Inferno. Heat and smoke left everyone who wasn't acclimated gasping. The sparks and noise left visitors on edge.

The morning had started out quietly enough. It was Saturday and they were working a light shift. The railroad's experimental casting work was the only major job scheduled. Susan Swisher had hoped to get caught up on paperwork when the scream of the steam whistle alerted him to an emergency. As she bolted out of her office she could see the workers starting to gather in the casting area. There were three groups, each gathered around an injured worker. Thadeus Zakrewicz, the shift EMT, came jogging out of his office, emergency gear in hand and yelled "What's happened?"

"I don't know, but it looks like it's in the casting area."

They got their first good view of the situation when they turned the corner between the open tool racks. Gustave Arndt was on the floor in the pour area with a small group gathered around his still body. It took Thad only a glance to tell that, if Gus wasn't already dead, he soon would be. He'd been burned severely over the top half of his body and his leather protective gear was covered with slowly cooling steel that still popped and sizzled. Susan did a quick pulse check, shook her head and they headed over to the other two burn victims.

"Susan, take these keys and go back to my office. I'll need the full emergency kit and what morphine that's there. You know the drill. Anything else you might find that could help, bring it along." Knowing that there would be questions later about what had happened, Thad decided to ask while the events were still fresh in everyone's minds. "Anybody see what happened here?"

"I did, Mr. Zakrewicz. They were all set up to try the test casting for the new turntable support ring. Gus was supervising the work and Michael and Friedrich were making sure the mold was secure. The crane operator called out to ask if they were set. It sounded like Gus said, 'Go,' gave a hand signal to start, and then he was lying across the mold. Michael and Friedrich tried to pull him back but all they got for their efforts were burns. Gus didn't make a sound at all."

"Anybody else?"

"Just like he said. I saw Gus wave his hand like Jaimie should start pouring. Gus had an odd expression on his face, took two steps forward, and seemed to be reaching for something in the pattern area. Then the pour started and Michael and Friedrich were trying to help him."

There were other nods of agreement but no more comments. Thad was starting to get a suspicion about what had happened. The lack of response to the initial burn and the collapse were key indicators. "It sounds like Gus may have had a stroke or a heart attack."

He was interrupted by the sound of someone getting violently sick across the room. The crane operator, Jaimie, was down on his hands and knees, trying to stop what were now dry heaves.

"Jaimie, are you all right?" Thad asked. He knew he would probably need to send Jaimie to see a counselor after this was all over. Thankfully, someone had found a blanket to cover Gus.

"It was my fault, Thad. I thought Gus signaled to start."

"He probably did, Jaimie. It looks like he may have had a stroke and was gone before he even started to reach for the pattern box." The dazed look in his eyes lifted a bit. Jaimie was young and, with help, should recover. Thad turned back to his two surviving burn patients as Susan and Gunther returned with the needed supplies.

"Michael, Friedrich, we're going to get you to a hospital as fast as this weather permits. Right now, you're not feeling much pain because you're in shock. I'm going to have to get your leather gear off so that I can assess the extent of your injuries. Before I do that, I'm going to give you some morphine and you'll be out like a light in a few minutes. You won't feel the pain when I start to work. Your families have been called." He looked at the crowd and got an affirmative nod from Jim Pierce, who had just arrived. "And they'll be here shortly," he continued. "Anything you want me to tell them when they arrive?"

Michael whispered, "Tell my wife, I love her and to take care of herself. The safe box is…"

Susan interrupted. "You can tell her that yourself tomorrow at the hospital. This looks bad and will hurt like hell for a while, but you definitely aren't going to die."

An hour later, after the two men had been freed of their protective gear and the wounds cleaned as well as conditions allowed, Thad turned to Mr. Pierce, and asked, "What's the word on transportation? Can we get them to Grantville okay?"

"I talked to Dr. Adams. He wants us to send the two burn cases to Jena if we can. The trauma folks with burn training are in Jena for a meeting on the new trauma center and he's worried that all the flu cases they've got right now could hurt their long term survival chances."

Susan turned white and looked like she might faint. Jim Pierce hurried to add, "It's not as bad as it sounds, the railroad's been contacted and is sending a special train that will take them directly to Jena and should be here anytime. Grantville's sending their two EMT's with burn experience and a fresh supply of morphine. They think they can get everyone to Jena before nightfall. Can we move them to the station now?"

Thad considered the situation for a moment. "We're set here. They're both stabilized and the morphine has them out. I'll need eight strong, steady carriers to get them transferred to stretchers and carried to the station. If we cover them with enough blankets, the five minute trek shouldn't be too hard on them."

Mr. Pierce called out, "I need eight volunteers to move the injured!" Twenty hands shot up and in two minutes the two injured had been gently placed on stretchers and the carriers were ready for the trip to the station. Just then, a strange noise startled everyone. In the ensuing quiet, Mr. Pierce said softly, "I think your ride's here now!"

On the outskirts of Saalfeld, Mike hit the button on the electric horn Arlen had installed. The loud blasts of " aahhOOOOOgah " startled the crew in back and announced their arrival to the whole town. As soon as Mike slowed down for the red approach signal, one of the track crew jumped off and slogged through the snow and tried to get throw the switch for the depot's turnaround wye. It wouldn't budge.

"Damn blue ice's frozen the switch!" Somebody else jumped out with a sledgehammer and broom and between the two of them, they had the switch cleared in less than a minute. Mike brought the Goose up and they reboarded on the fly. They repeated the process at the next leg of the wye and then backed down the track to the depot. They were greeted by a procession from the foundry. A figure broke out of the crowd and stumbled through the snow to the Goose. When she got closer, Walt and Frieda both recognized Susan Swisher. Even with all her winter gear on, nobody else in Saalfeld was that short with long red hair.

"Walt, Frieda, you have superb timing. We were just bringing the two patients to the depot to wait for you. Are you ready to board them now?" Susan asked.

'We're all set," answered Walt, "We've got four sets of seats set up to be temporary berths. We can just set the stretchers across and not have to transfer them at all. Are there just the two?"

Susan nodded. "Yeah, we lost Gus before the accident. Thad says it looks like he may have had a stroke and was dead before Michael and Friedrich tried to save him."

The next minutes were spent in organized chaos trying to get the stretchers in without jarring the patients. Once in, they secured them to the improvised berths with rope.

Mr. Pierce approached the railbus. "I don't know what this thing is but it's the prettiest thing I've seen since my wife had our last kid. Who's in charge?" Arlen pointed at Mike, Mike at Arlen, and then they both looked at Martin.

After a short, pregnant pause, Arlen said, "I designed it, Mike's running it, and Martin built it."

"Well, thank you. All of you. I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you, but please, get these guys safely to Jena. They've both got families that are depending on them. Will you have room to carry five other passengers? Susan promised them she'd try to have the families there at the hospital when they woke up. I'd also like to send Thad and Susan along to help care for the injured. Can the-what did you call it-the Goose handle that big a load?"

"No problem. I know Walt was a little concerned that he and Frieda might be hard pressed to handle two serious burn cases by themselves."

"How soon can you get them to Jena?"

"If all goes well, we should be there in less than two hours." Arlen was confident. "The Goose is running well and we've brought along tools and help in case we run into any unexpected problems."

"Under two hours to Jena in this weather? I didn't know the railroad had anything like this. Where's Hugh been hiding it?"

"This is her shake down trial. We finished with the plow this morning after your call came in."

"Just keep up the miracles, and again, thanks." After shaking their hands, he turned and started to clear the crowd back from the tracks.

Since he'd been appointed as the conductor for this trip, Martin went into the station. There were orders waiting for them as far as Rudolstadt. All they said was, "Track now clear, proceed at best safe speed to Rudolstadt. Pick up new orders there. Signed, Nisbet." When he got back to the Goose, the crowd had grown, but Mr. Pierce was keeping them back at a safe distance. Martin boarded, gave Mike the orders and checked with the medical team.

"Are you and your patients set?"

Walt and Thad answered together, "All secure. Ready for you."

"Mike, signal the crowd and let's go." The Goose let out with a raucous aahhOOOOgah and started waddling down the track. A couple of kids in the crowd imitated the horn and started flapping their arms as the Goose left the station, with the gathered people waving and cheering. As they left the well wishers behind, Thad asked, "Where did you get that horn, Arlen?"

"On the bottom of a shelf over at the old auto parts store. They had a dozen of them and I bought all of them. If the Goose is successful, I wanted all the railbuses to have a distinctive warning horn."

"I don't think anyone here will ever forget it," chimed in Susan. "I jumped three inches when you announced your arrival with it."

Everyone settled down for the ride to Rudolstadt. In ten minutes, they were passing the Schwarza station again and the signal was green for the track to Rudolstadt. Mike hit the horn to announce their arrival but the stationmaster just waved them through. As the Goose waddled through the switches for the wye, Friedrich tried to roll over and moaned when the blankets restraining him rubbed his arms. Thad checked the dressings and drip bags. "I think we better break out the morphine you brought, Frieda. These doses are starting to wear off. They're both in better shape than we originally thought." After a bit more morphine, Friedrich settled into a light sleep.

Once they were past Schwarza, the grade started a slight rise for the route to Rudolstadt. The plow was throwing a bow wave of snow to each side as the Goose waddled along at a steady twenty-five miles per hour.

"Everything's working fine, Arlen. If I keep it at the high end of each gear, it seems to cut back on the side to side motion. I think you've got enough power to even pull a trailer for freight." Mike was smiling. "I've hardly had to use any sand so far!"

"Don't jinx it, Mike. The worst stretch is on the far side of Rudolstadt." Even though he was trying to sound pessimistic, Arlen could not help but feel optimistic. The Goose was performing far better than he had hoped.

Mike concentrated on potential snow drifts. They were almost in sight of Rudolstadt before the first serious problem area was encountered. The track crossed the corner of an open field where the wind was being funneled to the opening. Mike geared down and started spreading sand. As they hit the drifts, the Goose shuddered as it carved the drift and then broke into the clear fifty feet later.

"That wasn't bad at all," remarked Arlen. "Any problems in the back?" Martin gave a thumbs up after checking with the EMT's.. "We're just about at Rudolstadt. We'll stop for orders and a quick break. Facilities are outside, behind the station. The last stretch will be the toughest, so use the opportunity if you need it."

Ten minutes later, the semaphore signal for Rudolstadt station shone bright red through the swirling snow. Mike pulled up in front of the station and set the parking brake. Walt and Thad quickly busied themselves checking that the ropes holding the stretchers hadn't loosened.

Arlen called out, "Rudolstadt, two minute break!" He turned to Mike, "I've always wanted to do that since I was a kid. I'll be back in a minute if you can hold it that long."

Mike had a quick come back, "I wasn't the one who drank two cups of coffee before we left. I'll mind the store until you get back. Make sure you remember to pick up the train orders!"

Arlen headed out behind the station. By down-time standards, the facilities were luxurious, with ventilation and varnished seats. While the cold kept the odors down, they were unheated, so no one lingered. Arlen was quickly back inside the station to get the orders for the remainder of the run but Martin had gotten there before him.

"What have you got for us, Thomas?"

"You aren't going to like them. We've had two breaks in the telegraph line between Jena and here. Before the wires went down, the track crew at Rothenstein signaled that they had ten inches of snow, with drifting. They were patrolling the tracks on horseback but they haven't reported back yet. I'm giving you cautionary orders to proceed at best safe speed with a danger warning for snow and debris beyond Mile Post Twenty-Two. There are some deep cuts beyond Kahla and Rothenstein and you could get some serious drifting there. The wind's in just the right direction for problems on that stretch. Good luck and Godspeed." With that, he shook their hands and went on to change the signal to green.

When Arlen and Martin got back into the Goose, they were covered with a light covering of fine snowflakes.

Martin went into the Goose to check on the passengers. "How're they doing?" Thad was just checking their vital signs. "Michael is stable and in remarkably good shape, everything considered. Friedrich got a deep burn on the back of his neck and his blood pressure's been fluctuating a little, but if we get them to Jena soon, they both should be okay. How's the situation looking?"

"This last stretch will be the most difficult. Once we reach Rothenstein, the tracks appear to have some problems but the track crews haven't been able to reach the trouble area. At best, we may have a tree or two down, more likely, the tracks are drifted over." Mike was climbing back in the cab. He looked like a miniature polar bear with all the snow covering his winter gear.

"All aboard!" called Martin as Mike shifted the Goose into first gear.

Arlen climbed into the fireman's seat, rechecked the passenger compartment and then told Mike, "Let's roll! I've got a wedding to get back for tomorrow."

The track was aligned for departure. As they rolled out of town, Mike and Arlen both felt a change in the Goose's performance. After a few moments their worried looks slowly changed to comprehension. "We're on the older strap rail now! You can hear the different clatter as we cross the joints."

"I just hope we don't have a problem with this rail, Arlen. The snow looks to be slowing down, but they've had more here than we had in Grantville." The window wipers were laboring to keep the windows marginally clear. Mike rolled his driver's side window down and tried to clear the build up he could reach. "A least this is easier than a regular truck. I don't have to worry that I'll swerve into the next lane." Just then, the plow of the Goose found a small drift and Mike got a face full of snow.

"Looks like I'll have a simply abominable best man if you keep that up!" roared Arlen.

Sputtering and cleaning snow from his eyes, Mike groaned at the miserable pun. "Just wait until that first kid arrives, Arlen. Paybacks are hell."

The Goose made steady progress. Before they knew it, the station at Kahla was in sight. It was just a whistlestop station and the signal was green so Mike didn't even slow down. The problem areas were beyond Rothenstein. Mike was a study in concentration as he tried to watch for any drifting and gauge when the use of sand was needed for traction. The passenger compartment was staying nice and toasty with the passenger's body heat and the stove putting out its share of heat, too. Both patients were quiet. Their families were still in a daze from what had happened, but were starting to ask Walt and Susan questions about the future.

"When will my Friedrich be back to work? We don't have much money to pay the hospital," pleaded the injured man's wife.

"Don't worry, Anna, the company's paying all the bills. Mr. Pierce told me so before we left, and his pay's continuing, too."

The smile Susan got from her seemed to light up the whole compartment. "Friedrich told me this was a good job, but now I know it has good people too. Danke!"

The Goose rounded a curve and the mounted track crew came into view at the Rothenstein station. Mike slowed to a stop to let Martin check on the track's status.

Two minutes later, Martin climbed back in looking grim. "The crews were able to locate the breaks in the wire. The snow had broken off some overhanging limbs. They're going to wait until the weather clears before fixing them. Our problem is that about four miles outside Jena, there are a series of three cuts that are starting to drift shut. We may have to do some serious snow bucking to open the route."

"Well, that's why we waited for the plow," said Mike. "I'll watch the speed and we can have the boys in back get out and check each cut before we try to break through. Anything else?"

Martin shook his head no, sending snow all over the cab.

"Then let's roll!"

Arlen got up and went to discuss the situation with Walt, Thad, and the track crew. "Martin says we're about thirty-five minutes running time from Jena, but we're probably going to have to plow through some big drifts. Walt, Thad, I'll need you to make sure the patients are braced securely. Mark, you and the rest of the crew will need to get out to check the drifts for any debris that might have come down the sides of the cuts and let Mike know how big a drift he's facing. We'll probably need to take a couple of shots to get through each one if the track crew's description was accurate. Take all the shovels and picks out and pass them out when you get off. We'll need to clear the rails after each shot to reduce the chance the Goose jumps the track from the snow build up."

The entire track crew looked like they were dealing with a befuddled spinster. "We'll handle it, Arlen. We've done this before. Don't try to teach us how to suck eggs!" The good natured laughter that followed helped quiet Arlen's nerves.

About ten minutes later, the first cut came into view. The drift was as high as the top of the plow. Mike slowed down, shifted into first gear and inched up to the drift.

"Time to earn our pay, boys!" Mark called.

The track crew piled out to get their tools and start checking the drift. Inside a minute, Mark was back in the Goose grinning from ear to ear. "It's just a narrow wall, taller than it is wide. You should be able to bust right through. We'll stay outside, just in case you need a second shot, but it should go on the first try." Mark got out and waved the crew back up the track so they wouldn't get showered with snow.

Mike let out the clutch, applied sand, and nudged the drift. He almost broke through on the first try. He backed up fifty yards, waited for the crew to clear the rails, and then came at the drift again, a little faster than before. With hardly a shudder, the Goose broke through in a cloud of snow. As he stopped a hundred feet past the drift, Mark and the track crew hustled down the cleared track to reboard the Goose.

"That was easy," remarked Thad.

"Don't count your chickens, yet," said Arlen. "We've still got two more to go." Within a half mile, the next cut appeared and the drift was definitely more formidable. Mike made a half-hearted attempt at the drift and actually cleared five feet before he was forced to stop. The track crew got out and repeated the drill. No debris was found, but this time, the drift was almost thirty feet wide. After the rails were cleared, Mike backed up and made a run at the drift. There was a jolt as the plow struck, but neither patient was disturbed. When the cloud of snow from the impact cleared, almost twenty feet of track was cleared. The Goose pulled away from the snow bank it had created and the track crew fell to with gusto to clear the rails and the packed snow at the front of the pile.

After five minutes, the crew cleared out and Mark signaled for Mike to try again. When the plow hit the snow this time, a huge pile of snow flew up and landed on the roof and behind the railbus, but the Goose broke through to the other side. The track crew scrambled over the snow left on the tracks and reboarded.

Inside, thermoses of hot coffee were passed around. Everyone was tired, but cheered by the fact that only one cut was left.

The last cut appeared and someone in the back choked and sprayed coffee everywhere. A whispered, " Gott in Himmel," was the only comment as the extent of the drift became visible. The cut was more of a ledge cut into the side of the slope. The track was on a shelf extending for a hundred yards with a steep drop off on the left and a thirty foot high stone face on the right. Amazingly, the tracks were clear, but for almost the full length of the shelf, a ten foot ledge of snow overhung the rail bed. The snowfall had slowed to just flurries and the smoke from Jena was visible about two miles in the distance.

"What now, Arlen?" asked Walt.

"I don't think we have a choice. Everybody unloads and, quietly, walks to the far end of the cut. If we can, Mike and I will try to get the Goose past. If we don't, Martin can send someone to Jena for horse litters for the patients. That may take an extra hour, but they'll get there. The track crew can work at digging us out. If we make it, we reload and are in town in five minutes. If anybody else has any better idea, I'm open to suggestions."

Silence greeted his request.

Thad broke the silence. "Okay, then. Let's get our two patients bundled up again, just like we did for the trip to the station. While we're doing that, Mark, why don't you have your crew carry their tools down past the drift? Then come back and we'll all help get the patients moved."

The next minutes went quickly as the passengers and patients were all walked or carried past the drift. Once they were safely set on the other end of the cut with Martin, Mike turned to Arlen and asked, "Shall we do it fast or slow?"

"If we do it slowly, it's just about sure that we'll get trapped and they'll have to send for the horses. If we go quickly, we may stay ahead of the snow as it falls. Either way, I don't think we're getting back to Grantville, tonight."

"Fast it is, then. Hold onto your hat, and buckle in. This could get hairy!" Mike tapped the horn once to let the passengers know he was ready. Mark signaled back with his lantern to come ahead. Luckily, the track was straight here, so Mike backed up the Goose for a running start. One more tap on the horn and the Goose was off.

As it picked up speed, Arlen read off the speed for Mike, "Ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty, thirty-five…" They passed the start of the overhang and almost immediately snow started to spray in all directions. The plow struck a column of snow when they were about a third of the way through the cut. The ensuing snow cloud hid the Goose from the view of the small group huddled beside the tracks. The snow ledge started to collapse from the far end. Just then the Goose broke into the clear, and, like a surfer riding the Banzai Pipeline, the Goose stayed just ahead of the falling snow and cleared the cut.

Mike lay into the horn and the call of " aahhOOOOgah " resounded across the hillside. About three hundred yards past the group, the Goose finally stopped in a cloud of snow and sparks from the braking wheels. As the screech stopped, Arlen could be seen pounding Mike on his back in celebration. The Goose then backed up and the group jumped back on board as quickly as they could with two litters. Five minutes later, with the horn echoing off the city walls, the Goose entered Jena with its patients.

The Goose was greeted by a cheering crowd assembled around two waiting ambulances. A space had been cleared of people from the station platform to the vehicles and had been shoveled and swept clear of snow. There were two gurneys with attendants waiting for the patients. A group of very important looking people were off to the side. As Walt and Thad got out to make arrangements to transfer their patients to the gurneys, Beulah McDonald and Patrick Onofrio hurried forward to meet them. It had been Beulah's call that the center could handle the burn patients. She wanted to make sure that they got the best care right from the start. The transfers to the ambulances from the Goose went smoothly. Patrick rode in the back of one with Thad and Walt and Frieda rode in the other. Susan stayed with the families to help get them lodgings at a local inn before they went to the medical center. As soon as the ambulances left, the crowd poured into the cleared area to get a better view of the Goose and its crew.

A tremendous cheer went up when Mike, Arlen and Martin got out and the group of dignitaries descended on them. Wade Jackson started in with a speech immediately. "Congratulations on a magnificent accomplishment. Your efforts to…" Arlen smiled and waved and tuned out the rhetoric to check on what was happening with the rest of his passengers. The stationmaster was leading the track crew over to a nearby Brauhaus for some serious toasting. The ambulances had departed and Beulah and Susan were shepherding the families onto a wagon to take them to the local inn. Beulah caught Arlen's eye and pantomimed for him to wait and that she'd be back in thirty minutes. The crowd noise drowned out whatever she might have tried to yell.

Thirty minutes later, the speeches were still going strong. Every dignitary in town wanted to be heard and each speech was an agonizing rehash of the previous one. At one point, Arlen caught himself starting to nod off and looked over at Mike. Mike seemed to have perfected the art of sleeping with his eyes open. Arlen started searching the crowd and finally saw Beulah approaching. When the current speaker paused to draw a deep breath, Arlen quickly broke in, "I'd like to thank all the wonderful people of Jena for this magnificent reception. I see my contact from the medical center coming and I must check with her on my passengers. My associates, Michael Lund, who was the engineer for the trip, and Martin Erlanger, who helped build the Goose, will be able to stay, but I must make my farewell."

Mike turned to Arlen and muttered under his breath, "I'll get even!" Martin just stood back quietly and enjoyed his fifteen minutes of fame.

Arlen chuckled and turned to meet Beulah. She gave him a huge hug. "They both should recover. Walt and Thad did a great job stabilizing them for the trip. I know we could have gotten them to Grantville faster, but after we heard Gus had died and the others were not as serious, Dr. Adams and I felt that the threat from all the flu cases at Grantville was the more serious threat to their survival. This also gives us a chance to show the world that Grantville isn't the only place to get medical care."

Just then, a roar from the crowd caught their attention. Mike was just finishing his short speech with "… he got betrothed in June and his bride-to-be is tired of waiting. So just be here at dawn with your shovels!" He turned to Arlen with the biggest grin possible.

Arlen told Beulah, "I think I'm in trouble. I better get back to see what Mike's done to me now. I'll stop by the medical center as soon as we're done here." As he made his way through the crowd, all the men were shaking his hand or slapping his back. "What did you do to me now, Mike?"

"Paybacks! I told them about you wanting to get back for your wedding. There's no way to get the track cleared so that we can return tonight. The students have volunteered to start out early in the morning to hand shovel the tracks as your wedding present from the school. Now smile and accept your bachelor party!"

As the crowd started to lift Arlen and Mike on their shoulders, Martin waved them off and yelled to Arlen, "I'll take care of the Goose. I'll stop by the medical center when I'm done." All Arlen could do was give him a thumbs up. As the crowd headed for the street Arlen yelled to Beulah, "Radio my fiancee! Tell her I'll be there tomorrow. I'll stop by the medical center before I go!" His voice raised in pitch as the wave of people moved him away from the Beulah.

"Good luck! I'll make sure she gets the full story!" Beulah walked slowly away, chuckling as she went.

Arlen let out a groan. "She's gonna kill me!"

One of his supporters informed him, just loud enough to be heard over the crowd, "Only if the hangover from our party for you doesn't get you first!"

Early the next morning, still dressed in his shop coveralls, Arlen slogged through the snow up to the medical center front door, bleary eyed and a day-old beard on his chin. Mary Pat Flanagan spotted him first and came over with a sympathetic grin. "You look like you could use a good cleaning up and a gallon of coffee. Follow me. We've got a small shower facility for the staff down the hall. Leave the dirty clothes on the bench and I'll have one of the orderlies freshen them up while you're cleaning up."

Thirty minutes later, after a shower, shave, and a change of clothes, Arlen came back to the main reception area. "Thanks, Mary Pat. That sure makes my morning! How are Michael and Friedrich doing?"

"Their prognosis looks good. Thad did a great job on the initial response. Walt and Frieda will be returning with you but Thad and Susan are planning to stay over an extra day or two to help the families. You might want to go get Mike and Martin and get the Goose ready for your return trip. The half of town that wasn't celebrating with you boys last night left two hours ago to start clearing the tracks."

"Any idea where my best man and my conductor might be hiding?"

"Try the lounge. Mike came in an hour before you, got cleaned up, said something about 'needing to drive,' and curled up on an old sofa in there. His snores have been shaking the walls since then. Martin came in late in the evening. He got a good night's sleep and left about the time Mike arrived. He said something about getting the Goose turned around and ready for the return trip this morning."

"I'll take you up on that offer of coffee. Two cups, black, please, so I can get Sleeping Beauty in there moving. I've got a wedding to get to."

"Coming right up! I'll meet you in the lounge with them."

After their morning coffee roused them a little, Mike and Arlen went to see the patients. Walt and Frieda were in the room when Arlen and Mike arrived. The families crowded around to thank them again for helping save their loved ones. Pleading the pressing urgency to get back for the wedding, Mike and Arlen gathered up Walt and Frieda, took their leave and headed for the station. The ten minute walk in the brisk morning did as much as the coffee to wake them up.

"I must have sipped that same beer for two hours last night. I'm tired but not hung over," said Mike, disgustingly clear eyed.

Arlen groaned holding his head. "I wasn't so lucky. Everyone kept insisting on buying a round for the hero and groom. If I don't see another stein of beer, it will be to soon."

"You can sleep it off on the ride back. With a little luck, the anesthesia won't have worn off before Mimi kills you for missing the wedding."

When they reached the station, the stationmaster said, "The Goose is all preened, fueled, and ready to go. Herr Erlanger took care of that when he showed it to Count von Sommersburg last night."

At the mention of the Count's name, Arlen swung around, "Who did you say was here?!"

"Count von Sommersburg. He was here for a meeting with some engineers at the University and he was all over the Goose with Herr Erlanger after you left yesterday. He gave strict orders that everything possible be done to get you back to Grantville in time. The tracks should be clear by inside the hour. Your track crew will go back on the regular freight tomorrow. Herr Erlanger is with the Goose now."

Arlen went to smack himself on the forehead but thought better of it, "How could I let a chance like that to promote the Goose slip by?"

"Don't worry, Herr Goss. There were a lot of telegraph messages going north after he was done last night to someone very important. The count looked very pleased when he left. I think Herr Erlanger did a very good job. He seemed very pleased too, when he left."

"Wait and see, Arlen. I think the run we made was promotion enough. Martin's tour may be the clincher. He knows the Goose as well as you do."

"I hope you're right." The previous day's adventures and the evening's festivities were starting to tell on Arlen. He looked like a feather could knock him over. With a visible shake, he cleared his mind to organize his thoughts and changed the subject. "You said we have about an hour yet until the tracks are cleared?"

" Ja. The crew has a portable telegraph with them and they've sent back reports on their progress. Everything is going smoothly."

Walt interrupted. "Frieda and I have to secure some gear we left with the ambulance. We'll go get that and be back in half an hour."

Mike and Arlen were left standing on the platform with the stationmaster. The quiet was then broken by a noisy rumble. After a few seconds, Arlen asked, "Anyplace a person could get a light breakfast nearby?"

"I live here above the station. Meine Frau would be happy to fix you gentlemen breakfast. We serve food for any passenger the train might have when it stops and we feed the crews. Herr Erlanger ate earlier. Just follow me!" Hurrying inside and up the stairs he yelled, "Gertrude! I need two more breakfasts for Herren Goss and Lund. Macht schnell, bitte!"

Gertrude came into the common room twenty minutes later beaming and carrying an armload of dishes heaped with eggs, bread, and sausage, and two beers in her free hand.

"You eat! You have a big day ahead!"

"And hopefully a bigger night," quipped Mike.

Mike and Arlen set to with an unexpected gusto. Sixteen hours between meals required some serious eating. As they mopped up the last of the eggs with bread slices, Arlen asked, "How much do we owe?"

" Nein, nein! The railroad will cover for your help."

" Danke, Frau Schimmel! That's the best wedding breakfast a person could hope for." As they pushed away from the table, Mike glanced out the window. Martin had the Goose parked in front of the station warming up, shining like a new silver dollar in the early morning sun. Walt, Frieda, and Martin were already waiting in the passenger compartment.

Mike got an ice cold splash of water down his back from an icicle hanging from the station's overhang. He let out a yelp when it landed. "Hey, Arlen, the sun's out. Maybe we can get back in time!"

The stationmaster came running up and gave Arlen his train orders. "Must not forget these!"

All the orders said was, "Highball it! Signed, Curtis."

"I think she's anxious, Arlen."

"No kidding. Let's go!"

They climbed into the Goose, Mike hit the horn and headed for Grantville. As they approached the cuts outside of town, Mike sounded the horn again. A cheer greeted them as they reached the first cut. A group of shovelers was returning from further up the track with shovels over their shoulders. The students in the group were singing a bawdy song and Arlen blushed beet red when he finally caught what the song said. Mike slowed down and rolled down the window as the track boss came up to the Goose.

"All clear to Rudolstadt. Just watch this last group. After them, you're clear."

"Okay, tell everyone thanks. I'll get him there on time." Mike rolled up the window and with a strident aahhOOOOgah, the Goose continued its journey. While Mike ran the Goose, Arlen talked to Martin about the meeting with the count.

"He wanted to know everything we have planned. He was especially interested in the plans for a steam-powered Goose. I told him that the Steam Engine Company should have the new steam design ready by the time we move to the new shop in Saalfeld. He also wanted to know if we could make the carbody larger. Something about living quarters during campaigns. I told him the new steam design should be able to handle that. I've already drawn plans up as you asked."

Arlen sat there for a minute and digested the information. "It sounds like we've got someone very interested. When I get back after the honeymoon, we'll start building the new steam power plant prototype. Right now, I need some shut eye." He got up and headed back to the empty seat next to Mike. Inside a minute, he was asleep.

The ride back was through a winter wonderland. The trees were all draped in a thick blanket of snowy boughs and the countryside sparkled with its clean white coat. There was some light drifting, but the plow blew through it, leaving silver clouds of snow. The sun had some warmth to it and was already starting to melt the early snowfall. As they rolled along, Mike had a chance to watch the scenery more than he had the day before. The tree branches were hanging low with all the snow that had fallen. "Looks like the AT amp;L linemen will be busy the next few days repairing wire." The only comment he got from Arlen was a change in the timbre of his snoring. Mike settled in to make sure he got back to Grantville in time.

The wedding was scheduled to start at one in the afternoon. The Goose arrived in Grantville at a quarter to twelve.

The cheers were deafening as everyone got out. Martin got the keys, and told them he would bed the Goose down. Ed Piazza, Frank Jackson and Dr. Nichols headed the reception committee.

Frank pulled Arlen aside, "The truck will get you to your folk's house so you can clean up and change and then it'll take you to the church. Mr. Piazza and I will see you later at the reception. Good job!" With a solid pat on the shoulder, he propelled Arlen towards the truck with Mike Lund following close behind.

The next hour went by in a haze, but at five minutes to one, Arlen and Mike were delivered by their driver to the front door of The Church of Christ. Pastor Curtis came out to chivy them inside. "Are you all set? Got the ring?" he asked.

Mike's face looked like he'd been struck by club. Arlen choked and turned white, "After all the warnings!" He was hardly able to get the words out.

Mike laughed. "Gotcha! I told you about paybacks. I've got them right here." He pulled the matched rings from his pocket.

The church was packed Then the music started. Dee was first through the door in her peach-colored bridesmaid outfit. After she reached the front of the church, she smiled at Mike, turned to the other side of the altar and took her place.

Then the "Wedding March" began. Mimi entered. She had on her mother's white silk wedding dress. She had added a knitted white shawl that Antanette Tranis had made especially for the occasion. Antanette had recently arrived with her family from Lithuania. Her husband was one of the machinists at Vulcan. Arlen's heart felt ready to burst; the soft colored glow from the stained glass windows only enhanced the glow from Mimi. The pride and love in her eyes told him everything was right with the world.

Afterward, Arlen swore that was all he saw until Rev. Curtis said, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. Ladies and gentlemen, I present Arlen and Mimi Goss. You may kiss the bride!"

As they started to walk down the aisle, the organist started to play the recessional march. As they reached the front doors, Mike turned to Dee, "What's that tune?"

"It's something one of the Stone boys suggested. Mimi and I had him play it for us and it sounded very good. Some march from Ralph Bakshi's movie Lord of the Rings."

The crowd started to file by, Frank Jackson shook Dee's hand. "Good choice of music, gets the crowd out quickly!" Chuckling, he congratulated Arlen and turned to Mimi, "Good man you've got there. He's really going places!"

Hugh Lowe was next and also added his well wishes. "See me after the reception!"

Later that evening as the reception was winding down and the presents were being readied for opening, Frank Jackson, Ed Piazza, and Hugh Lowe took Arlen aside. "You sure showed what that Goose can do," said Hugh. Frank and Ed nodded agreement and grinned. "Mr. Jackson here approached me last night after you got to Jena with some questions and this morning, Ed here brought me a message from the Transportation Minister. Count von Sommersburg wants a special Goose for Gustavus. It was a good thing that message came in Morse code. Ed almost died laughing when the radio operated finished translating. Can you believe it? Just like one of the old rail baron's palaces on wheels. He said he needs something comfortable and regal to get him quickly around in all types of weather."

Ed started to chuckle. "Once word gets out that Gustavus has a private railbus, I'll bet that every nobleman will want one, too!" A light seemed to go off for Ed. "Every politician, too, once campaigning starts. The old whistle-stop politicking will return! Arlen, I'll bet even Wettin gets with you after you get back from your honeymoon."

Arlen reached for a chair and dropped into it. "We may have to scrounge walnut for the bodies and old trucks for the frames, but we'll do it!" The rest of the conversation was lost as Mimi tossed her bouquet. Ed Piazza, Frank, and Hugh offered a toast, "To Arlen and Mimi Goss, a long, happy and fruitful marriage." Ed Piazza gave Arlen a mischievous wink, and took a drink.

With visions of the future, Arlen kissed the bride and whispered, "And to the Goose, the founder of our future!"