Letters from Unsung Heroes: The Train – Samuel

Hello Danny,

I’m afraid my train has gotten caught in a bit of a spot. You see, there seems to have been some sort of a total power failure and we have not progressed for about two days by my estimate. Quite annoying, I admit, but we’ve managed to make a jolly old time of it. Some of the men have conscripted me into helping out with some of the labor. One of my tasks is to keep small fires going as the tunnel we are trapped in seems to have no source of light. Unfortunately, the fuel I gather has to be from various luggage that the other passengers don’t care about and burnable yet unnecessary equipment and crates from the train as there seems to be nothing to burn whatsoever in this dark tunnel. Thankfully, we haven’t had to burn much as most passengers have seemed quite content to just sit quietly in the dark.

I found a few oil lamps in a car near the front that seemed to be a holding area for emergency supplies. What few I found we’ve hung up in and outside of key points on the train. Strangely, one old woman seems to have brought her own. I can’t fathom why she would bring such a thing on a train ride but it has made things easier for everyone.

Anyhow, my helpfulness has not gone unrecognized. The men who’ve been working the rounds have taken notice and invited me into their circle after the work was done last evening. We played cards and they gave me whiskey and rolled cigarettes. I nearly choked on my first smoke and gagged on my first drink. The men broke out into hysterics over this and though I felt ashamed at first, one of them gave me a firm slap on the back and said in a gruff voice, “We’ll make a man of you yet!” and everyone followed with a “Hear, hear!” I realized then that this was some sort of ritual that they have all been through at some point in their life and they probably didn’t just enjoy these things naturally.

Having developed this comradery, I have now taken my first steps into manhood. This disaster has turned into a sort of self realization for me. All the things I used to enjoy seemed so trivial and these simple pleasures are what really bring true happiness. Oh, I’m sure I’ll still get joy out of my old fancies, but this experience has made me much more grounded and for that I am most grateful.

Anyhow, I hope this letter reaches you. The postmaster is going to make an attempt to leave the tunnel by foot and has offered to deliver any messages we might have to those on the outside to let them know of our predicament.

Your good friend
Samuel

P.S. Should you receive this before I arrive, please send word to my mother to let her know that I am alright. She’s probably worried sick that I didn’t phone to inform her of my arrival.

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