Thirty Years on Track for the Extra Mile E-Book

Samuel Krüger

• Herausgeber: epubli
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 310

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Samuel Krüger is a railway engineer with over thirty years' experience in the railway industry worldwide. He started as a commissioning engineer in Portugal and passed through many challenging projects on different continents, as a project manager, sales manager, key account manager, founder and CEO for different companies and solutions in one of the most exciting industries of our times. In this book, he reveals some of the stories that have shaped this long career.

Leseprobe

Thirty Years

on Track

for the Extra

Mile

Samuel Krüger

Copyright © 2024 Samuel Krüger

Text: Copyright © Samuel Krüger

Review:Christina Marx

Envelope: Copyright © Aaron Ben-Samuel Krüger

Responsible for the content:

Samuel Krüger

Kaskihalme 1 E 10

02340 Espoo

Finland

[email protected]

Print:epubli – ein Service der Neopubli GmbH

Berlin

Gratitude

O

f course, it is difficult to express the deep gratitude to all those partners, colleagues and friends who have accompanied me throughout this long career as a “railroader”. Everyone was so incredibly helpful in walking this path, even if there were moments that were annoying every now and then. I hope that people will forgive me.

Special thanks go to my parents, who taught me to be sincere and honest in life and to be kind to everyone, even if not everyone is a real friend.

I am extremely grateful to my lovely wife Bettina for always standing by me, encouraging and supporting me, even though I often didn't have enough time to actually relax on vacation. I am incredibly blessed that she is the one who always holds our family together with great love. I dedicate this book to her.

My greatest thanks go to my Father in Heaven, who has carried, blessed and protected me throughout all these years.

Preface

W

hen I think about railways, my earliest memories date back to January 1972, when I embarked on a journey from Buenos Aires, Argentina’s Capital, to the city of Resistencia in the Chaco province. At that time, I was about three and a half years old. I distinctly remember the long and arduous trip during the relentless sub-tropical summer, with its scorching heat and pervasive dust that seemed never-ending.

Sometime later, I recall witnessing trains arriving and departing in our hometown, Santa Rosa, in the north-western part of Rio Grande do Sul, in Brazil’s most southern State. Whenever we visited the city for shopping, I was captivated by the bustling activity surrounding the freight trains being loaded and unloaded by hardworking individuals under the relentless subtropical sun. I often daydreamed about one day boarding one of the passenger trains and traveling to our capital city, Porto Alegre, over 500 kilometres away.

In 1976, during a visit to my uncle Alfred in south-eastern New Jersey, USA, I constantly found myself encountering long freight trains passing through the small town of Bridgeton. Every time we had to halt at the level-crossings, I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe as these endless trains transported goods from one place to another.

Later that summer, while in Germany visiting friends near Karlsruhe, I was introduced to an impressively large Lego railroad and train set belonging to their two sons. My brother and I became engrossed in playing with it, constructing multiple tracks, crossings, bridges, tunnels, locomotives, passenger coaches, and freight wagons. The weekend was far too short to explore all the possibilities, but it ignited a lasting desire to have my own Lego railway or something similar.

During the same period, we visited some other friends in northern Germany and one of their sons had a huge model railroad from Märklin, “the” model railroad brand in Germany and maybe worldwide still today. I still have some of the layout in my memory, including bridges and tunnels. We played for hours and I wished I could take it with me. Unfortunately, it remained a dream.

As a diligent saver, I managed to save up around 100 Deutsche Mark, a substantial amount at the time, just before our return to Brazil. With an additional contribution of about 20 Deutsche Mark from my parents, I eagerly awaited the unveiling of my carefully chosen assortment of Lima train tracks, wagons, locomotives, passenger cars, a tunnel, several buildings, and a railway station. Building my own miniature railroad at home became a cherished childhood dream.

For several years, my siblings, friends, and my late cousin Andreas joined in the joy of playing with the railway. We added Lego buildings, bridges, and many more elements, creating unforgettable childhood memories.

As my parents prepared to return to Germany in the beginning of 1986, it became evident that we had to leave the cherished Lima model railroad behind. I made the heartfelt decision to gift it to the child of a close family friend. While it was bittersweet for me, knowing that the old model railway would bring joy to another child made it a little easier to part with it.

I am uncertain whether that old Lima model railroad still exists and functions today, but railways have continued to thrive in my dreams ever since. Deep within me, there has always been a silent desire to someday work in the railway industry.

When we arrived in Amsterdam, we were warmly greeted by my late grandfather. From there, we embarked on a train journey to Maastricht, with a brief layover in either Utrecht or Eindhoven, including all the luggage we had brought from Brazil. It was March 13, a grey, humid, cold, and uncomfortable day. I vividly recall the yellow trains of the Dutch Railways, as we sat together eating the sandwiches that Opa Gerhard had brought for us. The train benches seemed remarkably spacious, although it might have been my young impression playing tricks on me.

Before I commenced my studies at the University of Applied Sciences in Aachen in the autumn of 1986, I had to complete an internship in a small town, approximately 50 kilometres away. Often, on Sunday evenings, I would take the train to a small village with a railway stop, Baal. It was always a struggle, as Deutsche Bundesbahn trains very often tended to run late. Consequently, I frequently missed the bus from the station to my humble bedroom during that summer. Nevertheless, I managed to find my way and survive.

In the summer of 1991, when I relocated to Nürnberg, I found myself surrounded by railway vehicles. The city offered an extensive range of transportation options, including trams, metros, commuter trains, Inter-city trains, Eurocity trains, and so much more. Nürnberg was also home to one of the world's most magnificent transport museums, showcasing a wealth of railway vehicles, exhibits, and an impressive model railroad for enthusiasts.

It is worth noting that Nürnberg holds historical significance in the realm of railways. It was in this very city, in December 1835, that the first German railways resumed operations between Nürnberg and Fürth, covering a mere six kilometres, with the inaugural locomotive named “Adler.” In just five years, Germany had constructed approximately 500 kilometres of railway tracks on its territory. By 1850, the country boasted an extensive railway network spanning already around 5.700 kilometres. Thus, the story that began on September 27, 1825, between Stockton and Darlington, in England, embarked on a global conquest, expanding from north to south and from east to west. And there are no signs of it ever ceasing.

I must also mention the remarkable transport museum in Nürnberg, renowned as one of the world's finest, with an emphasis on railways. Each visit left me in awe, as hours flew by while exploring its extensive collection. Unfortunately, parts of the museum suffered a devastating fire in October 2005, resulting in the loss of many historical vehicles, including the renowned afore-mentioned “Adler” locomotive.

As I approached the completion of my studies, I stumbled upon a job advertisement from one of the world's leading rolling stock manufacturers based in southern Germany. There were two jobs available: One seeking a commissioning engineer for electric high-performance locomotives in Portugal, the other looking for a commissioning engineer for commuter trains in Spain, in the Basque Country. Intrigued, I applied and was invited for a job interview, in February 1993. It was a rainy, windy, and cold day, reminding me of the day we had arrived in Germany. I arrived in time at given address.

The gentleman who greeted me in his office exuded a friendly demeanour and greeted me with a firm handshake, reminiscent of old-school manners. He took a pragmatic approach as we discussed the position. As it happened quite often before, nervousness got the best of me, and I struggled to express myself fully during the interview. Since one of my colleagues had also applied for one of the commissioning engineer roles, it remained uncertain whether I would be assigned to Portugal or Spain. However, the interviewer made me feel that the question wasn't anymore “if” but rather “whereto”. Just as I thought the meeting was concluding, I remembered something crucial and returned to his office. Sheepishly, I added, “Sir, I apologize for forgetting to mention... I speak Portuguese.” He glanced at me and simply replied, “You're going to Portugal!” The rest, as they say, is history...

The First Years

J

ust a few days before Easter 1993, I finally received my official papers, tickets and instructions for my first railway assignment abroad. I was supposed to fly to Lisbon and start as a commissioning engineer for the high-performance locomotive LE-5600 with 5600 kW which Caminhos de Ferro Portugueses, CP, had acquired from a consortium formed by two German companies and a Portuguese partner. The mechanical part was built in Amadora, in the greater metropolitan area of Lisbon, and the electrical equipment in its majority was shipped from different parts from Germany, Spain, and Switzerland for its final assembly in Portugal. Later, some major electric components were also manufactured in Portugal.

I was told my assignment would last at least until the end of September; however, it could possibly take up to three years or even more. Lots of questions came to my mind. What would happen with our flat we had rented in Nürnberg? How would a relocation to Portugal take place, and… Until then, I did not know and understand, that these things are just small pieces of cake for companies like the one I was just starting to work for. Of course, in some courses, our teachers had told us about these things, but would it be really this way? I should not worry… but anyway, it was all new for me.

I was very excited. Even more, I had just learned that I would become a father later that year. And now, I would need to leave my wife behind for some time. But everything went fine, the company made everything possible that it would be a smooth relocation to Portugal for her in the coming days as well.

In the morning of April 13, I was taken to the airport in Nürnberg to board the flight which would bring me first to Zürich and then later after a short layover, to Lisbon. It was a Crossair flight, an extinct daughter-company of the late Swissair. The tickets I had been handed from my employer a few days before for my first business journey were in Business Class. How would that be necessary for a commissioning engineer like me, on his first assignment? Even though the service was probably superb in those days, I cannot remember anything as I was too excited on that morning. The departure in cold and grey weather in Nürnberg was smooth as well as touching down in Zürich.

From Zürich to Lisbon, I recall having seat 1A and the time passed quickly when we landed at the international airport in Lisbon. I don’t recall what was served on this flight over the Iberian Peninsula. I only know it was fast and the MD11 took its approach over the Tejo River towards the runway in northern direction. I had a full view of the coastal line and the river as well as the bridge 25 de Abril. It was a sunny day in the Portuguese capital. A phantastic welcome.

I was taken to Alfa Hotel, a 5-star hotel my employer had booked in advance and where most of my new colleagues were staying as well. From there, I took the afternoon to understand how to get to the factory where the first locomotive had just rolled out a few days before, and I visited the area close to the hotel for a walk. It was a lovely spring afternoon on that Tuesday.

The next morning, I woke up early and went for breakfast. The weather had changed completely overnight. It was raining cats and dogs. The breakfast room was slowly filling up with Japanese tourists and they seemed to greet each other with something which sounded to my ears like Finnish: “Hajoko taivas?”, meaning “Did the sky fall apart?” In fact, it was just good morning in Japanese, “Ohayou gozaimasu”. Probably spoken quickly in Japanese, it sounded like Finnish… At least it fitted so well for the weather situation outside.

The sunny weather which had welcomed me less than 24 hours ago was gone… outside it seemed that traffic had collapsed completely. I went to the train station close to the hotel, but there was no train. Locals quickly told me that all trains were cancelled. I tried to catch a taxi and after quite some time, I finally managed to get one to take me to Amadora. The ride started slow, and it was getting even slower and slower… and I soon realized I would never reach the factory at 8 AM as it had been agreed on with my new superior Commissioning Director.

At some point, the taxi driver informed me that a new viaduct close to Amadora, which had just been released a few hours ago, had collapsed and nothing would move anymore… Cars were standing still. Nothing really moved forward. Driving through some small streets, and trying to find some alternative ways, we eventually came close to the station in Amadora and the taxi driver let me out. As I did not have a map nor a mobile phone with any navigation features – this was only April 1993 – I walked beside the tracks to get to the factory according to descriptions I had received from my employer earlier … “Fantastic start” I thought.

Finally, I managed to reach the gate and was let in by the friendly gatekeeper and presented myself to my colleagues who were already expecting me in the “commissioning barracks”. After a short introduction to all of them, I was finally presented the brand-new locomotive which had returned from a test drive the day before.

I was explained the main components on board and how the system works and started to make cable measurements with one of the commissioning assistant colleagues, and soon it was good to have lunch at the headquarters’ canteen, a few kilometres away.

The day passed quickly with all the new impressions and after having been introduced to the many Portuguese colleagues of the consortium, blue- and white-collar people, I started to feel somewhat at home, even though the dialect sounded so much different than the Brazilian Portuguese I was used to until now. Some expressions even had some parts in it, which in Brazil would be considered an insult or at least not very polite. Or they would have a completely different meaning in Brazilian Portuguese. But this was my new home now for at least the following six months and I would have a good time here.

Back in hotel and exhausted from the many new things I had learnt during the day and the fact that I eventually ended up in a locomotive, a real one, was more that I could have wished for. I had dreamt about it so many years ago as a child in southern Brazil. That day, my dreams had finally become true.

Time passed quickly at the factory in Amadora as there was plenty of work. Only a few days later, my wife and my sister arrived in Portugal with our old Saab 99 from 1982. My sister was staying in Portugal for an exchange year and helped us to quickly get familiar with the local customs and particularities.

During this time, I heard from my colleagues that in Portugal, especially on the commuter trains in the capital region, there were a lot of people “hanging” on the trains, even sometimes riding on the roof. First, I did not want to believe that, but soon I saw it myself and I remember thinking that this just could not be possible in Europe. I had only seen pictures like that from India or other parts of Asia. Almost every day, there were casualties, some of them being hit by another train coming from the other direction, just falling, or even getting in contact with the catenary of 25 kV. In those days, doors of the old stainless steel commuter trains did not have a safety mechanism, which would prevent them from being opened during operation or speeds over 5 km/h. In addition, there were external handles and steps which many passengers tried to get a ride on. The new commuter trains our company was delivering at the same time to the operator in Portugal, were the first trains where it wasn’t possible to open doors during operation or hang on steps or handles. In addition, the new trains did not offer the possibility to climb on the roof and get near the catenary, which considerably reduced the number of casualties.

After about three weeks in the hotel, we moved to Quinta do Valle, a rural touristic place close to the little town of Tomar, in central Portugal. From here, we wanted to find a small apartment to live for the next six months… or three and half years or longer… The reason was that the locomotives would be stationed in Entroncamento, literally “junction”, a little town in central Portugal, home of the main maintenance depot for locomotives.

During the first weekends, we spent quite some time here in the hinterland of Portugal to find a new dwelling, however, without success. The search was not easy as most of the Portuguese prefer to purchase and own houses or apartments and normally do not rent, especially outside of the capital area. But here, we could try it with more determination, slowly establishing contacts with locals and taking advantage of some information and tips of workers in the maintenance depot. They most likely knew people who had something to rent at reasonable conditions.

We decided to try it in Tomar, as the depot where the locomotives would eventually be stationed was just some 22 km away. This little town had a nice flair, lots of history, was home to the Convent of Christ Castle, a stronghold of the Templars, with many very narrow streets, long Jewish traditions, and one of the oldest synagogues from pre-expulsion times in 1492. Here and there, nice and cosy restaurants, a wonderful forest for hikes, an old aqueduct, a nice river with an old waterwheel... it had a special flair.

It was an interesting search. There were almost no realtors renting any space to live. And so, here and there we stopped people on the street and asked directly in Portuguese as we could not find any real estate agency or the like: “Could you tell me, please, where there are any houses or apartments for rent?” People looked at me… scanned me from head to toe… and one could literally see something was going on in their mind… and then it came out of their mouth: “Excusez-moi, parlez-vous français?” Now it was me who was really confused. I had asked something in Portuguese... and I get a reply in French! In the middle of Portugal! I did not speak French! What’s going on here? Am I in a wrong movie? Or what is this? I continued in Portuguese and then sometimes the next was: “Oh sorry, Sir, I just thought you are French or another foreigner. You are so tall and blond. I just thought this person cannot be Portuguese, and even less, speak Portuguese! Nobody outside of Portugal speaks Portuguese...”

Soon we got some good hints, and we finally found a good place to live, and after another few weeks at that Quinta, we were finally able to move into the new flat. However, it was hard work to find all the necessary furniture and home appliances like washing machine, fridge, tv, etc. It was like starting from zero.

Meanwhile, my days had a fixed routine. In the morning, I our commissioning director picked me up and we drove to the depot in Entroncamento. Very often, many long days of work were in store, with a lot of tests on the mainline. Many times, I came home late when it was already dark, because test runs are exceptional runs and we needed to wait for the other regular trains to pass first.

There was no day like the other. And Entroncamento was like a like little hell during the summer. Many years later, I found out there was a place in South Africa, with a railway connection to the ore mines in Northern Cap, called Hotazel… spoken “Hot as hell”, referring to the unbearable and oppressive heat of that place. Entroncamento was exactly like that! The Portuguese “Hotazel”. There was no escape for anyone. The only refuge we had, was our little office equipped with air conditioning or the driver’s cabin in the locomotives with a functioning air conditioning – in case there wasn’t anything broken.

As I had a task to accomplish during the first six months, we decided I would work out a description for the battery charger of this new locomotive from scratch, a document which was non-existent so far.

I needed to study the electric diagrams sent from the developers in Germany and translate the functionality in it into something comprehensive for the maintenance personnel of the Portuguese Railways. It was not easy to come up with something as it was completely new for me as well, but eventually the description made it into the maintenance manuals of the locomotive and is now part of the huge package of documents forming the user documentation of this railway vehicle.

The first weeks in Entroncamento were quite challenging for the whole commissioning team. We had to finetune many functions of the locomotive and adapt them to reality. Long working days required many extra hours. And the hot summer at the depot area additionally contributed to exhausting situations. Our office fridge could not be filled as quickly as we needed to take out cold drinks.

In addition, Portuguese Railways started to implement the ATC EBICAB 700 on the mainline and the locomotives needed to be equipped with the onboard system, installing the computer, the receiver, and the control board. All this needed to be interfaced to our own control system again, and consequently many test runs were required to test its full and secure functionality.

After a few weeks, our commissioning team was complemented by two colleagues from our local subsidiary. Paulo and Ricardo lived around Lisbon and came by train to Entroncamento every morning.

Once we solved the most critical things, the locomotive had to be prepared for a high-speed test run in northern Portugal. The task was to reach a speed of 220 km/h with several passenger coaches which were prepared for this special event as well.

Sensors were installed all over and connected to a “control room” in the passenger coach right behind the locomotive. A camera was installed on the roof to observe and record the catenary and the pantograph at this high speed.

Several preliminary “approaching” test runs were launched... 140... 160... 180... 200 and finally 220 should be reached on a stretch somewhere south of Porto, next to the shore of the Atlantic Ocean, close to Aveiro. Unfortunately, not everyone of the team who worked so hard for this special day was allowed to be on the locomotive or the coaches, but eventually, the speed record for an electric locomotive in Portugal was broken and is still valid today, after 30 years!

Here and there teething problems occurred, forcing our team to work on extended shifts, sometimes late into the night, to make the locomotives available for the next day, for a new test run or for regular service.

For quite some time, one of our commissioning colleagues had to fine-tune the sanding system together with the anti-slip and -slide system of the locomotive. It was a challenging undertaking. For quite some time, it was working ok but then we had spurious problems again where it was difficult to find the root cause. After a thorough examination of the electric diagrams, our commissioning director made some calculations and said: “Gentlemen, this is an obvious thing! The earthing cable has not been dimensioned correctly! This tiny section we currently have in the drawing is definitely not sufficient. We need to put a cable with a bigger section.” I do not recall the dimensions anymore, however, after inserting a much bigger cable, the problem disappeared, and we finally had peace of mind.

During the summer, we measured temperatures of close to 60 °C inside the locomotive. In the small corridor in the centre of the locomotive, one oftentimes felt like being in a Finnish sauna.

Especially when we had to perform exchange works on the 60 kg thyristor modules, one can only imagine what we looked like afterwards. Sometimes, two of them had to be changed in a row because some “cosmic radiation” hit the thyristor and so the traction converter was put out of service and the locomotive lost 50% of its power.

While some days were like never ending disasters, the next days could be fantastic again, with very little to do... however, when you least expected, Fridays at 16 hs... and one wanted to go home after a long working week, a traction motor was broken... or an auxiliary converter... or a brake resistor... or a traction motor ventilator... or, at 16:15 hs, after a certain silence in the office for some time, my director had the brilliant idea... “Mr. Krüger, please call your wife and tell her that dinner today won’t be at 18 hs! Let’s go to the locomotive, we need to make some measurements on the intermediate power circuit, as I suspect there is something wrong, at least from the diagrams point-of-view it should be different! “Da hilft nix!” – there is nothing one can do! We need to fix that and report it to Germany!”

After one or two hours on the locomotive... all Portuguese colleagues already at home... only my director and I still working on a late Friday evening... I was not really amused about it, but I learned a lot during these times about accurate fault-finding, root-cause search, and eventual resolution of problems. It was a fantastic school would not have wanted to have missed for anything in the world.

At some time, our director’s wife also moved to Portugal for a sabbatical... and to our surprise these long Fridays were history... Today I can laugh about it and I still have a good relationship with him. He is 83 years old now, and I call him every year for birthday, then we talk for almost an hour and recall some stories from those times.

A great person with long years of experience making commissioning of vessels and submarines. Sometimes, on these silent afternoons on Fridays or so, he could become quite talkative and share a bit of his own experiences when commissioning missions were approaching him.

I recall one of them which I will never forget: He was once called by his superior, that same gentleman where I had the interview before I was assigned for this very job. “Please go to the harbour in Hamburg and go to vessel X for commissioning works. It will be on its way to South Korea! You will be back in about four or six weeks!” he said. “Okay, what about my car?”, my colleague replied. “Don’t worry, just leave it there at the harbour! You’ll be back soon!” He boarded the vessel... and there he went... Eventually, after 6 months he was back in Hamburg. The car was still waiting for him at the harbour. He then said to me: “Mr. Krüger, 4 weeks became 6 months! So don’t you think you will go back to Germany after 6 months! You will definitely be here for 3 years or longer!”

Hmm... I thought, if that is the case, I better get used to the idea sooner than later and adjust to this new reality. Make the best out of it and don’t count on going back early. And actually, I started to like this place.

After 6 months, I had to go back to Germany for a short training course, where I learned from the project manager and our commissioning department that I would get a permanent employment contract and could stay at the commissioning side in Portugal. At least until the end of delivery of the last locomotive plus an additional time of approximately 6 months, when most of the major issues should have been solved.

The first year almost came to an end, when at the beginning of December, a Friday morning, I was called into the office. I was asked to call to Finland. And the good news was brought to me that my first son had been born just a week ahead of time! Mother and child were doing well. Unfortunately, I did not make it to Finland in time, as my flight was booked exactly for that day. However, I was excited to quickly go to Lisbon and take a Swissair flight via Zürich to Helsinki. I arrived after midnight, where I was picked up for a long journey to eastern Finland. It was cold, snowing, and I was so tired, I almost fell asleep. In the morning, I rushed to the hospital to see the baby and mother. It was such a wonderful moment to hold this little creature in my arms. It was a gift from heaven for us parents and he still is this gift for all of us!

After a short break in Finland, we returned to Portugal as family, just before New Year’s. Somewhere, at the old docks of the port in Lisbon I had parked my car, hoping it was still there when we returned from Finland. And indeed, it was there. For the first time, we were going to our flat in Tomar as a family, where we had already prepared everything for our baby. A new life was about to start for all of us.

The period laying ahead of me I can retrospectively consider the best time of my life. The first two years were filled with lots of test runs, repairs, which sometime costed us quite some patience. But it was also rewarding to see that all these efforts were not in vain. Trust in our scope and service was re-established over and over again and when an issue was solved, all the noise, the dark clouds of complaint disappeared.

Colleagues from Germany, including the only female colleague in the software team, came over from time to time for performance improvements on the software for double traction, ATC (Automatic Train Control), modification here and there, slip and slide issues, introducing automatic couplers for heavy haul trains, and even more test runs were on the plan during those times.

On many days we only came home after midnight, oftentimes having started to work at eight in the morning or sometimes even earlier. I was young, we were young, and it was part of our commitment: To see our end customer satisfied with the highly sophisticated product he had just acquired.

Sometimes, it was very visible how nervous our local colleagues were, when some things were not working as expected or a potential serial fault was about to become a threat for our reputation. Then our German colleagues were even more nervous and the cultural differences became visible. What to do in such situations?

It was about to calming down spirits, and how could it be done best in a country with the best wine of the world? Invite all involved parties to the best local restaurant and have a wonderful dinner or lunch and fraternize as partners, as friends and mutually decide we will get through this together, no matter what it takes! Looking back, I recall one of the older gentlemen of our local colleagues who knew this very well and how this works in such situations. He repeated this very often. And to the younger project manager I sometimes said, when things got a bit stressful again: “Go and have a meal with them!”

Then, the training of the locomotive drivers started. At the beginning, there were only a few drivers qualified for this new locomotive. One was Pedro. He seemed to have fallen in love with this new locomotive and was the first trainer of many of his colleagues. We soon became friends when, one day on our test runs, he told me he was a beekeeper... I told him my father had kept bees as well, besides his missionary duties, when working in southern Brazil, but those bees had been African killer bees. Here in Portugal, however, bees were very peaceful. Pedro invited us for dinner to enjoy a good wine, and one day I accompanied him to harvest honey. What a fantastic experience after so many years. And, after the harvest, spinning the honey and eating it. Incomparable, unforgettable!

Pedro and a few other locomotive drivers were the ones who mostly ran the test drives we had to perform with the new locomotives in order to get the final validation, approval and eventually acceptance by the operator. During these test runs, I was for the first time confronted with a very sad part in the life of a locomotive driver, which most people probably are not even aware of: suicides on the railway tracks! It’s not only animals that are hit by a train, or sometimes people disobeying signalling at level crossings. I don’t remember for sure what was the triggering point to come to this subject, but I think it was the fact that one of the locomotive drivers or even Pedro was on leave. After asking what had happened, I was told he was on leave because there had been a suicide and in this case locomotive drivers get a “recovering” leave for some four weeks or so. Why so, I asked? Because this is a very stressful situation, killing a person unintentionally!

It certainly is and there is very little one can do, as it is impossible to bring a train to standstill within a few metres. Consequently, as sad as it is, the attempts for a suicide on railway tracks are almost always deadly.

To my mind it is a very unfair and egoistic action towards a person who is on one of the most peaceful jobs, trying to bring very often hundreds of people safely to their destinations, to their beloved ones. More than this, these suicides on tracks are directed at someone who is completely disconnected to their problems and has no relationship whatsoever to these individuals.

While I can very well understand there are people who may be so desperate suicide may seem to be the only option to get over a very demanding situation, I still am of the opinion that a suicide is not a solution for a problem in life, may it even be the most difficult. Therefore, I wish and hope, even more, I want to encourage, that anyone who is in a desperate moment of his or her life, would seek professional help as there are numerous possibilities to be treated and find new joy in life. After all, life is beautiful and is worth to be lived and should never be ended by a decision which can never be reversed.

While drivers were trained, also documentation for all the maintenance personnel had to be made available and they as well should receive training, not only on the mechanical and electrical or electronic components, but as well on the diagnostic software, fault analysis and the like. As I was the only one in our commissioning team speaking German and Portuguese, I was nominated to hold the training sessions for the maintenance personnel. My German colleagues presented in German language while I had to translate. This took quite some time, but after a few days of rehearsing it was again a new chapter in my career which soon made it easier to review the whole documentation, make suggestions of improvements, changes, etc. Eventually, the whole documentation was once again reworked in very close cooperation with the operator and the maintenance personnel, an affiliated company of the operator at the time. And, as a result, we had a very Portuguese Maintenance Manual in our hands. Based on this, I compiled a new dictionary for Portuguese-German railway related terms, which later helped me in many translations I would make for different projects in Portugal and Brazil.

One day, a locomotive came into the depot at a quite hot afternoon. The colleagues of the maintenance company had already informed us there was an issue on one of the traction converters. We were not really amused about it, but as soon as the locomotive was in, we checked the diagnostic records and yes… we had a problem. Two converter modules had failed and needed to be replaced. Luckily, we still had some spares on site and so the work began. Disconnecting all connectors, dismantling of all the power rails and eventually take out the about 60 kg heavy modules. This was not really a nice job, as the corridor in the locomotive is very narrow and the temperatures in summer are not really pleasant in this area. Anyway, the job had to be done. Finally, we got the new modules in and started the assembly of the power rails, putting back connector after connector and fixing all the screws tight. A last four eye check and then it was good to go. All doors of the traction converter were closed and locked, the locomotive unearthed, and battery switched on. A final check on the diagnostic computer, all seemed to be fine and error free. I lifted the pantograph to the catenary of 25 kV, waited a few seconds and switched on the main switch! “Baaaaaaaang!” And the locomotive was off in milliseconds. “What’s going on?” – thoughts were racing through my mind. We switched off everything, earthed the locomotive, unlocked the doors of the traction converter, opened them… and no… there it was! A few leftovers of the screwdriver I forgot on one Gate Unit. O man… I was shaking. About 80.000 German Marks destroyed, two hours of work for nothing… I went into the office and called Germany to inform the project manager about my mistake. I would have expected him to be very angry with me. He listened to me and then he said: “Mr. Krüger, a person who works makes mistakes! Please make sure this does not happen again! And let’s move on from here!”