The Good Shepherd. Chapter Two

It took over two hours to negotiate the road down the mountain. At times the old truck in front of Joe would stop, reverse back and take a run at a particularly large snow drift. The truck was slipping and sliding beneath Joe, but he maintained control, using all his years of experience. Just as Joe was beginning to give up hope of ever reaching safety, a faint glow of street lights appeared in the distance.

The trucks pulled into the truck stop yard. Joe swung his truck into a parking space then looked around for his saviour, but without even stopping for Joe to thank him, the Good Samaritan had disappeared. Joe was disappointed, he really wanted to shake the man by the hand, buy him a hot coffee and a full breakfast, but no mind, he was sure they would know who he was in the truck stop, and Joe could leave the price of a meal for him behind the bar.

Grabbing his kit and locking the doors, Joe ran as fast as he was able across the deep snow towards the café door. He entered to find the place empty apart from an old man sitting behind the counter reading a paperback book and looking extremely bored. He looked up as Joe entered.

“Well what do you know? I wasn’t expecting anyone to make it this far on a night like this” said the old man in a friendly, welcoming voice.

“I nearly didn’t” replied Joe. “Any chance of a hot drink and something to eat? What about a room, my night heaters packed up, and I don’t want to freeze out there!”

“Coffees on, and I can do you a full English if you’re really hungry, and we got no one staying here at the moment, so you can pick your own room” answered the old man. “Names Jimmy by the way”

“Joe” replied Joe. “Could I get a shower while you’re fixing breakfast?”

“Sure Joe, right through that door there” he said, pointing to the door on the left.

Fifteen minutes later, clean, warm and refreshed, Joe came back to the café. Jimmy was waiting for him with a large plate of fried breakfast and a steaming mug of coffee.

“Here you go fella” said jimmy. “Didn’t think the main road was open tonight, pretty bad out there”

“ I nearly didn’t make it, came over the top of the mountain, if it hadn’t have been for that old snow plough coming along and pulling me out of the drifts, I’d still be up there freezing myself to death” Said Joe.

“You came over the top?” asked Jimmy with more than a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Yep said Joe. “ I got stuck in a pothole when I took a wrong turn, then my night heater packed up, I have to say, I was getting a little worried. Then this old guy in an ancient Austin appeared from out of nowhere and rescued me. Do you know him? I would sure like to buy him full English and a hot mug of tea.”

“Did this truck have any markings? What did the guy look like?” replied jimmy quizzically.

“The truck was immaculate, bright shining green colour, with W SHEPHERD TRACTION LTD painted in gold on the doors. The guy was old, late 60’s I’d say, wearing a lumberjack type shirt, dungarees, and a flat hat and fur lined boots”

“That sounds like old bill shepherd, local hero and a fantastic boss; I worked for bill for many years. If you don’t mind listening to the ramblings of an old man, I’ll join you while you eat and tell you the story of Bill Shepherd.”

“Sure” said Joe. “Don’t think I will be moving for a day or two”

Joe sat down and started to eat, as jimmy began the tale of Bill Shepherd.

“Bill Shepherd was a local hero, friend to all and enemy to none. Bill lied about his age, and at 14 joined the army. He was sent to serve in France for the last few months of the war in 1918, where he won the military medal for bravery after crawling into No Man’s Land to drag his commanding officer to safety. He was wounded in action, and was sent to the rear where he was taught to drive, and saw out the end of the war resupplying the front line. When he returned home to the valley he was one of only three survivors out of twenty four men that signed up to serve king and country. Bill bought with him an ex-army truck which he used to haul timber over the mountain from the lumber mill, down to the capital, and bring back supplies and anything that people were prepared to pay him to carry. Now remember that the motorway was only built twenty years ago, so in them days it was over the mountain or in the winter a two day journey around the head of the valley.  Bill would do anything to help out. If you needed something moved he would move it. In the winter he would drive around the valley roads keeping them open for the farmers and village folk.

Between the wars he built up a nice little business, running lumber down the valley, and when war broke out again, he would carry supplies to the newly built Naval Station on the coast. Of course, Bill was one of the first in line to volunteer for the army, but because of his wound from the last war, he was deemed medically unfit for service. That didn’t stop Bill from enhancing his reputation as a hero. He became a stalwart of the mountain rescue teams that were frequently called out to rescue air crews who failed to make it back to their base, and won another medal for climbing down a 200 feet cliff to rescue a pilot trapped in the wreckage of his fighter. It didn’t matter to Bill that the pilot was German; he had a respect for human life, possibly from seeing the carnage of the trenches in 1918 that wouldn’t allow him to turn his back on anyone I need of help.

It was after the war that I first got to know Bill well. I left school in 1940 and was called up into the army. I served in the desert, in Italy and was in the D day landing in Normandy. Like Bill, the army taught me to drive, so when I returned home in 47, it was only natural for me to approach Bill for a job. Bill was happy to use me; I would do the runs down to the capital, while Bill would keep himself local. We still had the problems with the winter snow on the mountain passes, but the work kept coming in, and in 1959 Bill invested in his first ever Brand New trucks, having always used second hand stuff before. Two bright green Austin 10 tonners with gold lettering. Bill stuck with the name Traction Ltd for sentimental reasons while other firms were using haulage or transport. Bill loved those trucks; he spent every spare minute polishing his, and would inspect mine at every opportunity, keeping me on my toes.

Now you look old enough to remember the winter of 63. Worst winter of the century, the valley was snowed in for weeks, the mountain pass was closed for a couple of months and the lowland route was almost impassable. I got caught out on the other side of the mountain. It took me three days to get back, and remember, we had no night heaters, not even a bunk, only a sleeping bag and sleep with the gear stick digging in your ribs, but there are enough people who were willing to open their doors for me to overnight in.

Now while I was struggling to get back, bill was playing the hero again. It started snowing really hard one lunch time. The school mistress, Mrs Thompson, decided to close school early and called Reg Riddiford, the school bus driver to collect the kids and take them home to the villages up the valley.  Everything seemed ok until, around 4 o’clock, Mrs Tiley, from the crossroads Post Office called Mrs Thompson to ask what time her daughter left school as she hadn’t arrived home yet. Checking with one or two of the other families in the village, Mrs Tiley realised that the school bus had not arrived in the village, so she called Constable Barrow.

Bob ‘wheels’ Barrow called Bill and the two of them set off following the bus route. Bill had the snow plough blade and wheel chains on the truck but even so, the weather had made the roads almost impassable. It was nearly two hours before they found the bus stuck in a drift. Reg had managed to keep the children from getting too upset; he knew that Bill would be along sooner or later. Between the three men they managed to dig the bus out of the drift, and with the Austin pulling the bus, they were able to get to the crossroad, where George Clark, a local farmer, was waiting with his tractor and trailer to take the kids on up the valley and home.

Constable Barrow and Reg Riddiford returned down the valley to the town in the school bus before the road closed up again, but Bill decided to clear some of the roads further up the mountain, there were a few isolated farms that might need supplies later in the week

. It was two days before Bill was missed. I returned from my epic journey around the head of the valley, and was surprised to see that the local roads were covered in snow, and that Bills truck was nowhere to be seen. I called Bob Barrow who told me about the school bus and about Bill going further up the mountain to clear the roads. I took the spare plough, chained up my wheels and set off with John Childs and Bob Mills, two of the mountain rescue team, to try and find Bill. It was the truck that we spotted first, what was left of it. It was lying smashed to bits at the bottom of a ravine about two thirds of the way to the top of the mountain. It took us another hour to reach where it had gone off the cliff, it was then we spotted Bill propped against a boulder.”

The old man paused in his story to offer Joe a refill of Tea. Joe pushed his plate to one side, took a long draw on his tea and let out a contented sigh.

“That’s quite a story” said Joe. “I would really like to meet this guy and shake him by the hand. Did he restore his old truck or keep yours in such good condition? He must have some luck to survive two days alone on the side of a mountain in winter”

The old man looked at Joe. “No” he said. “You don’t understand. When we found him he was frozen solid. How long he held out up there we will never know, but Bill died that night up on the mountain. I stayed on working for his widow, managing the business until she died a few years later. The other Austin was scrapped years ago. I don’t know for sure what you saw up there tonight young man, all I know is that you have a guardian Angel watching over you, and knew that the only one who could save you was Good old Bill shepherd”