My brother found a book at a train show and bought it for me. The book is titled
Ghost Rails X - Iron Phantoms (Wayne A. Cole)
Aliquippa and Southern Railroad
Jones and Laughlin Steel Operations
Within this book, I discovered photos of the coke batteries upon which I worked in the early 80’s. In the first photo, you can see the quench car (gondola-like) being pushed/pulled by the loco (electric). I ran one of three of these locos on the very track seen in the photo.
As coke was pushed out of the coke oven through the rack (movable to each oven), as seen in the second photo, the loco man (me) would “catch” the coke by moving the quench car to spread the red-hot coke as evenly as possible along the length of the quench car. The goal was to avoid high piles that were difficult to extinguish.
After the catch, you raced the car down to the quenching tower (far end of the track in the first photo), where 8,000 gallons of water were dumped on the car in hopes of putting out all the fire. After that, you raced back to the wharf (about midway on the right side of the track in the first photo) and opened the three gates on the car (three air levers) to dump the coke on the wharf. Any fire resulted in the "wharf man" using a water hose to put it out before he could “one by one” open three-foot-wide gates to drop the coke onto the rubber belt. He did not like fire, and many obscenities were shouted if you dropped fire.
Then you raced back to the coke oven to line up on the next oven. While you were gone, the coke side doorman and the pusher side pusher man were replacing doors on the oven just pushed, moving to the next oven, removing doors, and lining up the rack for the next push. As a locoman, you wanted to be there when they were ready, but if you had a high pile on the last catch that needed double quenching, they waited. Through the communication network, you knew when they were unhappy you were taking too long. As a team, the goal was to “in concert” obtain as many pushes per shift as possible, hopefully more than the other shifts. On my first days, I held them up so badly that I parked the loco and crawled off it and up on the bench. I was met by Bill Emerson (the boss) and told him he needed to put the veteran back on, or he was not going to get his coke. He yelled at me to get back on that loco and keep catching.
The loco had three communication systems: one intercom and two radios. These were used to communicate with:
1. The doorman and pusher man.
2. The other locos on the track.
3. The general shift foreman (the boss).
In the winter, when it was cold, there was so much steam that you could go an entire shift without seeing another loco, but you learned to communicate to know who needed to be where and when, and all others stayed out of the way.
The scary part was when you overshot that catch (i.e., more coke was coming, but you moved the car too fast) and then the loco was under the rack being covered with the red-hot coke while you were inside. Hot coke on the loco catwalks blocked both doors and covered the roof. While you were cooking inside, you raced a short distance down the track (out from under the catcher rack) and called for help, and they started spraying you with water hoses and digging you out.
Many thanks to some of the ole timers there who kept me safe