1650 A Tiny Tale: How the Long Island Railroad Foiled a Nazi Terror Plot.
“Tiny Tales” was a predecessor to Wessays™ and was discontinued in 1990. But every once in awhile, one previously unpublished or -- as now -- new surfaces.
Inspired by real events, this story is a work of fiction.
It was June of 1942 in the early hours of the morning when the German U-boat edged close to the south shore of Long Island. The landing party made its way to the beach in the predawn darkness, half a dozen members of the Master Race and an expendable token with brown hair and brown eyes.
Slowly, they traveled on foot to the Long Island Railroad station at Amagansett, schedules in hand. The westbound train was due in eight minutes. It would take them to Penn Station in Manhattan where they’d carry out what the Abwehr described as “small acts of terrorism.”
Eight minutes later, no train. Ten minutes later, no train. 30 minutes later, a train at last. The Germans were apoplectic. Where they came from, punctuality was next to godliness.
“Equipment troubles,” explained the patient old conductor.
The Third Reichers fell asleep in their seats as the train rumbled toward the city.
“Babylon!” called the old conductor, awakening the terrorists. “Last and final station stop on this train. This is Babylon. All change here for trains to Jamaica, New York Penn Station and Atlantic Avenue, Brooklyn.”
The terrorists goosestepped off the train in line, and waited at track 2 which was empty. The public address system comes on: “Attention passengers. Due to switch trouble at Harold Interlocking, trains to New York are delayed 15 to 20 minutes. We apologize for the inconvenience.”
“Fritz, what do we do? We’re already very late,” the expendable brown haired, brown eyed token asks.
“My name is FRED. F.R.E.D. Fred. Do not call me Fritz again. I am Fred from Amma… uh… Ammo… uh, the Long Island.”
Eventually the train arrives and when the Ach du Liebermen get to Manhattan, they head for the nearest open deli, buy a quart bottle each of Schaefer (sounds like Germany, tastes like diluted horse pee,) empty them into a convenient sewer and head for the nearest filling station, where they intended to fill each with gasoline.
In 1942, there still were visible gas stations not too far west of 8th Avenue and these Freds from The Long Island had counterfeit ration coupons.
As it turned out, their train conductor -- who drove to work that day -- pulled into the Flying A at the same time, noticed what was going on and called the cops.
Had it not been for the train delays and then the observant conductor all those Nazi bombs would have been set off that morning in midtown.
So when your train is delayed and you fume, remember that a time honored tradition of the railroad’s inability to read a clock may some day save you from some flying glass from “...the one beer to have when you’re having more than one.”
I’m Wes Richards. My opinions are my own but you’re willcommen to them. ®
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