A 16mm Péchot bogie wagon kit

Firstly, we apologise to our loyal customers. The 16mm Baldwin Gas Mechanical model has been delayed for unforeseen personal and technical reasons. We should have some available in the New Year. Apologies again.In the meantime here is a product which is available.

A Péchot bogie wagon kit is your invitation to join the 16mm club

16mm Wrightscale Péchot wagon kit made up. Courtesy MD Wright

You have bought a Wrightscale 16mm Péchot bogie wagon kit and are planning to convert it into a model. The humble original had an important place in the stoy of warfare. This means that you are making history and so you are part of something important. Once you have started creating this wagon, you have joined, if not a party, a movement. Craft is slow, gentle and thought-provoking. It allows you to focus on important issues. Best of all, it reminds you that there are other people out there who are having the same experiences.

Here are some thoughts about our experiences. When designing the kits, Malcolm immersed himself in the history. Where did the distinctive shape come from? Why does a simple push-me-pull-you shape actually contain so many asymmetries? It was part of a series. Why was this called the Péchot system? Why was it also called ‘artillerie 88’? Finally, does the Péchot wagon really matter?

Prosper Péchot (1849-1928) first wrote down his idea for a bogie ‘truck’ in 1882. He had clearly been thinking about it for a while beforehand. His Memorandum to the Ministry of 1882 was clearly very carefully thought out, with appendices and references to supporting work. This included experiments at the Decauville factory.

 This memorandum was his final thesis after his two years of study at Staff College 1880 to 82. It was generally accepted, even by his detractors, that it was a good, thorough piece of work. It was not welcomed at the Ministry, nor by the Génie – French equivalent of the Royal Engineers - because his ideas would cost a lot of money.

Prosper Péchot at retireent age. He has a Légion d'Honneur pinned to his chest. Photo courtesy Raymond Péchot

In the Memorandum, Péchot explained his theory snappily known as ‘the doctrine of multiplication of axles.’ As we know, the more points which support a load, the less each point has to carry. This is why 40-tonne lorries have all those extra axles – basically to save our roads. Unfortunately, all these extra wheels generate extra friction and so the lorries jack them up out of the way whenever the inspectors aren’t looking – and continue to make pot-holes. For a 19^th century French person looking for a way to carry heavy loads on earth or country roads, the friction was less of a problem. More axles were good.

The other part of the problem was how to ‘iron-clad’ bare earth or simple country paths. Prosper Péchot thought that one out too. In 1874-5, Paul Decauville of the Decauville Company started making his fortune with portable track and small carts to run along it. A cart running on light track laid on nothing more promising than muddy soil could carry 200 kilos. When they ran on rail, there was no problem transporting a load where it otherwise it was impossible to push a wheelbarrow. Péchot explored the Decauville ideas. He devised portable track which could support a mass of 3.5 tonnes per axle yes! fifteen times the tare of a Decauville buggy. In theory, just use more axles to carry ever greater mass. Four axles could support a theoretical mass of up to 14 tonnes. In practice, in order to support a 10-tonne wagon on light portable track, a bogie wagon was necessary.

This is a narrow bogie wagon built by Kerr, Stuart Ltd in the early 1890s. The design is symmetrical. Over in France, 10 years previously,  Péchot had shown that one side should not mirror the other. Illustration copyright MD Wright

Another innovation was needed. This was the way to link all these wonderful little axles together.  The bogie or ‘truck’ was already used on standard gauge. In places such as the USA and Festiniog Railway bogies were indeed already used on narrow gauge but they were fairly novel in France. Manufacturers such as Decauville were selling trains of small four-wheelers for use on their light agricultural and industrial railways. Péchot had to innovate here.

A sceptical Army expected to be convinced with the new portable track and bogie wagons but without having to pay for them. Paul Decauville helped out … for a while but by 1884, his patience wore thin. He was spending good money on innovation but receiving no orders in return. From late 1885, the Navy got interested. Then in 1886, the Press got on to the Army’s case. They believed that national security was being compromised. The French nation had paid out billions in today’s money building a string of forts to keep out any invaders. A new introduction, melinite, a precursor of TNT, made these forts obsolete. A dramatic artillery demonstration reduced a fort to rubble in an afternoon.

A typical late 19th century French fort was a hectare in extent, earth-sheltered and needed a garrison of around 600. A chain of them guarded the frontier. Photograph MD Wright

Something had to be done! What if you could move your guns out of the forts? Concealed in the woods and hills nearby, they could blast the enemy so vigorously that the fort itself never came within range. The Army turned back with relief to the ideas of Péchot. Trials in autumn-spring 1887-8 showed that a 60cm railway could rapidly be laid - taking guns out of a fort and up to a vantage for artillery, all in the space of a morning. The job could be done in time for lunch.  The nearest rival to 60cm, metre gauge, could not do this. The Ministry and the Press were convinced. The Army were obliged to follow their political masters.

In summer 1888, 60cm gauge was officially adopted and the 60 cm gauge wagon rolled out. Its official name was artillerie 88 because it was used by the French Artillery service and to mark the date of adoption.

This is the story of the Péchot plate-forme wagon and to us it is important. The more stories we share, the wider our common platform (so to speak). We should also like to argue that a Wrightscale kit offers you the precious gift of difficulty. In a fast-moving world, we need a little touch of slow.  Slick movementtends to drive us apart. Slow movement brings us together.

From instructions for Wrightscale 16mm scale Péchot 5 tonne bogie kit. Parts B and C may look the same but aren't, nor are E and G. Only one end gets N and make sure that Q is the right way up! Drawing courtesy MD Wright

The main difficulty for the model-maker is the lack of symmetry in what, at first glance, seems to be a regular and symmetrical object. You might think the bogie top would be a sort of box-lid. Beware! The bogie ends are not the same! The hangers used for fixing the axles are handed. The couplers are different. Even the safety chains are different and who could have thought that you could two sides to the same length of chain.

There were good reasons for these quirks and difficulties. As you work with them to create your model, you are joining the community of quirk and detail.

We can look more closely at what Péchot was trying to achieve. To create his platform wagon, he had made use of various technical fixes. Many were of his own devising; a number of patents were lodged in his name. The portable track might be laid on fairly rough ground. It often went round tight curves and tackled vertiginous slopes.  The standard 5 tonne bogie was at the heart of the system. It had to be able to carry 5 tonnes, balanced on a toy-like railway, often round the bend and up the wall, all without derailing. Strength had to be found in light-weight materials resulting from up-to-the minute technologies. 10mm steel plate was used, rolled and formed where necessary, steel castings where necessary. Many examples of this robust design have lasted to this day – over 120 years.

Battered, repurposed but serviceable, this Péchot wagon was over 100 years old when photographed. Courtesy MD Wright

At the bogie centre was a complex central casting that accepted the kingpin. This linked the bogie to the carrier above; sometimes a bolster, but more usually a ten tonne wagon body. The casting was held between steel plates and braced to the curved ends of the bogie by steel angle. The ends of these braces were fettled to steel angle that supported the bogie ends.

Another innovation was the draw-gear. Usually, a lightly made narrow gauge wagon would have draw-gear tacked to its end-plate. Péchot draw-gear was pivoted on the central casting through a shock-absorbing volute spring. The draw-gear could turn through a considerable radius – 45 degrees to each side of the centre line – without any sideways strain on the next linked bogie. Where bogies were simply linked through their ends, any sharp turn would risk derailing the next unit. This happened quite a lot on the Festiniog railway. As an intelligent ‘second adopter’ Péchot was determined to learn from their experience.

Besides having standard couplings, the draw-gear was equipped with side chains. This was typical of the belt and braces approach of Péchot design.

The bogie was not symmetrical, only having the compensated draw-gear at one end. The other, the tampon sec, also had draw-gear of a simpler sort which did not have the wide radius of ‘swing’. On occasion, the bogies were used as miniature wagons, pushed by hand. It was useful to make a train of them.

The bogie wheels also benefited from beautiful compensated springing. They could therefore ride out irregularities in height, those humps and bumps which were inevitable where track was roughly and hastily laid.

Best of all, each bogie had bevel-gear screw-brakes which operated on every wheel. The brake-wheel was located above the draw-gear standing well above the bogie platform and clear of the wagon. Alternatively, the brakes could be operated by a low-level handle if for some reason the brake-wheel had to be removed. During the First World War, simplified ‘Decauville 15’ bogie wagons were used; these had only one brake-wheel per wagon.

Wrightscale 16mm scale Péchot bogie wagon kit: stanchion. Seven were fitted per side and one at each end

Another thoughtful touch was found in the axle-box spring. As before mentioned, they were substantial affairs, part of a system of compensated springing. At the outer end of end was a substantial casting. Part of its job was to anchor the end of the spring. It also had a rectangular pocket, carefully orientated. This pocket exactly fitted a stanchion bar – the bars served two purposes. They normally secured the load to the wagon platform but one could also be used as a re-railing bar. Even a Péchot wagon might on occasion jump the track!

Wrightscale 16mm Péchot bogie kit. Back and front of the bogie turntable. The wagon body could rotate freely above.

The wagon body rested on the circular track visible on the bogie top, a sort of mini-turntable. Depending on the state of the track, the wagon body could pivot by means of rollers. The turntable-track was inward-tapere.

Although the Decauville Company had been working on wagon design for nearly twenty years, it took Péchot and his collaborators several years to perfect the design. By the summer of 1886, there were also six-wheeled bogies, each capable of carrying nine tonnes. By 1889, photographs show Péchot supervising Naval exercises where twelve-tonne (four-axle) bogies are in use. Imitation is the sincerist form of flattery. By 1889, the Germans had adopted 60cm gauge, producing their own bogie Brigadewagen and were well on their way to imitating the Péchot-Bourdon locomotive. During world war one, a system which its designer had seen as a weapon of attack had become an invaluable trench supply system for both Allies and Germans.

16mm Péchot bogie wagon made from a Wrightscale kit by Jim Hawkesworth. It is carrying a French gun of the period. Photo courtesy Jim Hawkesworth

The final question is a good one and one that craftivist should be happy to ask. Why bother? Aren’t there lots of other craft movements to join?

Everyone has a personal answer. You will have your own thoughts.

Here are ours. The Péchot system mattered a lot. It is an expression of France of the Belle Epoque, also an expression of individual genius. It is an innovation which had tremendous unintended consequences.

 

60cm and its part in ending the Great War

Armistice comes from two words – arms and stasis – ie the cessation of armed conflict.

The beginning of the end came for the Central Powers in September 1918. On the western front, they were being pushed back mile by mile, kilometre by kilometre but the retreat was in good order. They had carved themselves out an empire in Rumania and the western wheat-lands of what had been the Russian empire. The Allies, even backed by the AEF, could not knock the Germans out on the Western Front. It was on the forgotten south-eastern front that the greatest break-through of the war occurred.

A Bulgarian prisoner shows French and Serbian officers enemy positions below the beetling massif of Dobropolje on the Front Septmebr 1918. Drawing from Illustration courtesy MD Wright

After the disaster of Gallipolli, the Allies formed a new front in Greece. There was a certain logic. Firstly, there was the Serbian army. It had been crushed by Austria early in the War – the assassination of Franz Ferdinand had been the original cause of war. Their fighting forces had regrouped and would enthusiastically join any attempt to regain Serbian territory.

Secondly, Bulgaria joined the Central Powers, enticed by the prospect of new territory in conquered Serbia. The Allies in turn then persuaded Rumania to join them with the incentive of territory in Austria and Bulgaria. The idea of a front in northern Greece was to crush Bulgaria in a pincer movement – Rumania would attack from the north, the Allies with the Greeks from the south. Greece could be supplied from the Mediterranean. Greece had just fought a territorial war with Bulgaria in 1912/13 – it was bound to want to defend its gains. It was sure to join the Allies … wasn’t it?

As it was, the Greeks were reluctant allies. No doubt their stand was highly principled but they must have been influenced by events. At the time, the Allies seemed to be the losing side. In a few months between August 1916 and January 1917, the Germans and Bulgarians pretty well wiped out Rumania. This was an important gain – one of the few oil-fields of Europe and extensive agrarian lands. If the Greeks did not want to become a new Rumania, who could blame them?

That left a French, Serbian and British forces in north-east Greece. The British were to the east, looking across the marshes of the Struma river at the Bulgarians. They made much use of the port of Stavros on the eastern side of the Chalcedon (Khalkedoniki peninsula. The French and Serbians were based at Salonika (modern Thessaloniki) on the western side of this peninsula. Their front ran along the mountainous country between Greece and occupied Serbia (now the-former-Yugoslavian-republic of ?northern Macedonia). The front ran through Albania to the Adriatic. Though the Austrians were in nominal control of Serbia, Bulgarian troops and German advisers were in effect defenders of the whole of this Front.

Portable 60cm track designed by Prosper Pechot and manuafactured by the Decauville Company for the French Army. It could be laid and re-laid quickly. Illustration courtesyJim Hawkesworth

60cm narrow gauge proved vital. Previous entries in this blog have described the importance of the Péchot system/feldbahn/War Department Light Railways for supply duing World War 1. At the time, there was almost no other way to supply an army when it was at a distance from a standard gauge railway or canalised rivers. It was cruelty to use animals, motor transport was just developing and modern air supply a futuristic dream.  Portable narrow gauge track had been developed; an ‘iron road’ could be quickly laid and used by wagons and locomotives.  In 36 days, a 27 km line was constructed between Salonika and the French front.

A number of narrow gauge lines were laid around the military base at Salonica – 40 km (25 miles) at least on the French side alone. The British had to build a light railway right across the Chalcedon Peninsula to connect the two ports. Railways were built for supply, training, hospitals and repair shops.

In the early months, General Sarrail was C-in-C of French forces but he was gradually sidelined by Franchet-d’Esperey, later made Maréchal de France. 

This photo shows a 60cm railway at work behand British lines. It was the only way to take massive shells to the Front. Photo courtesy Roy Link

Once the armies were ascending the mountains, portable railways proved even more useful. Over the next couple of years, the French and Serbs gained ground from the enemy. As the defenders pulled back, they of course destroyed the railways – vital for communication in these mountainous parts. Standard guage track could be re-laid relatively quickly, but the Bulgermans destroyed all bridges and viaducts – of which there were many. It was hard to supply soldiers, let alone the artillery. In the rough country above 2000m (6000+ feet) a mule could carry 2 shells on a two-day journey between railhead and guns.

If the enemy thought that they could stop the French and Serbs, they were mistaken. A railway was pushed through the Krasradere valley, off the Vardar river, in five months. A single train could carry 25 tonnes of ammunition and the guns roared once more. We should note that, under normal conditions, a 60cm gauge train could carry 40 tonnes of supplies. The Péchot system was very versatile.

Monastir (modern Bitola) was an important objective. The standard gauge line had been thoroughly demolished, not least the Ekchisu viaduct – 360m lone and 30m high at the centre (400 yards by nearly 100’). As a quick fix, a 60cm railway was installed. It descended the ravine then climbed painfully up the other side – but it succeded in supplying the army for several months.

The Monastir front was supplied by other 60cm lines, most important of which was the one running westward, towards the beetling massif of Kukuruz (Kozjak). An offensive was planned for the second week of September 1918. The objective was the small town of Rozden and, if all went well, the valley of the Crna river.

French officers inspect a captured Bulgarian strongpoint (casino) September 1918. Magnificent in his kepi, General Franchet d'Esperey stands to the left of the group.From ' Illustration' courtesy MD Wright

The line was still heavily defended. The Bulgarians had the best of German technology and siege-works at their disposal. On the other hand, the Germans had thinned out this Front to shore up the Western Front.

They attacked on 15^th September, and broke the Bulgarian line. Between the 15^th and 21^st September, the French and Serbian army penetrated the line to a depth of 65 km (40 miles). Even better, they had captured a couple of standard gauge railways. Now they were really motoring (so to speak). By September 30^th, they were into the flatlands, with Bulgaria within reach. At this point, the British finally broke out of the lower Struma valley and pushed into the heart of Bulgaria.

There were exciting and heart-breaking scenes. Overhead, the young French airforce flew sorties. Bulgarian troops were caught in the narrow valleys. Excited Serbs raced at last towards Belgrade and home. The British caught an army at the Rupel pass. German advisers, well aware of the dangers of breaking rank, could be seen urgig the Bulgarians back to defensible positions.

Even more important were the politics. On September 25^th, a representative of Bulgarian commander-in-chief appeared before the parliament in Sofia to put the case for an armistice. It took until the 29^th for a ‘field’ armistice to be signed between the Bulgarians and General Franchet d’Esperey and rather longer for him to rein in his over-enthusiastic allies. On October 4^th, Tsar Ferdinand of Bulgaria abdicated in favour of his son Boris who was left with the task of official peace-making. A few days later, Allied forces occupied strategic points within Bulgaria.

Crown Prince Boris of Bulgaria was given the delicate task of concluding peace with the Allies. He preferred to approach Franchet d'Esperey rather than the British or Serbs. Photo courtesy MD Wright

A huge gap had been made in the Central Power enclave. Turkey was virtually cut off. Allied forces could strike up the Danube valley. Germany and Austria had lost their Ukrainian and Russian breadbaskets. The war was unwinnable.

Until events in Bulgaria, German High Command continued to maintain that ‘there is no ground for doubting our victory.’ As before mentioned, German troops were gradually retreating on the Western Front, but they were far from defeated, even by the might of the AEF. On the afternoon of 28^th September, a grey-faced General Ludendorff made his way to the office of Marshal Hindenburg where he informed him that an armistice should be concluded immediately. (Edmond Taylor, quoting from contemporary diaries The Fossil Monarchies pp 426/7)

On September  29^th, they informed the Kaiser. His reply was reputed to be ‘You could have told me all this a fortnight ago’. Like Tsar Ferdinand of Bulgaria, their aim was to conclude the war a/ by manoeuvring to make someone else to take the blame b/ by appealing to the friendliest person available. The objective of reining in the senseless slaughter seemed to be a distant third.

Prince Max of Baden was therefore summoned and more or less ordered to ‘make no difficulty’ for the German High Command. With commendable haste, he and his new government (which included Socialist leaders) got together a message by 4^th October. This was delivered to President Wilson of the USA, bypassing the other Allies. Wilson’s reply was not delivered until 14^th October and this was more about destruction of arbitrary power than about an armistice. In the end, it was not until November 8^th that a German armistice commission met with Marshal Foch – French – in a railway carriage at Compiègne. There an armistice was signed and 11^th November agreed for the cessation of hostilities.

A series of events triggered by the fall of Bulgaria led to the general armistice. Bulgaria was lost because of a small breach in its defences. This breach was made possible through good communications among the Allies. 

The Pechot-Bourdon locomotive was an emblem of French military 60cm railways. It was under a Pechot Bourdon  badge that Franchet d'Esperey made his 1932 speech. Illustration courtesy Raymond Duton

16mm portable railways were vital to these communications. General Franchet d’Esperey was well aware of this: ‘in a pathless country, we relied on Narrow Gauge for our victuals, munitions, evacuation of the wounded and for all our general needs.’ (Speech given at Toul in 1932)