Fiction

Tool or Die

Written by Karen Bergstralh

Late January, 1632

Martin Schmidt walked briskly down the Tech Center hallway, his mind full of plans. The thread rolling machine was working well and he was eager to take the next step and build a drop forge.

A drop forge needed a source of power to raise the ram. The thread-rolling machine used a salvaged electric motor and the up-time machinists Martin had consulted all agreed that his drop forge would need another electric motor. Unfortunately, electric motors were very useful—so useful that finding a salvaged one that worked had become nearly impossible. The previous day Herr Don McConnell had given Martin the names of some people at the Tech Center and suggested that they might know of a suitable motor.

Excited yells and cheers distracted Martin. Under and around the cheers he heard an odd chuffing noise. The Tech Center was full of wonders and Martin couldn't resist looking in to see what this one was.

On the floor at the front of the classroom a small steam engine cheerfully chugged away. Attached to the little engine was a windlass device and the rope from that stretched across the classroom. At the room's far end sat a little red steel wagon with two large male students shakily perched on top. An elderly man bent over the steam engine and the windlass began to wind up.

To Martin's amazement the wagon started to move. It didn't move very fast but, once started, it and its load rolled steadily along. The students standing around cheered, clapped, and yelled comments to the two riding the little wagon. Most were begging to be the next to ride. The American steam engine man appeared delighted to show his toy off.

The thought struck Martin that if such a small engine could pull two men maybe a larger one could raise the ram of a drop forge. He moved forward as eagerly as the students did, questions bubbling in his mind. Neither Martin's English nor the elderly American's German proved up to the discussion that ensued. By appealing to several of the Tech Center's teachers, both sides finally managed to communicate. The steam engine man called in some others and the discussion continued until a second elderly American finally smiled.

"You're right, a small steam engine should work. I . . . we've . . ." He nodded at the steam engine man. ". . . got a good idea of just the type and size you need. Heck, I've got most of the parts in my basement and I know which of the steamheads have the rest." His eyes twinkling, the elderly man grinned. "It'll be a fun job for us old farts, too."

One of the Tech Center teachers spoke up then, "Can you do the work up here at the Center? We need to capture your knowledge . . ."

"Sure, we could, son," snorted the old man. "but my basement workshop's set up for steam and the parts are there. Send over anyone you want; just let my wife know how many are coming."

The Tech Center teachers seemed confident so Martin took a leap of faith and commissioned a steam engine. He didn't know exactly what manner of steam engine he had just commissioned but if he had understood the steamheads correctly there were other machines the engine could power, too. He asked and the steam engine man replied.

"Son, you can run a whole machine shop off a steam engine. My grandfather's shop ran off steam. My father didn't electrify the shop until 1942."

Martin was confused until one of those interpreting added, "That was probably a good twenty years after electricity and electric motors were available. Lots of machine shops were powered by a steam engine. Changing to electric motors took money and some people didn't see a reason to change."

Martin's hopes flared. The biggest problem in replicating up-time machines was how to power them. Here was an answer. Given a steam engine he would be able to build lathes and mills and . . . Martin gave himself a mental shake. There would be time enough for those thoughts once the drop forge was built and running. Machines needed gears and with a drop forge he could produce gears. Lots of gears.

February, 1632

The up-timers, Herr Reardon and Herr McConnell, worked with him designing and building the drop forge. It was crude compared to the sleek up-time machines but, as Herr McConnell put it, "You can frigging well pretty up the next frigging one."

As the parts of the drop forge came together Martin realized that he had a problem. The hardened steel punches and dies the forge needed were costly and there weren't enough funds left after paying for the rest of the drop forge. He knew that Kudzu Werke's blacksmith shop was doing well but he'd been happy to let Herman handle the financial end. Drop forges were useless without proper dies. Packing up drawings and his list he went to Herr Glauber to ask for money.

Herman Glauber listened carefully while Martin went into detail on which punches and dies were the most important. When Martin was finished speaking, Glauber solemnly asked, "How much will cost to buy all the dies and punches for the parts you intend to make?"

Swallowing hard, Martin named a sum that equaled two good years' wages.

"Ah, Martin. " Glauber smiled. "So much? Well, things are going well. Your fiddly little nuts and bolts sell well and the reclining chair is starting to sell, also. I have money here—just a bit of extra cash, mind you." Glauber reached into his pocket and pulled out some bills. He carefully counted them, folded them over and dropped the wad into Martin's hands. "Top quality work—that's what I expect from Herr Reardon. Be certain you get the best set of punches and dies you can from him." Glauber then excused himself and hurried off, leaving a stunned Martin counting out enough American dollars to buy the full set of punches and dies.

And so, in March, with snow still on the ground, all the parts of the drop forge came together. A group of up-timers, most of them elderly, arrived with the steam engine. For the next two weeks there always seemed to be at least two or three of the 'steamheads' around fussing over the new engine. Several people from the Tech Center floated around, sketching, scribbling, and otherwise recording the steam engine's installation.

Martin insisted, much to the steamheads' delight, that all of the boys be instructed on the care and feeding of the engine. None of the boys had objected and other shops' apprentices often stood around watching, envy written clearly on their faces.

Herr McConnell made a point of coming by everyday, commenting, suggesting and helping when the pieces didn't want to fit together. Finally they had produced their first forged parts to the applause of Herr Reardon, Herr McConnell, all the steamheads, and two Tech Center teachers. When the cheering died down everyone headed off to the Gardens for a celebration. Herr Reardon pulled Martin aside.

"Most of the damned thing looks like it came out of the Middle Ages. It's crude and ugly but it works. " He paused and looked back at the drop forge. "The next one you make will be better."

April, 1632

Karl Ritterhof grunted in satisfaction. "Okay, Hans, this is how the firebox should look." Stepping back, Karl let the smaller apprentice peer past him.

"A picture of perfection, Karl. As usual." Hans Gehrt gestured back toward the Kudzu Werke building. "Too bad we won't need steam much longer. They've only got a couple of more blanks left."

A heavy thump and a brief shaking of the ground came from the building beside the boys. Kudzu Werke's new drop forge was making its presence known.

"And you know this because Master Schmidt has taken to confiding in you?"

"I've got eyes," Hans grinned, "Besides Max and Carl-Maria were yelling about the steel shipment being short as well as late. Master Schmidt's gone up to the steel works to complain."

"We do have other work. Jakob will be wanting to run more of his rulers."

"Ha! Jakob's not wanting to do anything but go to the Gardens with Heinrich. Rudy's going with them. Besides, Bertha said they've got a month's supply of blank rulers that need etching and painting."

"Tsk, tsk!" Karl stood straight, towering a head above the younger boy. He struggled to assume a stern look. "Remember your place, Apprentice Gehrt. Journeymen Ohl and Tausch may allow you familiarity but you must address Fraulein Klepsch properly."

Hans grinned slyly. "Which Fraulein Klepsch should I be so formal with? Elise who teases me when I'm cleaning flashing from ruler blanks? Or Bertha who gives me apples and sticky buns because she thinks I'm too skinny?"

Karl tried to think of a suitable retort on the way back into the shop.

***

Journeymen Max Ohl stood to one side and watched Jakob Betche direct the other apprentices. The boy had come a long way from the gangly, shy refugee child of six months ago. Frau Kunze's good food and work at the forge had transformed Jakob. Max realized that the boy had put inches on along with muscle and weight.

Something must have shown on Max's face because Jakob paused.

"Sir, did I forget something?" Jakob asked.

"No, Jakob. Everything is in order. Go on," Max replied.

"Come on, Jakob." Heinrich Glauber called cheerfully. "Hurry up or there won't be any good tables left."

"Yeah," Rudy Neder chimed in. "We don't want to be stuck sitting with a bunch of mommas and little kids."

Max coughed. There wasn't much he could do to rein in Heinrich's enthusiasm. The boy wasn't one of Master Schmidt's apprentices or journeymen and he was the son of the owner of Kudzu Werke. Rudy, however, was a different matter.

"Keep your mind on your work, Rudy. " Max waved at the drop forge. "This must be done correctly."

Rudy's grin faded a little and he turned back to check the steel blank he was heating.

Heinrich took the hint, too, and slid off the workbench he had been sitting on.

Rolf Ackermann prodded Rudy. "The color's right. The blank is ready."

Max coughed again and Rolf looked at him.

"This is Jakob's lesson, Rolf." Max said. "I know that you have already mastered this. I want to see how well Jakob understands."

"Yes, sir."

Carl-Maria Tausch grinned at Rolf. "Let the boys do the dirty work, Rolf. We men have better things to do. " He leaned easily against a bench with his arms folded.

Rolf smiled and copied the older journeyman's pose.

Jakob stepped over to the forge and looked through the heat shimmer at the steel blank. He stepped back and he grabbed the drop forge's drive belt lever. All signs of humor left the young blacksmith's face and he carefully nudged the drive belt onto the pulley. With a groan the drop forge's ram rose. With equal care Jakob set the drop lever and disengaged the drive belt.

"Rudy," Jakob called, "bring the blank."

Rudy fished the white-hot bolt blank out of the forge's fire with a pair of long tongs. He placed the blank on the drop forge's die plate and stepped back. Jakob took the tongs from Rudy and poked fussily at the blank. Satisfied, he also stepped back.

"Everybody clear?" Jakob asked.

Each blacksmith answered, "Clear."

Max held his breath and waited. Herr Reardon and Herr McConnell had stressed one last step for "safety." Jakob reached for the drop lever and hesitated. He turned away and walked once around the drop forge, checking that everyone was standing well back from it. When he reached the drop lever he glanced around again and called out, "Dropping!"

KATHUNK! The floor shook as the ram dropped. Tools lying on workbenches jumped and added their clinks and clanks. A carelessly placed bar clattered on the floor.

Jakob re-engaged the drive belt pulley and the ram groaned upward again. Setting the drop lever, Jakob waved theatrically at the exposed die. Left behind in the die was the newly forged bolt blank.

"Wow!" Heinrich yelled. "That's great! And so fast! Can you do more than one ...