I took my pistol, braced myself, and aimed for the larger head. Bang! There was a rustling noise.“You hit him, not kill him,” Philip said.“Mebbe...die soon,” Cook added.We walked over. I could see some blood. Philip bent down and looked at the ground.“You hit ‘im bit low. Mebbe neck. He not movin’ quick. We walk left.”We did. Philip stopped again and held up a hand. We heard noises, including hissing, grunting and coughing. “Him dying. Wait.”We did. There was another cough.“You got flashlight?” I. We did see the scale of the process as they remotely tipped an entire rail wagon of iron ore into one of the hoppers, and we could see the volume of freshly-made coke coming over on the conveyor belt, still steaming and stinking of sulphur.Lunch was a hot meal in a subsidised canteen; for the princely sum of twenty pence I had pie and chips, a steamed treacle pudding and custard, and three cups of tea from the biggest teapot I had ever seen. No wonder the turnover of the workforce was so. More

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