If the name means nothing to you, the cover is a giveaway: Mallard is a railway locomotive – but not just any old loco.

Mallard is probably the best known of the locomotives designed by the great engineer Sir Nigel Gresley and his team, and owes its fame to a remarkable run at 126mph in 1938, setting a world record for steam traction that stands to this day.

‘Mallard: How the ‘Blue Streak’ Broke the World Speed Record’ (The History Press, £12.99, ISBN 978 0 7509 9151 3) describes the competition between railway companies to achieve ever higher speeds, beginning in the 19th century and gaining new impetus in the 1920s, before gaining national political significance in the 1930s in the face of competition from France and, particularly, Nazi Germany.

Clearly, author Don Hale has written for a niche market of people interested in railway history, but for people in that category (including this reviewer), it’s a well-written account that captures the imagination and includes some telling details – such as the significant roles played by a thumbprint and a stink bomb. You’ll have to read it to find out more.

Primarily, though, ‘Mallard’ is the story of Gresley himself, with the eponymous locomotive only appearing when we reach the tenth of 13 chapters. Born in 1876, Gresley was the son of a Derbyshire clergyman. At school he won a science prize and showed an aptitude for carpentry, and at the age of 17 he was taken on as a premium apprentice with the London & North Western Railway Company in Crewe, where he trained as a mechanical engineer.

We follow Gresley’s story as he moves rapidly up the career ladder. By March 1905, at the age of 28, he achieved a senior post in the Great Northern Railway’s Doncaster works as subordinate to the chief mechanical engineer, Henry Ivatt, stepping into the top job when Ivatt retired in 1911. He soon made his mark with new locomotive designs for passenger and heavy freight trains, before the First World War forced the Doncaster works to switch to manufacturing armaments.

Gresley’s first post-war innovation was a three-cylinder freight locomotive, which was more powerful than the usual two-cylinder arrangement. Then he moved on to an express passenger design (called a Pacific because it was larger than the Ivatt-designed Atlantics), the first of which, the A1 ‘Great Northern’, was completed in 1922.

At this time, the railway business was going through one of its many politically driven reorganisations, amalgamating over 100 railway companies into just four. In 1923 the GNR was absorbed into the London and North Eastern Railway Company, a change that saw Gresley beating rivals for the post of chief engineer and moving to LNER’s London base at King’s Cross.

Over the following 15 years he continued to oversee new locomotive designs, including the A3 Pacific class – based on the A1 but with a number of modifications that improved performance and reduced coal use.

Hale takes us through these years in a historical narrative, covering Gresley’s other innovations – such as the corridor tender that made it possible to change crew on the move – as well as developments elsewhere in Britain and overseas. Gresley kept up with these by attending international railway conferences and visiting facilities in France and Germany – both of which were working on high-speed diesel trains at this time. He was also in regular contact with the Italian designer Ettore Bugatti, who was applying aerodynamic theory and wind-tunnel testing to produce a series of streamlined high-speed railcars for the French network.

The book devotes quite a lot of space to technical and political developments in Germany, where railway innovations could be used to help restore national pride – and industrial capability – after the humiliations that followed its defeat in the First World War. In 1932 the streamlined Fliegende Hamburger achieved 124mph on test, and when the public service was launched the following year the new Nazi government made good use of its propaganda possibilities.

LNER considered introducing similar trains, but concluded that they could not provide a faster service on the existing infrastructure (sounds familiar?). Gresley seized his opportunity to push for investment in updated Pacifics. In 1935 he secured permission to build the first four of a new A4 class of streamlined locomotives, along with luxury coaches, for the launch of a ‘Silver Jubilee’ express service between London and Newcastle – but with just five months to complete the work. Nevertheless, he and his team strove to incorporate all the latest improvements into the design.

On 27 September 1935 LNER laid on a demonstration run for press and VIPs, to show off the capabilities of the new train. The driver and fireman played their part, but noted that the speed recorder appeared to stick at 90mph. They were right – the A4 Silver Link achieved a new British speed record of 112.5mph at two separate locations.

However, LNER didn’t have a monopoly on speed. Germany had just achieved a world steam record of 200.4km/h (124.5mph), and in June 1937 LMS took the British crown when the Stanier-designed Coronation reached 114mph.

Meanwhile, Gresley was overseeing a new batch of A4 Pacifics, to be named after British birds, starting with Mallard. These were fitted with a state-of-the-art double chimney and blastpipe and new Westinghouse QSA brake valves – brake innovation was essential as trains became faster and heavier. The streamlining had also been refined to prevent smoke obscuring the driver’s view.

It’s at this point that Don Hale switches from historical narrative to adventure story, gradually building up tension towards the conclusion we all know is coming. I won’t throw in any spoilers, but Mallard emerged from the Doncaster works in March 1938 in a garter-blue livery, and performed well in trials, proving to be “beautiful, powerful and highly functional”. It was tempting to have a shot at retaking the speed record. Plans were laid in secret, with the attempt to be made as a follow-on to trials of the new Westinghouse vacuum brake system. Mallard was to haul the train, incorporating a dynamometer car, and Gresley handpicked the crew: driver Joe Duddington and fireman Tommy Bray.

On 3 July the train headed north from London and the brakes were tested at various locations so the stopping distances could be recorded. After a late lunch at Barkston in Lincolnshire, the return journey began, but things didn’t start well. There was Sunday engineering work on the track, with a temporary speed restriction of 15mph through Grantham, but after that Duddington began to accelerate, going over Stoke summit at 85mph ready for the downward run. First the LNER record was beaten, then that of the LMS, 120mph was passed – and then the world record was Mallard’s, as was its place in history.

Of course, that’s not the end of Mallard’s story, but the coming years saw wartime service in blackout livery, followed by a transfer from LNER to the nationalised British Railways and eventual withdrawal from service in 1963 – though with the benefit of a preservation order.

The original version of this book concluded with Mallard’s life in preservation. The History Press edition adds a final chapter telling the story of the 2013 ‘Great Gathering’ of surviving A4s at the National Railway Museum in York, marking the 75th anniversary of the speed record, complete with many photographs taken by the author. I can testify to how much interest the event attracted, because I saw the crowds for myself, and Mallard continues to be a star attraction at the museum.

If the name means nothing to you, the cover is a giveaway: Mallard is a railway locomotive – but not just any old loco.

Mallard is probably the best known of the locomotives designed by the great engineer Sir Nigel Gresley and his team, and owes its fame to a remarkable run at 126mph in 1938, setting a world record for steam traction that stands to this day.

‘Mallard: How the ‘Blue Streak’ Broke the World Speed Record’ (The History Press, £12.99, ISBN 978 0 7509 9151 3) describes the competition between railway companies to achieve ever higher speeds, beginning in the 19th century and gaining new impetus in the 1920s, before gaining national political significance in the 1930s in the face of competition from France and, particularly, Nazi Germany.

Clearly, author Don Hale has written for a niche market of people interested in railway history, but for people in that category (including this reviewer), it’s a well-written account that captures the imagination and includes some telling details – such as the significant roles played by a thumbprint and a stink bomb. You’ll have to read it to find out more.

Primarily, though, ‘Mallard’ is the story of Gresley himself, with the eponymous locomotive only appearing when we reach the tenth of 13 chapters. Born in 1876, Gresley was the son of a Derbyshire clergyman. At school he won a science prize and showed an aptitude for carpentry, and at the age of 17 he was taken on as a premium apprentice with the London & North Western Railway Company in Crewe, where he trained as a mechanical engineer.

We follow Gresley’s story as he moves rapidly up the career ladder. By March 1905, at the age of 28, he achieved a senior post in the Great Northern Railway’s Doncaster works as subordinate to the chief mechanical engineer, Henry Ivatt, stepping into the top job when Ivatt retired in 1911. He soon made his mark with new locomotive designs for passenger and heavy freight trains, before the First World War forced the Doncaster works to switch to manufacturing armaments.

Gresley’s first post-war innovation was a three-cylinder freight locomotive, which was more powerful than the usual two-cylinder arrangement. Then he moved on to an express passenger design (called a Pacific because it was larger than the Ivatt-designed Atlantics), the first of which, the A1 ‘Great Northern’, was completed in 1922.

At this time, the railway business was going through one of its many politically driven reorganisations, amalgamating over 100 railway companies into just four. In 1923 the GNR was absorbed into the London and North Eastern Railway Company, a change that saw Gresley beating rivals for the post of chief engineer and moving to LNER’s London base at King’s Cross.

Over the following 15 years he continued to oversee new locomotive designs, including the A3 Pacific class – based on the A1 but with a number of modifications that improved performance and reduced coal use.

Hale takes us through these years in a historical narrative, covering Gresley’s other innovations – such as the corridor tender that made it possible to change crew on the move – as well as developments elsewhere in Britain and overseas. Gresley kept up with these by attending international railway conferences and visiting facilities in France and Germany – both of which were working on high-speed diesel trains at this time. He was also in regular contact with the Italian designer Ettore Bugatti, who was applying aerodynamic theory and wind-tunnel testing to produce a series of streamlined high-speed railcars for the French network.

The book devotes quite a lot of space to technical and political developments in Germany, where railway innovations could be used to help restore national pride – and industrial capability – after the humiliations that followed its defeat in the First World War. In 1932 the streamlined Fliegende Hamburger achieved 124mph on test, and when the public service was launched the following year the new Nazi government made good use of its propaganda possibilities.

LNER considered introducing similar trains, but concluded that they could not provide a faster service on the existing infrastructure (sounds familiar?). Gresley seized his opportunity to push for investment in updated Pacifics. In 1935 he secured permission to build the first four of a new A4 class of streamlined locomotives, along with luxury coaches, for the launch of a ‘Silver Jubilee’ express service between London and Newcastle – but with just five months to complete the work. Nevertheless, he and his team strove to incorporate all the latest improvements into the design.

On 27 September 1935 LNER laid on a demonstration run for press and VIPs, to show off the capabilities of the new train. The driver and fireman played their part, but noted that the speed recorder appeared to stick at 90mph. They were right – the A4 Silver Link achieved a new British speed record of 112.5mph at two separate locations.

However, LNER didn’t have a monopoly on speed. Germany had just achieved a world steam record of 200.4km/h (124.5mph), and in June 1937 LMS took the British crown when the Stanier-designed Coronation reached 114mph.

Meanwhile, Gresley was overseeing a new batch of A4 Pacifics, to be named after British birds, starting with Mallard. These were fitted with a state-of-the-art double chimney and blastpipe and new Westinghouse QSA brake valves – brake innovation was essential as trains became faster and heavier. The streamlining had also been refined to prevent smoke obscuring the driver’s view.

It’s at this point that Don Hale switches from historical narrative to adventure story, gradually building up tension towards the conclusion we all know is coming. I won’t throw in any spoilers, but Mallard emerged from the Doncaster works in March 1938 in a garter-blue livery, and performed well in trials, proving to be “beautiful, powerful and highly functional”. It was tempting to have a shot at retaking the speed record. Plans were laid in secret, with the attempt to be made as a follow-on to trials of the new Westinghouse vacuum brake system. Mallard was to haul the train, incorporating a dynamometer car, and Gresley handpicked the crew: driver Joe Duddington and fireman Tommy Bray.

On 3 July the train headed north from London and the brakes were tested at various locations so the stopping distances could be recorded. After a late lunch at Barkston in Lincolnshire, the return journey began, but things didn’t start well. There was Sunday engineering work on the track, with a temporary speed restriction of 15mph through Grantham, but after that Duddington began to accelerate, going over Stoke summit at 85mph ready for the downward run. First the LNER record was beaten, then that of the LMS, 120mph was passed – and then the world record was Mallard’s, as was its place in history.

Of course, that’s not the end of Mallard’s story, but the coming years saw wartime service in blackout livery, followed by a transfer from LNER to the nationalised British Railways and eventual withdrawal from service in 1963 – though with the benefit of a preservation order.

The original version of this book concluded with Mallard’s life in preservation. The History Press edition adds a final chapter telling the story of the 2013 ‘Great Gathering’ of surviving A4s at the National Railway Museum in York, marking the 75th anniversary of the speed record, complete with many photographs taken by the author. I can testify to how much interest the event attracted, because I saw the crowds for myself, and Mallard continues to be a star attraction at the museum.