Police Memories

by Bill Williams

  It was no mean responsibility to be a police officer in a village such as Hafod or any similar. Populated by, some few business folks and their employees, Farmers and their workers but, mainly coal miners.

  These men worked hard in dark dusty conditions, they were a close community, had nicknames for each other but there were occasionally friction, which eventually the local “Copper” was required to deal with and normally on his own.

  At weekends the miners were free to follow their own lives away from the colliery. There was the local football team, which played on a field donated by Tommy Lewis.

  In wartime there was the Home Guard of which many miners were members. Some poached fish, rabbits and others game. If out walking and on finding a hen’s nest outside a farm, they would take the eggs to supplement the one a month ration allocation. They often concealed the bounty inside their cap.

  Looking back thought Claude, “it had been strange as a boy to be on a walk with his father to see miners meeting and often patting each other on the head, it would not be until years later he was told the story of eggs.”

  The other main entertainment was Billiards, Snooker and Social evenings all held in the local Miners Welfare Institute also the home of the village band of which Harry Friendly was a member. Finally but not least, miners often spent their time in the local pub and it was there any friction came to the fore. There was a local phrase, “The Beer is talking or Beer in sense out.”

  Claude recalled the village constable of that time, Police Constable Jack George; a very “Smart” man, he was a well-built, tall man, about 6 feet 4 inches in height. An ex Guardsman having seen action during the First World War. He had joined the police service, as did several of his brothers at the end of the Great War. When the next war arrived he was due to retire but was directed to continue to serve as many of the current serving police officers were called or recalled to the colours in one of the armed forces.

  For years after, during his childhood into adulthood Claude often saw Mr George as everyone referred to him as he walked or rode his pedal cycle around the village.

  Mr George was well respected and during later years of all the police officers that had served locally, people always recalled Mr George who stood above all others not only in stature but also in respect. Claude thought how his own father had much respect for Mr George and advised Claude to follow his example if and when he joined the police force as it was then referred to.

  Harry Friendly always said. “Look at Mr George, nearly 70 years old and walks as straight as a die.”

  Claude sitting at his computer, recalled and was about to write down several stories of the exploits of PC George but first, he thought of one that might give the reader a flavour of the times and the attitude of local people.

  During the war, miners met in a hut for Home Guard training. In the early years they had no weapons, later they were issued with firearms but no ammunition until finally they were fully armed.

  One evening during a training session having been fully equipped for some time certain members became frustrated at making no use of any weapon issued; there was rumour of German infiltrators. There was a commotion outside the hut one evening, the miners panicked, one picked up a machine gun went outside and pulled the trigger, rapid fire from the weapon resulted in the road outside being torn up. The local Police were not required being war time the matter was covered up as a military incident.

  In the village of Hafod there was at that time a camp, originally built to house German and Italian prisoners of war and later used to house men of East European origin. According to Harry Friendly these men had served in the German army and when the Communists took over in their Country after the war had finished such men were executed if they returned to their Homeland.

  One day Claude was walking with his father along the private railway line near the camp, it was used to transport coal from the mine to the main line of the commercial rail company later British Rail.

  PC George walked passed them at a brisk pace. He then stopped, took off his cap leaving it on the ground indicating to Harry to stay silent, he then proceeded to creep along a ditch. Harry told Claude to stay silent and they watched as the scene unfolded. There were several men by a gate and a lady.

  It was years later; his father recounted the incident near the camp.

  “You were too young to understand but this is what it was all about.”

  “In those days being absent from work unless one was ill was frowned upon and the offender would get into trouble, often someone from the colliery visited the home of the missing worker to check the reason for the absence.”

  “A miner who worked the afternoon shift from 2 pm until 10pm was told his wife was visiting the camp whilst he was at work and to quote a phrase “Carrying on with foreigners.”

  “Being unable to investigate or take any action himself he had visited and spoken with Constable George, who assured him he would put matters to right.”

  “On the day in question the woman was standing at the gate a man was at her side several others were standing around her, but inside the camp, two were sitting on the gate. They were kissing and more with the lady.”

  “PC George creeping along the ditch stood up when he reached the group. He hit both the men sitting on the gate knocking them off, and the others ran off into the camp.”

  “The man standing by the woman took the opportunity to run off and in our direction, as he ran passed he shouted in pigeon (broken) English.

  “Do not tell Mr George which way I go.”

  “After the men had disappeared, Constable George grabbed the woman, put a foot up on one of the gate bars, bent her over his knee and smacked her bare bottom. Once her summary punishment was completed she ran off in the direction of the village. PC George arrived, picked up his cap, said Good day, walked off and then also disappeared in the direction of the village.”

  “On another occasion Claude and his mother were attending a family function in the Miners Institute. There was no alcohol served at such functions in those days. When the village pub closed at 10pm the men left and arrived at the miner’s family gathering. Claude recalled he was playing pass the parcel when there was shouting. This disturbance stopped proceedings, and on looking up there were two American servicemen the worse for drink. One pulled off his tunic and was shouting and swearing the other soldier was attempting to calm him down. They moved into the hall, which was now silent save for the obnoxious American who was offering to fight any takers. The man in charge of the function attempted to calm the man by telling him Pc George had been called. It was a lie but by coincidence Pc George arrived and was standing at door with folded arms. As the American continued to shout and swing in the direction of those present he called “Bring on your village policeman.”

  “Constable George moved into action. Walking across the floor he said nothing but grabbed the soldier by the rear of his trousers and his shirt collar then frog marched him outside. Arriving at the fence he lifted up the offender and threw him over the fence onto the road.”

  He then shouted, “If you were a real soldier I wouldn’t have had to throw you out, if you still think you are one call to me and I will come round to you.”

  Both Americans ran off in the direction of Wales towards their base.

  Claude was interested in these accounts and so asked his father if there were more, Harry smiled “there are many, I will tell you of just two more.”

  Food rationing in force, food was hard to come by, one miner went drinking on a Saturday night and on his way from the pub called at the home of his parents. They were in bed when the prodigal son banged on the door demanding entry. To avoid a disturbance he was permitted inside. He demanded cooked food and his mother explained to him they had none to give. He threatened his father causing distress and food was found but the couple were left short for themselves.

  One day Mrs George was speaking with the couple when the mother broke down. Mrs George assured them
she would speak with her husband.

  Two weeks later a Monday, the son failed to arrive at work and so he did all that week. The next Monday he arrived for his shift and was asked about his absence, had he got into trouble? He informed his work mates he had not for he had been sick. He then confessed that on the Saturday night two weeks ago he had been the worse for drink and as usual had called at the home of his parents, demanding entry and food. His mother opened the door and he entered. Once inside he had demanded a cooked meal, when told there was nothing he had banged the table. He then went silent. The miners gathered around asked him what happened next.

  “I remember banging table and seeing Pc George coming from behind the door. I was in hospital for two days and recovering the remainder of the week.”

  “Did you ever have any confrontation with Pc George, father,” asked Claude.

  “Just the once,” replied his father “We had been drinking and on the way home were outside some houses and in full view of the road we were all passing water in a line. Pc George arrived out of the shadows and spoke to us.”

  “Well lads you know you are not supposed to do this here, if I report you, there will be a fine, you can’t pay it and your parents can’t afford to either. I will deal with you myself.”

  With that he walked along the line striking each one of us across the back of the legs hard, with his walking stick.

  Chapter 7

  Claude had commenced school at the age of five years although he did not realise it at the time he was following his father and grandparents and all the other members of that side of his family. His peers were mostly miner’s children some from farming families and the odd child from other backgrounds. The odd few from the more well to do families attended a private school in the nearby town.

  The school had been built during the mid 1800s at the time when a law was introduced enforcing compulsory full time education for all. The then local Lord of the Manor Viscount Muckston sponsored the cost of building the school. Claude’s Grandparents, he was later to discover were among the first pupils to attend. He had since checked the school records, which confirmed this. It seemed strange to Claude that he should see the names of his grandparents and father entered as children.

  One entry took his attention that of his name sake Claude Friendly entered in the register but with a remark from the then head Master who wrote as Claude’s leaving comment “Cowboy.” This had indicated he was one who must have played up.

  Some five years later the boy was dead, killed when a starting pistol he was handling exploded although containing only a blank cartridge the black powder from the emission had infected a hand and he subsequently died from what was then referred to as “Lock Jaw,” Tetanus as it is now known.

  Whilst a serving police officer Claude had checked the records, discovering details of the case of his namesake. How strange it was to view the Coroners report from the year 1929 reading the hand written statements taken by the investigating Officer, the wording format being identical to that used by Claude and other officers in the 1960`s.

  This memory then caused him to think how his father had often spoken of the loss of his brother and in particular had said how the family was so poor they couldn’t afford a hearse to transport the coffin so it had been carried through the village on the shoulders of teams of men. After the funeral however, as the family had been leaving the graveside the gravedigger arrived and began to fill in the grave. He was throwing large stones onto the coffin.

  Tom Friendly had returned to the scene and said to the gravedigger, “What do you think you are burying here, a dog.” Taking the shovel he had buried his son himself.

  Such events were not in the mind of this Claude Friendly on his first day at school. He still recalled his mother taking him to school that first day and then the loss and loneliness he had felt when he discovered she had gone.

  During the 1950s the war over, things began to change, Constable George retired but remained in the police house, it was a Council owned property rented by the police.

  A new police station was built and a new officer posted to reside in it. The officer’s son attended the school and became pals with Claude who often visited the small police station to play with the policeman’s son. Claude recalled how strange it was to have a close up view of a policeman in his uniform without being in some sort of trouble. The officer’s son, recalled Claude, also became a police officer and served near to but not with Claude many years later.

  Life in the village of Hafod was probably no different to most other rural villages and towns of that era.

  There were, for instance, no people of colour or mixed race. During his childhood the only coloured person Claude saw was the occasional man who appeared in the village going from door to door attempting to sell goods from a suitcase. He wore a strange item on his head and his appearance caused local children to follow him around the village during his visit. Claude once asked such a man what the funny hat was to which he received the reply “A Turban.”

  Claude had been left none the wiser. The sellers were renowned for saying to householders who did not wish to purchase any clothing from within the suitcase, “You give me tick punce for lucky charm. Translated as give me an old sixpenny piece” for a lucky charm.

  Harry Friendly had told one such seller that on a previous visit he had bought such a charm and the following week had been injured in the mine so would never buy another.

  The reader may consider miners working in such danger and conditions were superstitious and this would be a fair assumption.

  In the village of Hafod there lived a lady of Gypsy origins, in fact the mother of the boy who was with Harry’s brother when he was shot. She resided on the outskirts of the village and had a tame Magpie and she had taught it to say certain words. Being harassed by local children she often said to them “Go back you wicked child.”

  A miner cycling to work from a nearby village had not known of the bird. One day travelling to work the bird had flown at him and he was flabbergasted to hear the words “Go Back you wicked children.” He did just that. When he eventually arrived at work the next day, when asked to account for his previous absence had said he thought a disaster in the mine was looming and added, “ When the bloody birds tell you to go back its time to go back.”

  Ignorance or rather it would be fairer to say lack of knowledge of ethnic communities was not based on hate or discrimination but due to the fact in small rural communities, at a time when hardly anyone owned a vehicle, transport was on foot, cycle or the local bus which were limited in number. Residents had gone from generation to generation living among the same families. The communities remained more or less fixed in number and ethnic make up, i.e. all white. There were some additional folk in Hafod, some of the East European men who had been in the camp were officially known as displaced persons. Some remained and married local girls, even a German.

  Claude recalled no hostility but in a place where most families invariably had a nickname some unkind, for example “Tay Ta Nose, “Potato Nose” for the man who was unfortunate enough to have a lump on the side of his nose or Sammy Treacle, because he often had black treacle on his sandwiches at work. The New Comers were not exempted; the German was known as Fritz the German others by status such as Eric DP.

  Claude thought how when he himself was in school aged under 11 years the class had been told of events in history. He recalled no occasion when anything had been said of people from foreign lands or of any race that was in any way racial hate or preached segregation or white is better than black or brown. But now in old age in the current climate of equality and prosecutions for such conduct especially in sport, he recalled how in those times some teachings may well have influenced the attitudes of at least some pupils who in later life would become police officers, nurses and similar.

  He recalled some questions in an end of the week test in those days nothing unusual was thought of them but in modern times such a thing in school or else
where would not only not be tolerated but were bound to get the offender prosecuted.

  Question: “What is the name of a young swan?”

  Answer: “Cygnet.”

  Question: “What is the name for a black baby?”

  Answer: “Piccaninny.”

  Question: “What is the name of the only Regiment in the British Army the members of which can eat in the British canteen?”

  Answer: “The Gurkhas.”

  He recalled how the only persons locally who had travelled widely in the United Kingdom and oversees were ex servicemen. They recalled on returning home how when fighting overseas they fought according to rules were as the “Foreigners” did not.

  An example quoted was foreign troops putting up their hands to surrender and when approaching British soldiers to be taken prisoner they produced and threw a hand Grenade. This and other stories were reflected at village football matches when it was common practice to shout at players from the opposing team who made a foul.

  “Play the white man.”

  A school teacher lost his job for recently quoting the saying, and example of how things have changed.

  Another local saying in his youth but also in 2010 stemmed from the talk from returning veterans who related how black men always carried out the heavy labouring work or dirty jobs the army required done but were lazy especially in the heat of the day. He was working in his garden when the lady next door aged 96 years old arrived at her door and called, “Come in for a drink Claude you have been working like a black.”

  A neighbour chimed in by saying “Why, have you ever seen a black working?”

  One ex veteran waiting his turn in the dentist Surgery had commented to fellow patients that he was sure black people had white teeth due to them eating raw meat. He knew this after seeing people doing so in Africa whilst he was serving there.