Police Memories

by Bill Williams

  “Not falling,” replied the make believe Matron.

  “No, the other things,” replied the lady now distressed.

  Claude realised immediately what she meant, and that his presence was becoming embarrassing. He was surprised the conversation or rather consultation was taking place in such a public place on such a topic.

  He attempted to rise but as he did so the lady in the chair immediately by him touched his shoulder and spoke to him and said “I know you, I have seen you round here quite a bit I did fancy you when I first saw you but I see Miss Prim has an eye for you." She began to laugh and clap her hands.

  Claude asked. “How old are you?”

  “I am ninety eight,” she said “You are just a spring chicken my boy.”

  The conversation was an ideal diversion having turned the attention of those present away from the poor old soul in distress.

  The lady in blue stood up, patted her consultation client or resident and said, “Don’t worry they will look after you, everything will be alright.”

  With that she turned and as she did so Claude saw her badge,

  “Head Nurse.”

  There was nothing else, no name or qualification S.R.N or S.E.A.N initials, in brief for State Registered Nurse or State Enrolled Nurse respectively. The now disappearing nurse in blue made no further comment and walked away.

  The client began to smile and within seconds the group was back talking. The lady with half cleaned fingernails was still looking lonely and sad.

  Claude stood picked up his stool and went over and sat by “The old dear.”

  “Hello,” said Claude “How are you today?”

  The lady looked up but didn’t reply. Claude who had seen the lady before but knew nothing about her she was wearing a wedding ring.

  He then said to her “I knew your husband.”

  The lady looked up smiled and said, “You did, and a very good man he was.”

  “More than a good man,” replied Claude “I would say he was a gentleman and you madam a lady with him."

  The lady smiled then laughed and repeated, “Yes he was gentleman, how kind of you to say and of me as well, thank you.”

  “I have two nice daughters to, you know.”

  “So I believe,” replied Claude, “and very nice ladies they are.”

  The lady pointed her finger then repeatedly bent it indicating for Claude to move closer which he did.

  She then whispered, “They are good girls except for one thing, putting me in here. I realise their position, but putting me in here.” She then slowly shook her head, how so very sad he knew the feeling.

  “There is something,” said Claude, “at least you have someone to look after you all the time, Oh here is Miss Ling to finish your nails.”

  The lady laughed so Claude moved away permitting the nail renovation work to continue.

  He sat for a while and then he heard a voice call him he was too slow to see whom it was, save that it was one the group he had just moved away from.

  The voice said, “You are writing a book about the Police I once had two policemen meeting outside my house they were riding bikes then.”

  Taking the plunge Claude sat then related several stories from his book those involving the welsh policemen and the man who smacked the bottom of the lady at the camp.

  There were loud laughs when one lady called you made our afternoon you will have to tell us more; hey we will buy your book.

  Claude laughed but wondered if he might be banned for a male care worker he had not seen before came to look what the commotion was.

  The meal bell rang and so Claude joined the steady flow when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He stopped and turned, it was a lady obviously a visitor, she said.

  “Excuse me I was sitting near you, I over heard you speaking with that lady telling her about her husband, my mother is here I come frequently. In all the time I have been coming that is the first time I ever saw that lady smile or laugh. Then you told those stories they really enjoyed them. I don’t know you but thank you I hope to see you again, keep up the good work.” She was gone before Claude could reply.

  As he walked on it did give him an idea for the future. For now he thought time to dine.

  When he arrived in his room and climbed into bed that night he felt a large degree of satisfaction at the events and comments made.

  He did feel a little sorry for the lack of privacy and consideration afforded to the poor soul who mistakenly believed her bodily functional accidents were as a result of moving to another “Block.”

  He was himself well over seventy and on drifting into the "Land of nod" he knew where the lady was coming from, it wouldn’t be long before he was up and in a haze, making a desperate bid to reach the toilet in time.

  The following morning he rose at 7am he had no need to peer through the window for he could hear the lashing rain against the window. Might as well spend another day tapping on the typewriter he thought.

  Having dressed and breakfasted he returned to his room and spent the day, “Being constructive” as the home entertainments officer would say.

  His typing machine at the ready he looked down hesitated and thought, “Still no need for a bucket of water, I have improved a little but not that much.”

  "Right, now," he thought, "Where was I? Ah yes, the training centre still, here we go, hope I can remember.”

  The days at the Police Training Centre followed a similar pattern, rising, stripping the bed; neatly fold the sheets and blankets of which he would soon become an expert, as was good old Ron. Then finally shave, wash or shower, dress, breakfast parade, lessons study.

  Parade meant the dreaded drill sergeant, oh dear yes it was it seemed necessary for policeman to be clean smart and tidy. Day two it was time for the classes of course 385 to report to the parade ground for their first instruction in the art of drill or marching.

  He recalled that first such lesson, forming up outside the class room then looking across at the building outside of which was the flag.

  It was just being raised by a student seemingly a transgressor to get the job. The door opened and the “Drill master” appeared, stopping momentarily on the top step. He looked about him, put on his cap, walked down the three steps put the pace stick under his bent arm and then holding and gripping the stick under the arm pit with his hand grasping the end.

  He stepped forward and began to march he had travelled only three paces when he stopped turned stamped his right foot heavily on the floor and gazed under his cap looking up at the flag and then at the flag raiser and balled “You, that man there, are you in distress man.”

  The student with a gasp said, “No Sergeant.”

  “Why the hell then are you flying the nation’s flag upside down attempting to cause fear and despondency are we?"

  “No Sergeant,” came the response.

  “You wooden headed clown put it right man” was the next response from Mr Drill.

  The student hastily pulled down the flag, took it off the rope and replaced it. Claude thought, he couldn’t see the difference, heavens I am 19 years old I had no idea there was a right or wrong way to fly the Union flag.

  The “Master Marcher” continued to the group, stopped and said fall in you lot.

  Then he blurted “Attention, by the right quick march.”

  The column of classes for the whole of that course followed him, finally arriving on the parade square. The classes were turned and lined up facing the main building.

  Sergeant Thomas was a tall man, his bearing was definitely that of a military man and from what Claude had seen on the television on the Queens Birthday Parade he was for sure an ex Guards man. His uniform and boots were immaculate he could not be faulted. That is, his standard thought Claude, immaculate was the only word to describe it. The new comers were soon to find the same standard would be expected of them.

  The first of the drill sessions was about to commence.

  All lined up standing at attent
ion the students waited as “Mr Immaculate” walked slowly along the line looking closely at each petrified body from top to bottom and back again.

  Arriving at one man the examiner stopped and said, “Collar, your collar is not clean on.”

  He then bellowed, “Uniform shirts have loose collars, the rule is, clean collar every morning, lunch and feeding time, you will have sweated, therefore the second half of the day, another clean collar do I make myself clear.”

  There was a loud, “Yes Sergeant.”

  “You,” he shouted, now referring to the offender “Pace stick cleaning and flag rising for one week. Report to my quarters at 7am, daily, including Sunday.”

  “Yes Sergeant,” came the reply followed by a sigh as it would be an early rising for a whole week.”

  He continued along the lines eventually stopping at another victim, “Am I hurting you at all?” he screamed.

  “No replied the next victim,” by this stage the whole course felt like victims.

  “I bloody well should be I am standing on your hair, you lot report to the barber 8pm en-block.”

  There was a loud “Yes Sergeant.”

  The next order was “Parade, turn to the right in threes and by column a route,” he hesitated.

  Loud marching music commenced from the tower at the side of the parade ground.

  “Quick march was the next order and off the course marched forming three columns of the three classes. Sergeant Thomas marching at the side. When nearing the end of the designated area he balled left wheel and the column turned left.

  He was now calling out the steps, Left right, left right but changed to his obvious military call of “Wets, white, wets white.”

  Marching at the side of the columns he turned so that he himself was walking backwards continuing his instruction “Wets white, Wets white.” He then noticed a policewoman out of step so to exhibit his wrath he began to walk right at her side bent down and bawled into her ear.

  “If you don’t keep in step I will stick this pace stick up your arse and march you round like a human lollipop.”

  The lady never did master the art of marching and so received much adverse attention there is a slang name for her treatment.

  “A lot of stick”

  On another occasion he bellowed at her, again close up in her ear, “You, if you don’t keep in step I will stick this pace stick up your arse until it comes out or your head like a pair of horns.”

  Looking back thought Claude the lady being one of only two women in the class of twenty recruits had constant attention but in fairness she never faltered, never complained just got on with it still kept marching and in doing so put each leg and same arm and hand forward in unison, it did look rather comical he thought.

  The session continued the drill sergeant found many other complaints and frequently called to an offender. Not knowing individuals by name so as they had different uniforms particularly helmet badges he used this as a means of identifying the offender he would call “That Staffordshire man or that Worcester City man.”

  Saluting thought Claude the time spent in achieving the art of saluting, the longest way up and the shortest way down had said Mr Drill Master. The counting by numbers to achieve it, one to three up, steady right arm at an angle of 90 degrees thumb tight against the closed fingers, and then one two and straight down arm remaining at the side the body being straight at attention. This practice was carried out in the police service just as it was in any of Her Majesty’s Forces. All officers of and above the rank of Inspector were entitled to a salute when in full uniform. If inside and not wearing headgear, it was simply stand to attention and a yes or no Sir.

  How Sergeant Thomas had reeled off those entitled to a salute not being police officers, amongst them were officers of Her Majesty’s Forces, Her Majesty’s high court judges and coroners. Passing funeral corteges were to be saluted by officers of the rank of Inspector and above, officers below that rank were to stop and stand to attention.

  Visits to the hairdresser known as “The Barber” in those days was in fact made as part of the course for they were known as parades. Each class attended on a rota at the given time, the room where the event took place was soon filled and the corridor outside. The cost was fixed and paid by each recruit; likewise each victim had the same style best summed by Drill Sergeant Ray Thomas who often made an appearance.

  On arrival he would issue a reminder to the Barber, “All off the top and none on the sides.”

  One recruit failed to attend on one occasion after which an investigation was made the following morning. After the formalities of muster parade had finished, the class was told to “Stand Fast.”

  A check of the class lines by Sergeant Thomas stopped when one officer was told to remove his helmet it could be seen he had already cut his own hair, it was short.

  Upon this revelation Sergeant Thomas simply said “Put your Tidfa (helmet) on” and he continued as normal.

  It was not until the next haircut parade that he would seek his revenge on the recruit who had presumed to buck the system.

  The Barber attended as normal and hair cutting was soon well under way. Sgt Thomas arrived and stood silent for some minutes, when the recruit in the chair had finished Sergeant Thomas bellowed.

  “Garth you are next” and Constable Phillips duly stood and was seated. Sgt Thomas whispered into the ear of the Barber then stood back observing the operation. The Barber put away his scissors and comb then fitted a different blade to the electric hair cutters then starting at the forehead and simply cut over the top and down to the back of the victims head reaching his neck. It took only moments for Phillips to have a head not of hair but a shining skull.

  As he rose from the seat Sgt Thomas spoke to him he simply said, “Smart arse eh.”

  The message to Phillips and all present was quite clear.

  Each week there were self defence lessons undertaken by another ex military man with years of experience training soldiers, Sergeant Ron Pullen was the very man. He appeared to be in his middle thirties about five feet eight inches tall, the minimum for a police officer in those days. He was as might be expected very slim and obviously an agile man. His facial features gave all recruits the impression he was not one to be given any “Aggravation.” For his square face was well matched to his nose and ears which had all the hallmarks of a man who had spent a considerable amount of time in the boxing ring. Although small he had a loud and deep voice and his instructions were easily understood.

  The training sessions were as one might expect, floor exercises, running, negotiating the various pieces of gymnasium equipment at done at a brisk tempo.

  There was the training in the use of the staff or truncheon on the first day of which a warning was issued to all.

  “Today we will demonstrate the use of the truncheon. I am obliged to relate to you The Home Office guide lines in the use of this truncheon, I have one here.”

  He produced the truncheon or staff and holding it above his head he continued.

  “Home office guide lines are quite clear; you will only use this staff as a last resort to defend yourself. The guidelines further state officers will, when using the staff aim for the arms and or legs of the person attacking the officer. Imagine the scene you are being attacked, your very life is on the line, you are forced to use your staff, you will therefore aim for the attacker’s arms and legs as per the guide lines’ making sure his head gets in the way first, accidentally of course.”

  “I will demonstrate, stand forward that Birmingham City man,” pointing at a recruit concealed at the rear of the class.

  The instructors missed nothing standing at the rear of a class or failing to respond or take part was a guarantee of being called forward.

  “Here take this staff, I am the criminal I will attack you, you will then strike me with your staff.”

  Handing the staff to the recruit, Sgt Pullen put on a stance of aggression and lunged forward, the recruit holding the staff was a
bout to strike when it was grabbed in mid air and pulled from him.

  “Right” said Sergeant Pullen “Lesson one, if you intend to use this weapon make sure the offender cannot pull it out of your hand for if he does he will bloody well use it on you.”

  He then demonstrated the correct way to hold the staff. Taking the leather strap, which was a loop, put the thumb inside it and swing the staff over the hand so that the strap could be seen over the top of the hand could not be pulled away. When done replace the truncheon in the long right hand trouser pocket made for the job.

  First aide lessons were held weekly which consisted of various descriptions of events likely to require an officer to under take first aid. Artificial respiration was an aspect well rehearsed there was no mouth to mouth in those days.

  As the course progressed and the law lessons had been digested there were various practical scenarios demonstrated, to put this law into every day events.

  Road traffic accidents were staged with the action required at the scene, noting and marking the position of vehicles with yellow road marking chalk, the taking of measurements and weather conditions. Identifying and noting details of witnesses occasionally taking written statements at the scene but mostly at a later stage.

  The scenes of thefts, burglaries and serious assaults, noting the facts, which would be, required later, once again tracing witnesses and making house-to-house enquiries.

  There were discussions in the classroom when the law was discussed together with the practical experience learned at the scene of events.

  Finally officers were given scenarios, of events, which required the forming of a case and later presentation of the case in a made up courtroom within the centre.

  Evenings and week ends continued to be spent making every effort to digest all one had been told during the day plus learning parrot fashion a wealth of legal definitions, powers of arrest and the points to prove in each aspect of the criminal law.

  After four weeks all students were given in addition to the normal written tests a more complex written examination of what they had or should have learned and been digesting for the month. This was followed by a weekend off, from Friday Lunchtime until Sunday evening at 10pm. All took the opportunity to visit ones home but as travel was by public bus the journey either way took hours so that any time at home was short.