There was another such break after yet another four weeks of law lessons, practical exhibitions, marching and the Physical training. A written examination to cover the previous month which if not passed required it to be taken again.
The final five weeks were just as intense during the day of official time plus the more or less certainly in Claude’s case of pacing up and down attempting to recall the various items. There was some help when students would test each other.
There was always an exception, one of Claude’s classmates in fact of the same force who spent practically no time at all studying. After lessons he arrived in the “Hut,” showered dressed and was out into the recreation building as soon as it opened leaving it only when it closed. In spite of this he always attained the highest marks in the weekly and monthly written examinations.
During the final two weeks of the course there was a new introduction into the drill session. It was it seemed a custom at the end of the course to hold a passing out parade for each course similar to that in Her Majesty’s forces. One event during which was for the passing out course to perform a demonstration of traffic signals to music; this was actively practiced in great detail often after normal hours during the evening.
Finally the thirteen weeks ordeal had all but ended, save for the final written examination. This was done and as anticipated the officer who had done no study came top of the course and his name appeared on the honours board.
It was now the day of the passing out parade. All officers had spent countless hours; bulling boots pressing trousers, starching collars all was set. The whole course lined up with the remaining courses now behind them in order of parade and order of service.
Came the order, “Parade, parade attention.”
The music began; it was no better in quality, Colonel Bogey began and the order from Sgt Thomas “By the centre, quick march.”
The lines of uniformed officers marched off towards the parade ground. The normal formalities took place then Claude and his course were centre stage.
The families of those passing out having been invited, as guests were now all lined up anxiously waiting to see the show of a life time.
Standing in three classes, in lines of three the music started, on this occasion it was as always the “Blue Danube.” As the tune played on the course in unison carried out the various traffic signals that officers undertook on a daily basis in those days. But on this occasion wearing the white cotton gloves, standard uniform issue for undertaking this duty, the scene recalled Claude was impressive.
Claude thought he would be remiss he failed to give special mention to the policewoman who just couldn’t keep in step in spite of threats what a pace could achieve. On the day of the parade she was honoured with the task of standing on the parade ground with marker flag in hand.
The study, examinations and parade over, bags now packed Claude and his three colleagues were eventually on the bus homeward bound.
All were given a weekend off and had been told at the centre to report to their respective Headquarters at 9am the following Monday morning, in uniform but with all kit and civilian clothes.
Claude arrived home to the joy of his proud parents, mother being surprised how efficient Claude was at polishing his boots and ironing his trousers in fact he was now adamant to do the tasks himself. He never mentioned he was too afraid to allow to be let loose on either, a rough brush across the boots and oh dear more than one crease in the trousers or shinning patch would never do.
Claude was now tired put away his typing machine and was about to rest his eyes when there was a knock on the door.
Claude felt too exhausted to walk over to answer the door so he called, “Enter,” this in itself took him back years when the illuminated lights at the door of the boss were not present either because that person’s rank was not sufficiently high or with modernisation, there arrived the call, enter.”
It was Angelina, seeking to know if he was accompanying her for the evening meal.
“I am,” he replied, deciding he would postpone the shower and changing.
“I will just have a quick face swill,” he said “And be with you.”
This done, the two were off down stairs and ready for a feast if not to the Salisbury standard which although had been very welcome at the time the food had been a bit too rich he thought.
During dinner Angelina surprised him when she asked, “I haven’t heard much about your book Claude, you haven’t been around much I wondered if you had been busying away on author duties?”
“I have done quite a bit” he replied, as he reached over the table for the pepper. “Would you care to read that which I have completed so far?” he added.
“I certainly would, what I have read so far has been very informative wasn’t it Joe?”
Claude felt a nudge under the table an error he thought Angelina attempting to nudge Scouser Joe but had nudged him in error. He didn’t react as he felt the foot move over and then Joe looked up, frowned, at being disturbed from his book and nodded in the affirmative, though didn’t speak.
“I will print it out later today, bind it with the new device you were kind enough to get for me and let you have it tomorrow morning,” he replied in hopes the machine would work, he was not so clever operating such things.
Arriving back in his room all went well; for once at least, he printed out the latest section of his book and bound it all in the space of two hours which in effect meant 11pm way beyond the normal bed time for inhabitants of The Homestead.
Chapter 12
It was 7 am, having faltered on the showering or rather should it now be the ablutions the previous evening; Claude put that to right forthwith. Once this was done he was dressed and ready to meet the new day and its possible exciting events to unfold, if only he thought.
At 7 55 am he left his room and knocked on the door of Angelina’s abode, she opened the door with her usual warm and friendly smile. How attractive she looked thought Claude, that highlighted hair again, it made her look much younger than her sixty years and took him back to the day in her shop and the theft of her handbag.
He handed her the book anticipating she would take it, and leave it in her room for later perusal, however she did not, rather she took hold of it in one hand then closed the door with the other and strode off towards the lift, looking back after a step or two ensuring Claude was following her.
Arriving in the dining room she headed for Claude’s usual table in the corner but on arrival finding Joe already seated and as per usual he had a book in front of his face with one hand whilst holding a fork pinioning half a sausage in the other.
The two new arrivals were seated, Angelina spoke first, “Good Morning Joe, are you well?”
“Very,” he replied from behind his book, which caused Angelina and Claude to smile and shake their heads, but said nothing further upon the matter.
Breakfast consumed, finally, Joe lowered his book, a thriller from the title.
A thriller, thought Claude and he said “Enjoying the book Joe?”
There was a delay and then Joe then replied, “Yes Wacker,” Liverpool slang. A bit on the violent side and also on the bad language side, written by an ex cop strangely enough.”
Claude smiled said nothing as he had neither written or read it so he thought least said the better he judged, knowing this Scouser.
Suddenly there came a tapping, obviously a spoon or similar on a table, this caused all the diners to stop and look up. It was Matron Raving she lost no time.
“Clients I am pleased to announce that tomorrow as a special treat Copton Brass Band will be arriving here at 2pm to entertain all clients, residents and staff with a concert of Christmas carols. I am sure you will all enjoy this and so lunch will be taken prompt at mid-day after which the lounges will be set out for you to enjoy the concert. Thank you, that is all.
She turned and left, leaving those present to digest the wonderful news thought Claude.
Later that
day the band duly arrived and gave a very entertaining show, pity thought Claude if they had been going those many years ago how much better they would have sounded playing for the marching cops onto the muster parades.
This reminded him it was time to leave; he said his good-bye and eventually sat in his room at his table, computer at the ready to recommence his story.
The arduous course at the training centre now completed, his parents updated and having heard of what took place they were proud of Claude, he thought, yes proud that sums it up.
The taxi arrived and Claude together with his suitcases were loaded and gone. It was 15 minutes drive to Hafod railway station and onwards the half an hour until he arrived at Copton railway station.
A further struggle on foot through the town until finally arriving at the large Victorian building signed Copton Constabulary, Police Headquarters, there was no sign which said “Abandon hope all ye who enter here” but it felt that way as Claude arrived at the information room seeking permission from the uniform constable on duty there that day to leave his belongings there. The permission was granted and the officer was well aware a new recruit had arrived and would require transport.
“Put your cases down there, when you know your posting come back, I will call a patrol car to give you a lift.”
“Thank you,” said Claude and he saw the handsome middle-aged lady whom he had seen on the first occasion take a peep through the corner of her eye and wink.
He walked the two flights of stairs finally arriving at the end of the corridor where he had inadvertently witnessed the two very senior officers locked in combat some four months previous. It was he recalled deathly quiet, then, he had second thoughts, not deathly he whispered to himself. He saw the training office in front of him and walked down the passage and upon arrival he knocked on the door.
There was, on this occasion a uniform sergeant seated at a desk, aged about forty with white grey hair but which was flat with the dreaded hair cream. Before anything could be said the same Inspector arrived and said
“Come in, I have your report from the training centre here.”
Claude walked behind him; the officer sat at his desk, there was no chair so Claude was left standing. The inspector read his report but made no comment upon it, but he did speak.
“I will give you a quick run down on the force; you will learn more in time, that is if you pass your two years probationary period.”
Copton Police is divided into areas the first being Headquarters where all the administration is done, some by police officers and some by civilians. The Headquarters is commanded by the chief and his deputy, in addition there is a detective superintendent, detective inspector and several sergeants plus some detectives. There are several patrol cars covering the force area though working from stations they are officially based at headquarters so are the dog handlers and scenes of crime officers. You will learn more of these later.
There are four divisions, each commanded by a Superintendent with a chief Inspector as his deputy. Below them some have an Inspector other just sergeants depending upon the size, manpower etc. The divisions are as follows.
A Division Copton.
B Division Broughton.
C Division Ashton.
D Division Sale.
E Division Newton.
“You are posted with immediate effect to Broughton “B” Division. Leave here by patrol car report to Broughton Police station you will be updated when you arrive there."
“Finally you will report here one day each month with the other probationers for a training day, you will be notified of the date, you may go now.”
Claude replied, “Yes sir” and saluted, the Inspector looked up and said, “They didn’t teach you much at the centre, you don’t salute when not wearing heads dress, just stand to attention, ok you can leave now.”
Interview over Claude left and arriving in the Information room was given a cup of tea by the lady on duty who now introduced herself as Jenny Fleet and the officer as Constable Chris Pound.
Claude didn’t know it then but over the years he would have constant contact with the staff in this room, they would often be a lifeline.
Chris Pound said, “Sit down and see what goes on whilst you are waiting for your lift.”
Claude sat and the time was interesting. He was given a demonstration on the use of the force radio. The various calls signs for each mobile vehicle and the static police stations, where a radio was also installed.
“That is how the system works, all cars and motorcycles have a radio; each has a unique call sign so we are all aware of who is who and where they are located. In addition each police station has a radio although not on all the time we contact them as and when we have a message we circulate or send out and everyone writes it down at the same time. We also send out telex messages to the police stations but not the mobiles, with longer messages.
“There you are, that is how is works,” she was about to end when there was a loud Claxon, and simultaneously the several phones located on the table each containing several switches one on each began to flash.
Chris immediately answered, “police emergency.”
The caller said, “I want to report an accident in Copton High Street a car has struck a pedestrian.”
“Is there anyone injured?” replied Chris.
“Yes a small boy, he ran in front of the car.”
Jenny immediately picked up her phone, pressed a button obviously a direct line to ambulance control and requested an ambulance to attend.
Chris meanwhile obtained all the details he could from the caller.
Jenny picked up her microphone and made an identical call as just demonstrated to Claude she directed a mobile to attend the accident asking for an ETA (estimated time of arrival) she next telephoned Copton Police station requesting an officer patrolling the town also be directed to attend to the accident and deal thus preventing the car from being out of action for any length of time. It was all completed in a few minutes Claude was very impressed.
The patrol car for Claude arrived, the driver refuelled, signed the petrol log sheet in the control room, assisted Claude to load up and they were on their way in minutes. The driver introduced himself as Ian Frances there was not much conversation enroute to Broughton Police station some miles outside Copton town, the driver entertained himself smoking cigarettes. He took out a cigarette from a silver case, closed the case then tapped the cigarettes end upon it then having placed the cigarette into his mouth produced petrol lighter and in a moment there were clouds of smoke.
Claude recalled how at the training centre he had been informed that smoking in uniform, eating or drinking was not permitted. He assumed doing so inside a marked police car was permitted as it was within the confines of police station and everywhere else if it came to that, but not by patrolling officers in the street.
Arriving at Broughton police station it appeared to have been built in the reign of Queen Victoria or soon afterwards. It was attractive in design constructed of bricks in two colours red, and a blue tone red. The windows were typical sash windows. .
Arriving at their destination the driver drove to the rear of the building, assisted Claude to remove his suitcases, and then pointed to the rear door.
He informed Claude he was off duty in twenty minutes and so was required to wash the vehicle for the oncoming driver. In those days marked police cars were washed at the end of every shift or to quote a police phrase, tour of duty. The oncoming driver was then immediately available for any calls. There were four drivers allocated to each patrol car one for each of the three shifts one being on a day off, which meant the cars were normally used constantly round the clock but single crewed except at night.
Arriving in the police station Claude struggled along the narrow passage finally reaching the “Front counter” as it was referred to. A small area, the front door located on the left, the passage along which he had just walked and another to his front. To the left of th
is was the counter with a shelf across the open frontage. Inside he could see a uniformed police officer seated at a desk he was typing something and so didn’t immediately see Claude but having done so he looked up and said. “Are you the replacement, wait there I will tell the Sergeant.”
It was some ten minutes before a uniformed sergeant appeared, set of vehicle keys in hand.
“I am Sergeant Ian France, follow me I will take you to your lodgings,” was the only conversation.
Having loaded his belongings into the rear of the black Hillman Husky car they were on their way and after only about five minutes arrived at a terraced house on the outskirts of Broughton town.
A knock on the rear door brought a lady who appeared to be in her seventies, she had grey hair over which there was a hair net, the first Claude had seen since he was a boy when visiting his grandmother. She was tall of slight build with rounded shoulders.
“This is Constable Friendly,” said Sergeant France “and this Friendly, is Mrs Eliza James your landlady. Report to the police station, 9 am tomorrow morning.”
With that he said nothing further, turned and left.
It was strange recalled Claude all those so many years ago almost a lifetime, arriving to live with and in the home of a total stranger after being an only child with his mother to do everything for him. He had become independent to some degree as a result of his thirteen weeks training. This would be a new experience, in someone else’s home, unable to enter a cupboard or a draw, careful when moving or even sitting in fear of breaking something. There might then be the problems of the coming and going at odd hours, after all he thought what about the nights out the coming in late. He was soon to find this would be a figment of his imagination, certainly for several years. He didn’t realise it but he had entered a world within a world, his life in his world would not be the same as the life and world of others of his age in the small town of Broughton.
Police Memories Page 18