Part 1 was published here yesterday.
How to walk a beat at night was a craft that took time to learn and was not easy, but if learned well would keep you safe and out of danger as you almost invariably patrolled alone. To that end you always walked in the shadows close to buildings, never walked the length of a street without stepping into a doorway, never used your torch to light the way and never stood full face to talk to anyone however amenable they may seem. Rule number one was keep the radio turned down and keep brain eyes and ears engaged at all times. It worked for me and still does. Old habits die hard, as it did for countless thousands of officers over the then 140 years of traditional British policing.
I mention this in passing, just to give a flavour of what life on the streets was in those far off days, when the patrolling sergeant, or sometimes the shift Inspector would call you up for a meet, check your pocket book entries were up to date and order you to ‘leave me a line’ in the pocket book which he would counter sign at the debrief at the end of a shift. Police women, especially in the supervisory ranks, were still fairly rare in those days. The hierarchy was police officers, criminals, civilians, women police constables, police dogs and special constables being the ‘norm’. But that of course was then.
So the first couple of hours was spent ‘shaking hands‘ with doors in the centre of town, not very well lit in those days either, checking properties and generally ‘showing the flag’ checking parked cars and so on, all routine bread and butter stuff. The pubs closed at 11.00pm and the clubs at 2am which meant on an average night you dealt with the odd drunk or occasional pushing and shoving between mates and the general noise that such people make when they have had a drink.
This night was no exception. The temperature was dropping to just above freezing; you could tell as the frost started to form on the lapels of your Gannex mac, a garment made famous by a certain politician in the 1960s which later became standard police issue. They were awful cumbersome things that were too long, stiff and heavy and developed a strange smell when wet, just the thing you needed to be wearing if you had to break up a fight or chase somebody on foot, which, believe it or not, police officers often had to do in those days.
One o’clock finds me checking the local church, which had to be checked even then. Lead theft and vandalism is nothing new, but I have to tell you that walking around a deserted church and churchyard on a pitch black foggy night is an acquired taste. The imagination has to be kept under control; it was not unknown for a new out-of-the box probationer bobby to be met with a ghoulish apparition in a flapping cape on their first solo night patrol.
The beat progressed to more sensitive areas, high value warehouses and factories, and at the gate house of such establishments the security guards were always happy to see a beat copper and arrange a brew up and a chat. There was little radio traffic now so all things being equal I decided to make a ‘Tango’ stop at one such gatehouse where I knew the security guards.
Andy was such a security guard patrolling alone a high value warehouse with millions of pounds of stock for 12 hours a night with only his time clock for company, no radio contact in an emergency or CCTV in those days. Not that it bothered Andy, ex WW2 para and still ram-rod straight in his mid50s, still fit as a fiddle. Good job as things turned out.
There was not much going on at two o’clock when the ‘spec’ (Inspector) in the ‘area car’ called up for a meet, signed my book and drove off. I made my way to Andy’s gate house and was relieved to see he had the kettle on.
We were just having a chat and I was starting to thaw out when I got a call. Always the way I thought. Alpha Tango 15, report of suspicious activity and noise, basement telecoms building, make your way, shout if you need assistance. Too bloody right I thought, the fog had really clagged in as I made my way a real ‘bag’ as we used to say, you could hardly see your hand in front of your face. The Telecoms building, was a four storey building surrounded by a security fence and according to our records alarmed and ‘sensitive’. If it was alarmed they weren’t working that night, as a close inspection of the metal gates – although closed – showed the metal security padlock had been cut off.
Radio turned down and as silently as possible, fog swirling around, I crept down the entrance roadway towards the basement entrance, making a radio ‘sitrep’ call as I went. There was somebody or some people carrying stuff out of the door which was off its hinges and loading it into a mini van.
I called in again, ‘watch your step, assistance coming eta 15 minutes’. Great, I thought, thick fog and assistance delayed – no choice but to do what I could to get close, radio in a description and number of the van along with the three men loading it.
Bit dodgy really, three against one, discretion could well be the better part of valour in the circumstances but if they got away, they would probably take a lot of finding and it would not look good for me.
It was then that I saw a shadowy figure against the wall opposite, signalling me and moving towards the men loading the van. We both crept forward, it’s odd how you notice things even when you are under stress and I distinctly remember thinking: “Blimey, he’s wearing a cape, lucky sod. I wonder how long he’s had that.” Anyway, I was glad he was there, probably one of the traffic guys, bloody quiet though and quick getting here.
A slight noise from behind and I turned around, ‘peg’ drawn. It was Andy. “Need any help mate?”. “Too right,” I replied, “but stay out of sight until me and that bloke over there make a move. There’s assistance coming but I don’t know how long they will be.”
The final part of this story will be published here tomorrow.
A lot of worrying health and safety implications here. Officers do not come on duty expecting to be open to the risk of harm. Correct procedure surely is to record an alarm then delay attending until any risk of harm has passed. Maybe two days. The rest can be left to forensic and the insurance. If arrests are made officers will be spending valuable time for the rest of their shifts on paperwork and be taken away from advising the public on the availability of counseling. If officers must attend then they should remain in their cars as with the very senior officer during the recent murder at the House of Commons. The sort of ‘policing’ described here is thankfully a thing of the last.
Looking forward to the book coming out!
I ran a Security Company for a number of years, and in my “Training Brief” I stressed the importance of getting to know the local beat “Bobby”, and always make sure that there was a brew on for them. As I started as a one man band, I knew a lot of the local Police, and a Sargent, who drove round checking things out. Eventually, when I started employing Guards, I would place them on a 2 man job, with an “Old Timer” to show them the ropes, and I would let this Sarge know that I had a new man on. Later I would see him and have a conversation about the quality of the brew. I had no way to check staff for criminal records, so the “Tea Report” was vital. A good brew meant that the new guard was “clean”, not bad meant the guard was OK but would bear watching, and a report of an terrible brew meant that I should get rid of him as he had a record as long as his arm! My patrol guys would help the Police out with traffic management after accidents, mainly keeping the “Looky Loos” away. It was a good relationship, to the extent that, if we had to call the Police in, we were assured of a rapid response, if needed, something that did not happen with other firms as I found out when the local firms met up for a beer and chat about working together, I never let on my method of working with the Old Bill of course. We had a good reputation, and, while the Police did not reccomend us ( they were not allowed to), somehow we picked up work after break ins etc. I am proud to say that most of my Lads, and Lasses were “Andys”. These days, with the cut backs and the loss of the Beat Bobby now driving around, it would be hard to build that sort of relationship. There was a lot of information shared around, which made our job easier, and also helped the Police in theirs.
This was the 80’s, and things were very different, now it seems that there is an us and them attitude, but the public would do well to remember that the “Thin Blue Line”, takes on a job , like our Armed forces, that most of society is unwilling to undertake. Support your local copper, they are worthy of your help, and who knows, they may well help you one day if you are down on your luck and suffer a break in or worse.
Can’t wait! You obviously survived the event. But how come Andy was there??
Interesting entertaining but far more important: Its a lesson from experience, simple rules and measures are the basis of everything.. Very few theories are worth more than grannies sayings.. I thought . Gotcha.. It’s a reflection !. But No. Come on get on with it.