Wandering Children.
Irene and Noreen were now approaching the age to attend school, it being about two hundred yards from home. Their thinking about this was the cause of the one and only time they went missing. The garden was receiving my attention when Maria came out and enquired where the twins were. A quick search of the area failed to produce an answer, in addition Vic was missing and continuous whistling had no results. On going out on to the adjacent road, a villager was seen, pedalling his cycle from the centre of the village, stopped on seeing that I was looking a bit agitated, he asked, “Are you wondering where your pair are?” Confirming that I was, he pointed to the village. “They are down there with the dog.” Running down towards the village and making a quick search got me nowhere, but the same information from another resident sent me back towards home. All the properties situated along both sides of the road had their gates closed, except one, that of the school. Around the back I went and in through the rear doors where I heard familiar voices. In a classroom talking to the cleaning lady, were the missing pair, Vic was sitting between then, with each girl holding the dog’s collar. Walking back home they told me that they were curious to see what the school was like as they would be starting soon.
They had not been at school long before, when the time arrived for me to make one of my regular visits to the school to give a Road Safety talk. To assist me I used what was known as a flannel graph, that showed a road lay out on which models of vehicles and pedestrians could be stuck on. Both girls had tried out the models with me at home so knew how it was used. I had not been giving the talk long before Irene walked out to the front of the class to assist me. Not to be outdone Noreen then followed, so then the remainder of the talk„ turned into a display by the Thorne trio. Following their display it was decided that they should be doing something else on my next school visit.
Easter arrived and Tony was now at the age when he was running about in his little red wellingtons and carrying a small spade. Whenever I was at home doing jobs with poultry he was close behind me. On one occasion he decided to look through the side of the henhouse, he was able to do this where a knot in the wood was missing. Standing on tiptoe and about to look through the hole a beak shot out and held his nose. So hard did the cockerel hold his nose that it caused the blood to flow, he never tried to look through the hole again but the culprit paid later from his swinging spade.
Escorting IRA Prisoners.
The IRA were becoming active in the country and I was soon to become involved. At least three members were active, breaking into firearm stores. During a normal area night patrol PC Eric Richardson, [PC 156 Eric Charles Richardson Ed.] ex-glider pilot, was near Much Hadham, with his observer. At that time many churches in the country were being stripped of lead, it was this in mind that caused Eric to be suspicious of a van travelling to Bishop’s Stortford, its springs were very low at the rear, indicating it was carrying a heavy load. Picking a location where the road had banks on each side, the Police car driver forced the van to stop. On searching it, it was found to be filled with machine guns, rifles and ammunition, stolen from a college store. The driver, without hesitation, told the Police crew they were members of the Irish Republican Army.
The result of this arrest brought me into the picture, the offenders had to appear before Bishop Stortford Court once a week on remand and then be housed in Brixton Prison until their next Court appearance. It took several weeks before being committed to a higher court and each journey to Brixton was completed. I was the unfortunate officer to drive the van that conveyed the bunch of IRA men on each journey, but as an experienced Firearms Officer I was armed with a loaded revolver, as the other escorts were. The Journeys to and from Brixton were very hair raising, being escorted by MI5, who knew London like the back of their hands, with a different route each time. They believed the faster we travelled the less chance of us being hijacked. Once the committal to a higher Court was complete our task was over. However, since the early fifties the IRA continued for many years to be an enemy of this country which at times necessitated my involvement.
A Raid On A Country Club.
Located on my Beat was a large mansion that had been used as the Officers Quarters during the War. After being vacated by the RAF it reverted to civilian use and became a Country Club, combined with a riding school. Not many months went by before rumours were rife about wild parties going on which did not quite comply with the law, involving unlawful drinking, gambling and possible obscene acts. To enable Police to raid the place, periods of observation were kept at various times, including during hours of darkness. I did my share at different locations in the huge grounds. This allowed me to establish where easy access points were to the large building, such as unlocked doors and sliding windows. Detective Constable Rarp [DC 200 Desmond John Rarp Ed.] obtained details of the interior layout by joining the Riding School. He employed some of his time by measuring areas and positions of doors and obtaining enough detail to complete sketch plans. This was achieved when he retired to the confines of the toilet. On a suitable Friday, the busiest day of the week for the Club, a conference of all the officers about to take part in the raid was held at Bishops Stortford Police Station. At midnight the same day a creeping, intermittent line of dark figures moved from tree to tree towards the target building. The sound of music and laughter drifted towards us, it was obvious that most people inside were enjoying themselves. Our Superintendent was leading us and he went up to the front door. I, with three others, made our way to a window which I expected to be unlocked. I slid it upwards and as a couple of us put our heads inside, two of the revellers helped us through the window. From our helpers we gathered they thought we were members celebrating Rag Week.
Our Superintendent had obviously got in through the front door, I heard him shouting, “This is a Police raid,” at the same time taking off his raincoat and revealing his police uniform. As soon as the patrons realised what was going on, dozens ran towards the doors, not realising all exits were barred. Girls ran out of various rooms partially clad. After a short period of chaos things quietened down and some order was gained by lining members up at tables where plain clothed Officers sat recording each person’s details and reporting them for the various offences discovered. This job of obtaining evidence to prove offences continued for some hours. The types of offences detected were only summary, a lot of work had been caused just because a complaint had been received.
So police work in the villages went on, visits under the Disease of Animals Act continued, including visits to local residents to inspect a boar register. In this case, it was laughable to see the boar being conveyed in a trailer towed by his private car for mating purposes, covering neighbouring villages.
Queen’s Parade.
A break up in the routine occurred when I was picked as one those to represent the County Force on the Queen’s Parade in Hyde Park. Her Majesty had only held a Police Parade once during her lifetime and I had the pleasure and honour of being on it. Of course, in those days all policemen were six feet tall, plus their helmets and closed-neck tunics were still the order of the day. To be one of those on parade made us all proud and the country still depends on the very thin blue line.
[Published in the Herts and Essex Observer on Friday 16th July 1954 – Police at Royal Review. At the review of the Police Forces by the Queen in Hyde Park on Wednesday (14th July) “A”. Division of the Herts Constabulary was represented by P.C.’s F. R. Bark and G. J. Mynott (Bishop’s Stortford). G. Rill (Sawbridgeworth), 0. Thorne (Hunsdon). I. Ross (Buntingford), Special Sergeant R. D. Ives (Bishop’s Stortford), and Special Constables J. Jacobs (Sawbrldgeworth) and A. W. Burch (Ware). Ed.]
Promotion Board.
It was on another visit to Ware during the summer of 1957 and looking into my correspondence box that I read a note from my Inspector saying that he wanted to see me immediately. I went up to his office, knocked gently and entered. He looked rather stern and told me to sit down. “Why didn’t you apply to go on the Promotion Board?” He asked. I hadn’t really got a reason. He then gave me a lecture and asked where the next lot of leaders would come from if people like me, with experience, just sat back and let others take responsibility. He flung a form at me and instructed that I should fill it in. On the way home I realised I hadn’t told Maria that anyone who wanted to be considered for promotion had to apply. We discussed the problem during our evening meal. I am afraid that she was somewhat annoyed having helped me with my studies. Whatever the conclusion we were to come to, an inevitable move would cause great upheaval. I would have to dispose of a great number of fowls and equipment relating to keeping then, plus a good garden full of produce. As it was unlikely that I would be promoted for a couple of years it was decided that I should apply. Failing to apply could put me in the Inspector’s bad books and he was in a position to make things awkward for me. It was not many weeks after applying to be considered for promotion that instructions came for me to visit HQ to attend the Board. The Assistant Chief Constable and two of his Chief Superintendents sat at a table thinking what taxing questions they should put to me. The range of subjects and problems covering Police Law was immense and they gave me no indication as to how I had fared. On completing the interview a curt, “Thank you Constable,” indicated that the interview was over. Some two hundred Constables had passed for promotion and something like eight to ten would succeed during the following year, so that gave me a twenty to one chance. If I did not manage it during that year the same procedure would have to be gone through again.
Christmas 1957 saw Maria and I taking the children to Bishops Stortford Police Station Divisional HQ where the children’s party was an annual event. The Force was always a good organisation to be in for such entertainment and sporting occasions. During the party the Divisional Superintendent socialised with various officers and their families. When he got around to us his conversation covered numerous subjects, and on passing along from us he seemed to say, as an afterthought, “I understand that you did well on the board.” Although it was reassuring of him to mention that I had done well, I had no idea what he really meant! It appears that my promotion position on the Divisional list was top, that meant that I could be Sergeant within twelve months. So where was my destination to be? His remarks did not convey any more to me.
A Village Disturbance.
The new town of Harlow had been under construction for some time, its new population was mainly from London and the behaviour of some, left a lot to be desired. My Beat was generally left alone but, some adjoining villages and towns soon had visits from their gangs. Much Hadham, a village on the adjoining Beat, had a regular Saturday dance that attracted youths from Harlow, the town where so far there was very little entertainment. Cinemas and halls were the last things to be constructed. I didn’t usually have to assist my neighbour, Constable Brain [PC 110 George Brain Ed.], a well built ex-guardsman, who towered above most of the population, a very impressive figure. On this occasion I met him outside the hall where we had a chat and he told me that there was a small gang inside. Suddenly the hall’s double doors were flung open and about half a dozen yobs spilled out on to the forecourt, one bending forwards with his head on his knees, and protecting his head with his hands. He was closely followed by a much larger skin head wielding a cycle chain, striking his opponent whenever he could. George Brain was much older than I, but he moved more quickly than most, he struck the chain wielding yob’s biceps with all his force and grabbed the chain as he did so. George, being an old timer, believed in instant punishment, he showed the culprit that others could also swing chains by striking all his muscles, legs and arms with the offensive instrument. On seeing what punishment could be expected the remainder soon backed away. With his muscles aching and having difficulty in walking, the “chain man” left assisted by his frightened mates. The reason for me being there was to give assistance if necessary, but George’s actions had been instant and thorough I had little time to assist, my small part had only been to keep others away.
PC 110 George Brain
We had a somewhat worrying time for a fortnight or so wondering if a complaint was on the way, but nothing was heard. In those days that type of offender took his punishment as something that had to be put up with. Needless to say, for a long period the gangs from Harlow were never seen, and they kept well away, in fact as far away as Southend!
[From Oswald’s personnel file it is recorded that on the 30th January 1958 he received a Commendation for “Commendable manner dealing with street fighting at Ware.” It would seem to be a different incident to that described above Ed.]
Spring of 1958 came and I was still keeping watch over my ten square miles of countryside, plus all its population. The girls were happy at the village school and their time there gave Maria freedom to look after Tony, but he also was watched over by Vic who was never far from him. When the girls first started school Vic could not understand why she was not allowed to go with then, being a dog who normally did not stray from home we were surprised to get a telephone call from the schoolmaster to inform us that she was waiting outside their classroom door. As a result of this incident we had to keep a firm eye on her for a while.
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