Moving In.
It was usual when a member of the Force was transferred from one station to another for his home contents to be transported by furniture removers at the authority’s expense. In my case, a first time move with very little furniture, a Police van was thought adequate. On 15th March 1950 the van arrived at 44 Garston Lane to assist us as we started another phase in our lives. After loading the few items we had managed so far to accumulate, plus my cycle, we took the direct journey to Hunsdon. This was certainly much quicker than our initial visit when we had to travel by numerous buses. Reaching the now vacant house, [7 Widford Road, Hunsdon Ed.] it did not take long for our pitiful few belongings to be unloaded. While awaiting delivery of the new furniture we had ordered we explored the exterior, briefly making plans. A third of an acre looked enormous, it was in the shape of a triangle, one side being adjacent to the main Hunsdon to Widford Road. Cutting the long hawthorn hedge with hand clippers looked as if it would prove an unending task!
Our new furniture arrived early afternoon and by evening all was in position, bed made and fire alight. With three rooms out of five empty and nothing on the floors except one small rug in front of the sitting room fire, walking around on bare boards made the place sound very hollow and it echoed. Outlook from the rear window was unrestricted, firstly over the large garden then across open fields from where the wind blew across land without any natural breaks onto our exposed house. On going to bed that first night we laid and listened to the various country noises that were familiar but had to be got used to again. The month of March, as usual, was like a lion, howling more than expected. In the curtain less room we watched the light density change as the clouds passed over the moon. Sounds made by different wildlife, such as owls, foxes, and hares could be clearly heard mixed in with all the other domestic animals in fields nearby.
The Force allowed three days to settle into a new house, so during that time we visited the three village shops, a Post Office and Stationers combined, a greengrocer and a General store. We made ourselves known at each. Their responses with so many “Sir’s,” plus bowing and scraping made us realise the position we had taken up in this rural area!
On the second day the telephone started to ring. What telephone! I think it was called the sit-up-and-beg type. It had a round mouth piece at the top of a tube set in the centre of a round base, half way up was a spring arm on which an ear piece hung when not in use. Our number – easy to remember – Much Hadham 145. Through this contraption came information involving either the peaceful or unlawful running of my twenty square mile rural Beat. Actual land communication was maintained via two roads, one A and one B classification, in the shape of a letter Y. A village was located on each arm of the letter and one at the join. Hunsdon had a population of approximately eight hundred and fifty, Widford six hundred and Wareside thirteen hundred. The latter two generally consisted of farming communities each having a school, church, couple of shops and two or three public houses. Hunsdon was very similar but its wartime history made it different as a large night fighter aerodrome had been hastily constructed on farmland between the village and hamlet of High Wych. This wartime aerodrome left a mark on the peacetime community. On my arrival the disused hangars and various other buildings were being used by farmers for storage purposes. An egg distribution firm used the old gymnasium as a packing station. The pharmaceutical firm of Smith and Nephew had the remainder as a storage depot.
Population changes had been caused due to marriages of RAF personnel to local girls, many WAAF Officers had married young farmers without much thought as to what type of life they would be leading. This night-fighter station had many notable pilots attached to its squadrons. One being “Cats Eyes Cunningham,” later to become chief test pilot for de Havilland’s Aircraft Company “Comet Fame.” Another was Peter Townsend who married a local girl, Rosemary Pawle, daughter of Brigadier Pawle of Widford. Townsend was later to be associated with HRH Princess Margaret.
Learning The Beat.
PC Oliver, [PC 339 Thomas Oliver Ed.] the previous village Bobby, had kindly left me a comprehensive list of all persons residing in the area who had criminal records, were suspects, doubtful visitors, poachers and all people I should get to know. Vicars, Doctors, Midwives, Councillors, Licensees included those who I should familiarise myself with. Being a rural area, the Police (that’s me) was responsible for enforcing the Disease of Animals Acts. It was, therefore, necessary for me to keep records of all, including farmers, holding Cattle Movement Registers that should show all animal movements on and off their premises. Added to these were Boar Registers and Sheep Dipping that I had to supervise.
Spread amongst the population were fifteen members of the nobility, ranging from Lords, Ladies, Barons and Dukes. It was not long before I received a telephone call from one of these personages. A Lady, an American who years before had married an English Lord but who was now widowed. On our first meeting she enlightened me as to my prospects of promotion, as far as she was concerned examinations did not come into it! All these people, as I got to know them, were politely told that on entering the Force the oath had been taken and I would perform my duties without fear or favour.
During my third day in residence several hours were spent giving my pedal cycle a good overhaul, ensuring it was capable of coping with the strenuous work it was about to undertake. On my first day on duty I traversed all the main roads on my Beat, checking the boundaries by means of a map. The remaining small roads were to become known gradually as the months went by. It soon became apparent that my Beat covered a lovely part of Hertfordshire with rolling hills and dales, rivers, streams and beautiful woods from where at 1 a.m. in the morning I was to listen to numerous nightingales at Mardocks Railway Station.
My Divisional and Sub-Division Stations generally kept in touch with me at my house or at telephone kiosks in villages at prearranged times. If they telephoned my house when I was not in Maria had to take messages, an unpaid duty that all village Policeman’s wives had to undertake.
Farm Movement, Boar and Cattle Transporting Registers had to be inspected once a quarter so two or three farms were visited each day. These visits enabled me to get to know the real rural population, including farm employees. Such calls were always welcome during cold or wet weather as farmer’s wives were only too glad to provide either hot or cold refreshment, then partake in the local gossip with me listening to all but divulging little. It was by such means that I got to know some of the happenings on my Beat, enabling me to prevent misdemeanours occurring with a quiet word dropped in the right place. While cycling along it was always policy to stop and have a word with the road sweeper who was only too happy to have a rest from his monotonous job and talk about his family or neighbours. He would also tell you Mr. so and so had gone to market. If a road sweeper is watched it will be seen that when each traveller passes, he stops pushing his broom, leans on it and watches the vehicle out of sight, such people are full of information. Some of my regular ports of call were at the many gamekeeper’s cottages who knew all the movements of the known or suspected poachers. Perks were often received, but as I couldn’t be seen cycling home with rabbits, birds etc. hanging on my handle bars I made sure that the whereabouts of my cycle shed was known. Often a lovely Sunday dinner of a brace of pheasants was found amongst my garden tools. After the birds had been plucked Maria soon got into the way of making cushions with the feathers, just as my mother had done years before. By the end of April I had just about got used to my Beat and had enough energy left to start cultivating my third of an acre. Within six months it had been completed and produced potatoes, carrots, parsnips, cabbage, brussels, broccoli and other vegetables to see us through the winter, in fact, by the following year we provided ourselves throughout our rural stay. Potatoes and carrots were stored in clamps. In addition to the bushes already in position I added others, these together with trees provided adequate fruit for eating but much was turned into jam or bottled. Most year’s good crops of black and red currants, gooseberries, raspberries and plums were gathered. Apples, pears and onions, were stored in the spare room. Maria soon learned the art of bottling, as when I returned home from duty I would find another half dozen jars on the kitchen table setting or cooling.
After we had settled in it was obvious Maria was very anxious to contribute more towards improving our home, she was, by now, beginning to know many people in the village. One day when eating our evening meal she asked me what I thought about her returning to work. It appeared that a Mr. Pugsley, a village resident, had produced his driving documents to her, these she used to inspect but, if out of order, retain them for me to deal with. While performing this duty and during her conversation with him he told her that he travelled to Hatfield daily where he worked for de Havilland Aircraft Company, the same Company Maria had worked for at Garston. As there was no official reason to keep her at home all day she applied to the Company for any possible vacancy they thought her capable of. Not many weeks had gone by before she was asked to attend an interview which resulted in her gaining a good position as a secretary. Our routine was then somewhat changed but it did not take us long to adjust. Her rising in the morning was much earlier than usual as it was necessary for her to walk three quarters of a mile to Pugsley’s home by 8.15 a.m., catch her lift which enabled her to begin work at 9 a.m. If I had been out on late shift and not settled into bed before 2 a.m. I would turn over and go back to sleep when she got up. It was not long before the extra money made it possible for her to purchase a twin-tub washing machine which, to her, was real luxury. When my probation period ended after two years my weekly wage was £6/6/0d less stoppages. Of course, my house and uniforms were additional benefits. Maria was earning about the same and every Friday night she placed the amounts necessary into a number of typewriter ribbon tins all labelled for such accounts as food, electricity, clothes, holidays etc. and one provided as a spare which was used for savings or bus fares to Watford when on occasions we stayed for the weekend with my parents.
The Egg Thieves.
My Beat had been fairly quiet for the first few months but my colleagues and Sergeant Capon [Sergeant 56 Eric Stanley Capon Ed.] impressed on me it would not continue so for ever. When trouble came it was sudden, my shift was 10 p.m. to 2 a.m. After Widford and Wareside had been visited I returned to the Hunsdon area on my cycle. The egg-packing station was one of the premises that had to be checked, it was the old Air Force gymnasium, one of the many buildings situated on the southern outskirts of the village. A fair-sized building capable of storing millions of eggs and located alongside Nine Ashes Lane. Access was gained by an open drive and it had a large turning area at the rear. My normal practice was to cycle along the drive without showing lights, continue to the rear where I would check the double doors. This particular night, before reaching the back of the building, I suddenly saw the front of a large lorry that was obviously backed up to the doors. For a lorry to be there in such a position meant only one thing. Eggs were still on ration due to the continued wartime shortages. Rapidly dismounting and at the same time braking violently in an effort not to be seen, I managed to stop before passing the end of the building. By now my heart rate had increased severely as I placed my cycle against the wall. Peeping round the corner I watched and listened. From the sound of the boxes being loaded and the numbers seen passing the gap between the building and the rear of the lorry, it could be ascertained that at least four men had just started loading. Knowing the amount of opposition I considered that safety was the best course. Jumping on my cycle I raced to the nearest occupied lodge located approximately five hundred yards away. My local knowledge now came in handy, I knew the occupier of the lodge always slept at the front downstairs. Knocking on the window I wondered what sort of reception he would give me at 1.30 a.m. A startled face appeared at the window and seeing my uniform he quickly opened the door. I briefly explained that it was necessary to make an urgent telephone call.
Hatfield Police HQ Radio Room was hastily informed of the situation. The operator assured me that two area cars would be despatched, one approaching from the direction of Stanstead Abbotts, the other from Eastwick. This manoeuvre would cover escape from both ends of Nine Ashes Lane. I hastily cycled back and saw the lorry was still in position, creeping to an advantage point from behind the bushes where the felons could be seen and watched. To my amazement two men were sitting on egg crates at the rear of the lorry smoking and drinking, talking to others. I couldn’t see inside the building. After having their break they continued loading their spoils. About ten minutes later I was getting rather uptight as at least one Police car should have arrived by then to give me assistance. Gradually the sound of a speeding car came to my ears, then clearly I realised it was approaching from the Eastwick direction. The distant sound of the car was suddenly interrupted by the men getting into the lorry, three in the front cab and two in the rear. To my surprise a total of five. As it drove away the index number could not be seen as all rear lights remained extinguished. Emerging from my concealed position I saw the lorry disappear from view travelling in the direction of Stanstead Abbotts.
What to do now was questionable. If I went back to the lodge to telephone HQ again, to tell them the lorry’s direction, any area car attending would miss me. Any decision necessary was made for me by the screaming sound of the approaching Wolseley that illuminated the road from Nine Ashes Farm. Standing in the road, the Police car squealed almost to a halt while I indicated to the driver to continue on to Stanstead Abbotts. The observer opened the rear door of the car while I ran alongside and jumped in without the car stopping. Quickly I informed the crew of the culprits, the lorry’s description and direction of travel which the observer transmitted to HQ and to other cars. We raced towards the village, our driver continually braking, the car swaying, clipping overhanging branches, he regularly changed to a lower gear to enable us to take corners at speed under more control. After rounding a bend the rear shape of a lorry could just be made out in the distant beam of our headlights. With our greater speed, we soon caught up with our prey where two of the thieves could be clearly seen standing against the piled up egg cases. As soon as they realised who we were they started throwing crates of eggs at us, most of them missed but a few landed on the bonnet of our car. For some miles the chase and dodging of wooden cases continued. Our radio then informed us that the Hertford Patrol car would attempt to stop the lorry at a certain farm entrance. This was an ideal location, as the road had high banks each side. We slackened our speed when approaching that known specific place. Without warning the twin rear wheels of the lorry suddenly locked and blue smoke belched from between the tyres and the road surface, our Police car pulled up close to the end of the lorry and we all jumped out.
The three of us climbed over the lorry’s tail board while attempting to fend off four flailing fists but we soon overpowered the two, after a short struggle and handcuffed them. Unbeknown to us at that time the driver’s door of the lorry was held closed by our colleagues from the other Police car, the near side lorry door could not be opened as it was tight up against the high bank leaving the other three villains trapped. With two thieves already handcuffed and being looked after by our driver, the remaining two of us went to assist the Hertford crew, thus outnumbering the trapped men who we pulled out one at a time. It was a good thing there were no more prisoners as by then we had run out of handcuffs. We considered the safest way to convey so many prisoners was by their own lorry and this was done by handcuffing them all together then loading them up into the still vacant space at the back of the lorry. I drove the lorry and each Police car was driven by its own driver following behind. This way all that remained of the stolen property and bodies went to Ware Police Station where once again we had to start the paperwork.
A New Recruit – Vic Joins The Force.
A few days after my “egg arrest,” Maria had had time to think about it, she remarked it had been rather dangerous to encounter so many characters together. While cycling round my Beat the next week I gave the matter considerable thought, including a suggestion from one of my farmers of getting myself a “bloody great dog.” Yes! To tackle a couple was reasonable but five was a few too many. Wheels were quickly put in motion by telephoning my cousin Ciss who had good connections in the “doggy world.” Within a week she told me of the availability of an Alsatian (German Shepherd) puppy bitch in Yorkshire which she recommended. Purchase was agreed, delivery was to be made by collecting it at Watford Railway Station on the following Saturday when we made our usual monthly visit to my parents. As agreed on the Saturday afternoon we met what was to be, the most faithful pal of my life. Sable in colour and like a fluffy ball it looked out through the bars of the travelling cage, frightened after its long journey from Yorkshire. Calling back at 44 Garston Lane for a break and after feeding and watering the animal we journeyed our way back to Hunsdon by bus, carrying Vic – Victoria – in the same travelling cage that she came in.
Oswald’s wife Maria her friend Noreen and ‘Vic’ outside the Hunsdon Police house.
Vic was three and a half months old and so started a year long period of training to ensure she did her job. Maria assisted me quite a lot holding Vic if necessary when teaching her to watch and hold when I ran with a sack shield on my arm. Changing places with Maria to ensure the dog would hold anyone. Before she was a year old I had trained her to a high enough standard for me to take her on patrol. Although not authorised by the authorities nobody in high positions objected to her being out with me so I had to make sure she behaved herself. It was not long before she ran in front of me while I cycled, getting to know the routes to be taken as well as I did. On reaching a road junction her head would turn to see which direction I indicated. It was mostly half tours of duty when she accompanied me mainly 7 to 11 p.m. and 10 to 2 a.m. or 6 to 10 a.m. During these periods she would run at least six miles and often up to ten. She not only assisted me in my work but guarded me and became an excellent companion. She disliked me having days off or shifts that took me to Ware, during such days she had to stay behind, mostly in the garden if Maria was at home, otherwise next-door neighbours would look after her.
This brings me to my next-door neighbour, Charlie Vigus, a man then about sixty years of age, a retired farmer residing in property that earlier had been a small holding but due to farms being made larger his wooden bungalow just remained within a paddock with surrounding buildings such as barns, stables, sties and a dairy. The fields had became part of a larger holding. Charlie resided with Vera, an unmarried lady, some twenty odd years his junior. A nicer couple for neighbours one could not wish for; they were always willing to help. They had a small terrier and together with Vic they would wander over the fields. She was almost as much at home with Charlie and Vera as with us. The dogs sharing meals and a bed together while waiting for Maria or I to return home.
An Investment In Chickens.
My interest in chickens had not waned from my earlier days so when considering what to do with the remaining eighth of an acre of ground chickens were, once again in my plans. This time things would be done correctly, establishing costs of different breeds, the number of eggs produced by each type in a year and amounts they would fetch when finally disposed of. Consideration was given to how much food was consumed and what time of the year they laid best, i.e. if they laid better when eggs were dearer. To carry out these trials at least eight pens were required large enough to accommodate six hens. Seven of the appropriate breeds and cross breeds were purchased when the pullets were about twelve weeks old, they being purchased from Chapmore End Farm. The various breeds came into lay at different ages between four and six months of age. The egg sizes being very different among the breeds. This made it necessary for me to purchase egg scales. Meticulous records were kept covering two laying seasons. Eggs were sold to my colleagues in the Force, this way fresh eggs were sold at retail prices, cutting out egg-packing stations or retailers but, at that time twenty eight hens did not produce enough to worry about. The same flock was kept for approximately twenty four months or until completion of the second laying season. During the second season eggs were much larger fetching a higher price, but less were produced. I continued with these tests with the idea of purchasing a large flock to make use of the remaining uncultivated land at my disposal. The results of these endeavours will be recorded later.
Working With Vic.
It was not long before I took Vic out with me on night shift patrol and when the chance arose tried her out to see if her training had yet paid off. By then she ran some distance in front of me whilst I followed on my cycle. She got to know the route that included looking round part of the old RAF Station which had been taken over by Smith and Nephew Ltd the pharmaceutical firm that produced Nivea cream etc. Their caretaker used to place out tins for any visiting Policemen to encourage regular visits. Vic was eager to do her job so used to go round the huts on her own and then meet up with me at intervals, ending our visit where the tins of Nivea cream were left out. Her first encounter was quite a surprise, on-rounding the end huts I saw an empty Police car and behind it it’s two man crew with their backs close up against the wall. Laying on the ground facing the two frightened Policemen, mouth open, tail wagging, was a very pleased German shepherd, Vic. It took some time before I could encourage other Police crews to visit Smith and Nephew’s store again.
Not long after this encounter Vic embarrassed me again, she had been taught to sit and watch while I spoke to people but allow them to proceed when told. About 2 a.m. one morning I stopped and interrogated a person who turned out to be a postman recently moved into a keeper’s cottage at the edge of the old aerodrome. After talking to him then saying good night I forgot to instruct Vic to stay at heel. Immediately he commenced to walk away Vic, as she had been taught, gave one leap and held the man’s right arm. Realising my mistake I at once told her to leave. The poor, frightened postman nearly went mad and it took a long time before I could persuade him not to complain to the Chief Constable, if he had, no doubt, “Yours truly” would have been in trouble for patrolling with an unauthorised dog. However, the postman and I frequently met after this incident, becoming good friends, as well as being a very good informant.
Basic Police Driving Course.
It was usual practice for all officers in the Force to attain certain standards before being allowed to drive different types of police vehicles, so before ending my first six months at Hunsdon I attended a standard five weeks course for beginners. It did not matter to the Instructors my previous experience covered various types of Army vehicles or that I had passed an Army Driving Instructors Course. I had to start at the bottom and do it the Police way. That meant displaying “L” plates and starting on a disused aerodrome that just happened to be Hunsdon. For the first two days that was very convenient as I got picked up at Hunsdon Aerodrome at 10 a.m. and left at about 4 p.m. making it a nice short, easy day. Being home early enabled me to cook the evening meal ready for Maria’s return from work at about 6 p.m. Also, I could carry out all the other small jobs such as feeding chickens and dog etc. The course continued and I must agree that Police driving was very different from Army driving. Instructions were given on an old square shaped Wolsley saloon that was very familiar to most Police Forces in the country.
1948 Wolseley KJH 293 with PC Ron Petts
One of our instructors was Wat Tyler [Wat is believed to be a nickname as he was PC Walter (Wally) Tyler Ed.] whom I consider was one of the best drivers I have ever driven with. His pet saying was, “Be in the right gear and at the right place at the right time.” He always was. It was a defensive type of driving but aggressive in as far as accelerating to get out of danger. One had to read the road and beyond by such things as the position of telegraph poles and trees round a corner, raise your driving position when approaching the brow of a hill or a bridge and register dangers by noting cold exhaust fumes, pedestrian’s feet under vehicles or partly open doors. Increase safety by giving a wide berth when passing junctions or parked cars. To ensure we kept to the speed limits, after two cautions a pupil would be fined a penny for every mile per hour over the limit. All fines paid for tea and cakes when we stopped for our breaks during morning and afternoon. To get us into thinking more quickly, pupils had to give a running commentary while driving, although it was not part of that particular course. Anyone trying this will at first find they are talking about things they have already passed; but as one looks and thinks further ahead the describing of things in advance comes into the correct sequence. Five weeks of driving and watching others drive, together with the instructor’s examples and useful comments no doubt helped me to keep a clean driving record, plus getting me out of awkward situations. Having completed the course and passing Grade five it allowed me to drive the less powerful and usual run abouts such as those now known as Panda cars.
The Case Of The Vanishing Tractor.
Returning to normal Beat duties covering the villages it was not long before a crime was reported. A fair number of ex-War Department vehicles were still in a compound on the aerodrome awaiting to be disposed of. The man responsible reported a tractor had been stolen, the vehicle being one of those the RAF used for various purposes. It was coloured the usual Air Force blue. Records kept of such items were not one hundred per cent reliable, so the report was not taken too seriously at the time, I made a wide search and kept my eyes open during my visits to farms. When on motor patrol covering surrounding parishes doubtful dealer’s premises were looked over without their knowledge but without results. The matter gradually died a natural death, or so I thought. Tractors did come up now and again with the locals but nothing of any significance was heard until the end of a conversation with an estate gamekeeper. As he walked away he said, “I see some people are building long hayricks these days.” After another few weeks while talking about hay with a farmer a similar remark was dropped, “Somewhere two ricks have become one.” For the next few weeks during darkness, I groped my way across fields and through farmyards examining ricks. Often farm dogs greeted me with snarling long teeth, possibly being warned by scent given off by Vic who always accompanied me.
An Electric Experience!
One dark tour after midnight a rick was checked situated on the far outskirts of my Beat, the approach to it seemed easy and to obtain a close view all that was required, or so I thought, was to negotiate a low single wire fence. Lifting the strand I went motionless, a strong shock went through my body as if I had been shot, a feeling very similar to when the shrapnel struck me during the War. However, instantly realising the wire was clinging to my bare hand I desperately shook it away but not before falling to the damp, frosty ground. As I gasped for breath, I realised I had foolishly grasped an electrified cattle fence, these normally were low voltage but frosty ground had made a good conductor. After a few minutes my body recovered especially after feeling the wet tongue of my faithful friend on my face. Full anger then took over, I would pull the damn farmer out of bed and let him have a piece of my mind and anything else I could think of – what regulations covered electricity – these I could not remember very clearly. When half way to the farmhouse calmness returned and I wondered how I could explain being a quarter of a mile from a public highway, technically a trespasser, but no, I could have been after night poachers. By now the pins and needles had left my body and it was feeling normal again. What were my real intentions? Look for a tractor and that was what I would do. After retracing my way back to the stacks, I was more thorough in finding a safe way inside the fence but searching was in vain. Picking up my cycle that had been left in a hedge I cycled back home full of thought vowing never to hold strands of wire again. Vic trotted along in front unconcerned not realising how good her wet tongue had felt when lying on the ground gasping.
Success.
My search continued for several more weeks until there was only one known stack left to check, this was located to the east of the disused Aerodrome and well inside my colleague’s adjoining Beat. As usual I looked around at night but this time it was bright moonlight so any likely dangers could be seen much easier. Arriving at the site the outlined shape of the rick had a distinct dip in the top centre where hay had gradually settled in the course of time. My search suddenly came to an end after Vic had decided there was something other than hay in the middle. Where she had dug her way in from the side, I penetrated in about ten feet, tunnelling along the ground until cold metal was felt. Shining my torch a blue painted tow-bar was visible. What satisfaction my efforts had been rewarded. Next day in company with the CID we took the farmer to the rick where his men had to uncover the tractor, it was obvious my scraps of information had been correct. The tractor had been driven in between the two large ricks then covered to make them look as one. Although charged with receiving and stealing, the farmer was found not guilty at his trial. Well, some you win and some you lose, at least I had recovered the stolen property.
With Maria still working our funds were increasing so this made it possible for us to have a spending spree, but I took the advice of an old Australian farmer who had returned to his birthplace of Widford, “Don’t buy new when you can get good second-hand.” His suggestion spread the money so that we were able to buy more and make our home a little more comfortable. A carpet for the sitting-room together with an Echo black and white television and a better table for the kitchen. The old two-wheel truck that I had constructed and used for wheeling cut grass and manure about the garden was replaced with a good wheelbarrow. In addition, a mower was obtained cheaply so, in future, it was not necessary to beg and borrow the use of one owned by Charlie Vigus next door. So, we slowly made progress during our first couple of years in the country.
Tug Of War.
During 1951 I was asked to join the Force’s tug-of-war team, this entailed doing plenty of team training. At these training sessions I got to know some good friends including a PC Burch [PC 383 Arthur William (known as Bill) Burch Ed. ] who was stationed at Ware. He usually picked me up and conveyed us to Bishops Stortford where “A” Division Team did its training. We took part in a number of competitions and won a few cups. As I had to carry out some duties in Ware and motor patrol duties with Bill Burch, we became good pals.
The Greedy Pea Thief.
Sometime during the summer of 1951, I received a telephone message from the squire of Easney Hall, Stanstead Abbots, who was a generous man and always assisted in organising public fetes and collections for charity. He had great difficulty in asking me to take some action against a local Wareside man who was always poaching but who had extended his activities to stealing bags of peas and selling them. The Squire had already insured a message had indirectly been received by the culprit to the effect that, if the thieving continued, action would be taken. The thief had not taken heed of the warning, so I was the last resort. My information called for an early start, so one bright morning found me sitting in a hedge bordering a field full of peas, half way between Ware and Wareside. At about the expected time my quarry cycled merrily down the hill, whistling away, no doubt thinking of the spoils he was about to collect. On reaching the bottom of the hill he dismounted and placed his well equipped cycle against a tree well out of sight from road users. His machine had often been used for such expeditions and at the front was fixed a carrier similar to a trade-cycle. At the rear was another carrier with a box attached in which a small terrier used to sit when out on his poaching trips.
Watching the thief from my concealed position he quickly crept along the rows of peas until reaching a spot not more than thirty yards from me. A sack containing a number of others was placed on the ground, taking a sack he rolled the top down so the peas could be easily and quickly inserted inside after picking them. At the time he commenced picking I glanced at my watch, 5.05 a.m., his rapid action continued 6.20 a.m., 6.45 a.m., by this time he had half-filled three sacks. Would he ever stop? At 6.50 a.m. he appeared to be satisfied with his efforts but, before picking up the sacks, he tied them all up at the rolled neck. It was time for me to move, so as he walked towards his bike, I caught him up from behind and tapped him on the shoulder. The expression on his face when he turned round could not be described but you could imagine. So far, I had not decided whether or not to arrest him, the Squire was leaving that up to me. Before insisting he continue to carry, what was later established to be 80 lbs of peas, routine was kept to. He was searched thoroughly and in his pockets, I found a number of pay packets that established his trade was a scaffolder. The amounts shown on the pay-packets I cannot remember but it indicated he was one of the best paid tradesmen, in fact, at that time it was four or five times my wages. From our conversation it came to light he had been completing similar daily excursions for the previous three weeks, taking a load to his various sites and selling to lorry drivers. It was our conversation in the middle of the pea field and result of the search that made up my mind what action should be taken. He laboriously carried his load across the field then tied it to the front carrier of his cycle. After several attempts he realised the load was too heavy to safely ride, greed was slowly coming home to roost. I followed while he pushed his cycle and load all the four miles through Ware Town Centre to the Police Station where he was charged and bailed. Appearing at court our thief was fined very heavily after the bench was given full details of his earnings and previous convictions. For the next seven years while I was at Hunsdon we had no further trouble from our illegal pea-picker.
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