(I) Oswald John Thorne - Promotion To Sergeant.

Moving To Hemel Hempstead.

During the summer of 1958 the long awaited message was received. Report to the Chief Constable’s office. I told Maria where I had got to go, that made her just as excited as I was. The journey to Welwyn Garden City seemed endless and all I could think about was where was the Thorne family moving to. With newly made Sergeants it was usually to a Divisional Station where the Officers could keep an eye on newly promoted Sergeants. All the large towns in Hertfordshire went through my mind. I didn’t think much of such places as Stevenage or Hatfield they were not my cup of tea. Arrival at HQ saw me nervously reporting to the CC’s general office. The HQ Sergeant showed me to a seat outside the “Big Man’s” office, (he was big.) I waited and waited. When I eventually did go in, he was dashing about looking at all manner of things, including all the day’s newspapers. At last he got around to me. “I’ve got to tell you,” then he broke off and looking at a small sheet at paper, he started again. “Are you Thorne?” On answering “Yes.” He replied, “I’ve got to tell you that you are to be promoted, would you like that?” Before responding something in my head almost caused me to say, “What do you think I’ve been waiting for!” However, my spoken answer was something like, “Yes please.” He asked me if I knew where I was going, realising I didn’t know, he replied that I would be told in the office on my way out. Entering the adjacent office, the Sergeant who met me on my early arrival, congratulated me and indicated that I was to be transferred on promotion to Hemel Hempstead. That meant I couldn’t put my Sergeants stripes on or be paid until my arrival at the new Station. Hemel Hempstead was generally known as “Treacle Bunstead,” and was another new town, a London over spill town.

Riding back to Hunsdon I was on a cloud, walking into our house, the bundle of Sergeants stripes was thrown onto the table. On telling Maria it was “Treacle Bunstead” she immediately looked in the Police Almanac to satisfy herself where it was. After keeping up the joke for a few minutes, I had to tell her that I was joking, the almanac was immediately thrown at me. No date had been fixed for the actual move, about a week or ten days was normal but we must have been lucky as it was three weeks before our possessions were loaded into the removal van.

Letter of thanks from Hunsdon Parish Council.

Those three weeks were somewhat hectic. My henhouse, hens and all other equipment were quickly sold, unfortunately for far less than they were worth. It was not long before the removal firm left us numerous tea chests for packing our items. It was necessary for us to visit Hemel Hempstead to see the house we were about to occupy. It was actually in a quiet cul-de-sac 10, Haybourn Mead, Boxmoor, a village that had been engulfed into the new town, it was not in a location, however, that I would have chosen. The garden was small and on a slope which made it difficult to tend, in addition, the road leading to the Police Station had a very sharp steep hill, it was this hill that gave me the incentive to stop smoking as I found it was impossible to cycle up it. The twins and Tony couldn’t quite understand what was going on. The twins grasped what going to another school meant, but as regards moving house they thought that it was the house that was being moved! They hadn’t visited Boxmoor when we did, so until our furniture was being unloaded they were in a bit of a daze. We saved Tony the uncertainty having conveyed him to Garston to stay with Nana and Grampy. We had followed the van in our car, Maria, the twins and Vic. When we got to the region of Hemel Hempstead the girls were kept quiet looking at such a large town. The house we were to occupy at Boxmoor being one of about a dozen in the cul-de-sac were so close together the neighbour’s front door could be touched as one walked up to our front door. These houses had been built by the New Town Commission, four had been allocated to the Police Authority. An unusual feature of these houses was that the ceilings had been constructed of a layer of thick concrete. We soon settled in, the girls started at the new school of South Hill and myself at the new Police Station. A fresh period in my life was about to start. Never did I think that when on night duty, after midnight, I would be a lone Sergeant responsible for over one hundred thousand people as well as everything else that occurred. This was what was meant by throwing one in at the deep end as a member of the thin blue line. With ten year’s service and newly promoted, I received the princely sum of ten pounds a week. We would open the pay envelope and Maria would still place the appropriate amounts of cash in the typewriter ribbon tins she started using ten years before.

The new shift system had to be got used to, night shift never suited me, as I had difficulty sleeping during the day. It took until the end of the week to get any reasonable length of slumber. As soon as I was used to it, one had to change to late shift and that shift was always when the most complicated things seemed to occur. However, that late shift always had plenty of Senior Officers on duty, so guidance was not far away.

We all got involved with numerous missing persons, including children, it was taken for granted that people over eighteen years could look after themselves. For those less than that age, especially children under eight, enquiries were quickly set in action and thorough searches made. Not a week went by without a child being reported missing, in most cases the reason turned out to be a disagreement with their parents. To get the truth out of the child was often as difficult as questioning a hardened criminal.

Unruly Youths.

At about this time on a Saturday, when the Pubs had turned out, we were called to a disturbance in the Old Town where a few lads had had too much beer and wanted to fight everybody. As usual we were outnumbered for a time, but we coaxed most to disperse, just one youth wanted to remain and argue. As the shouting continued the Police Dog van pulled up unnoticed by most. Like all Police Dog vans it was divided down the centre enabling two dogs to be carried separately, but in this case, only one dog was being carried. With a nod by the dog handler, he and I grabbed the rather unruly and noisy youth, throwing him headfirst into the empty side of the van, with only the wire netting between him and the snarling German Shepherd dog. Such dogs are not the quietest at the best of times and to have someone of the non-canine world lying next to him, smelling of alcohol made him try to make voice to the whole of Hemel Hempstead. For good measure the dog’s fangs were close to the dividing wire. The previously noisy youth fell suddenly silent, cowering close to the side of the van he scarcely moved. A few of his mates were in sight. Walking towards them I shouted, “Move, or you go in with him!” Within minutes the bad behaviour and noise ceased. The poor encaged youth was released without a word! Once again the “Ways and Means Act” had paid off.

A Murdered Colleague And Other Deaths.

A similar incident occurred within a few days, when a fight broke out and one of our PC’s was struck on the head and later died in hospital. The culprit, a local “tea leaf,” was arrested and charged with the Murder. The charge was later reduced due to the results of the post mortem showing that the unfortunate PC had an unusually thin skull. This was typical of Police work, two similar incidents, but one resulting in the unduly early death of a colleague.

[On the 29th November 1958 PC Francis (Frank) Edwin Hulme was assaulted during a violent struggle when he intervened in a street affray at Hemel Hempstead shortly afterwards he collapsed and subsequently died. Ed.]

PC 581 Francis Edwin Hulme

Within weeks I had two more incidents of sudden death, the first was a body in the River Lee in Gadesbridge Park. On this occasion it was not difficult to remove the deceased from the water and the contents of his pockets made identification easy.

However, the next death by drowning, about a week later, caused me to have a swim. I was Shift Sergeant at the Police Station when a telephone message was received telling us that a man had just been seen running across Boxmoor Heath towards the canal in the direction of the Heath Park Hotel. As there was very little evidence of intended suicide we did not rush to the scene. When we arrived there were crowds lining the canal bank due to a cricket match on the Moor. On reaching the canal bank a body, presumably a male, was in the process of floating down the canal. A bystander told us that the Fire Brigade had been called to attend with appropriate equipment to recover the body. The tender arrived but I could not believe that it had no grappling hook long enough to reach the centre of the canal. As I lived nearby and the weather was warm I quickly drove home, put my swimming trunks on and then returned to the scene. It was easy enough to reach the body and tow it to the bank, but the assistance required in the form of the Fire Brigade had disappeared. All the onlookers standing nearby appeared to have a fear of touching the dead body so left me to struggle, pulling it up the bank on my own. Later experience in the Traffic Division taught me how to get assistance from any sightseers. Make use of what’s immediately available.

A Busy Time.

I had settled down to the new routine and got used to delegating tasks out to the numerous Officers that included Area Car crews and outstation men. The number of incidents taking place each day was quite staggering after the quiet country life. Fights, car thefts, burglary, assaults and rapes; no Saturday went past without fights taking place at a good number of Pubs. Usually the same groups of men in the same licensed premises were found drunk, those residing in the vicinity were coaxed and guided to their homes. That part of the “Ways and Means Act” saved paperwork and allowed the small number of officers available to be released for other more important tasks. It was after the Pubs turned out that accidents appeared to become more prevalent, resulting in either injuries or worse, but nearly all drink related. Approximately eighty per cent of injury and death accidents are caused by drink. Although Constables usually made the arrest, Sergeants had the job of attending and giving guidance or instructions. I am sure that the most important rank in any Force is that of a Sergeant.

Moving House Again.

One day the Superintendent called me up to his office. Dicky Dale [Superintendent 243 Frank Theophilus Dale Ed.] was a very persuasive man, he told me that there were four new Police houses just completed at Gadebridge, part of the New Town. Would I like to move into one? There was only one big snag, we had to pay for our own move. He gave me and three other Sergeants twenty four hours to decide, so the four of us got together and it was suggested that we asked the Governor if we could use the Police van. The other three voted me as representative to request the use of a van. After some thought Dicky gave us permission, albeit unofficially. Our makeshift furniture van was a good size, but we had to make many journeys to transport the large quantity of furniture owned by four Sergeants. We got together, loading and unloading the furniture. To complete the job, it took four of us four days hard work, assisted by our families, still it didn’t cost us or the Police Force anything. By the end of the week all four families had settled in to four new three bed roomed houses with garages attached. A small shopping centre was two minutes away and schools for all our children were within ten minutes walk. Our rear outlook, beyond a reasonable sized garden, overlooked a school’s large playing field.

We had no sooner got accustomed to our new home when the telephone in my office rang, again it was Superintendent Dale, “Come up and see me.” Up the golden stairs I went, knocking on his door! He always looked at you and waited a bit before speaking. “I know that you have only just moved but what do you think about being the Tring Sergeant?” Oh dear, how I would like a place where I was in charge, just me plus a group of Constables and outstation men. My brain just did not work, after standing speechless for what seemed like ages he said, “You don’t seen very keen. I think you had better leave it this time.”

If I had said “Yes,” how could I tell Maria after all her hard work making curtains and other things necessary for 26, Coles Hill, or contemplate moving the children to another school. It was, however, mentioned to her as just an afterthought. Maria was obviously not very interested her thoughts being concentrated on completing the children’s uniform for their new school. The rejecting of the Tring posting by me turned out to be a major decision in which the direction of my career was to take for the next twenty years.

A Foreign Holiday.

In June 1963 we decided to take a holiday on the Continent, my old Ford car, although still very reliable was a little small to contain our increased growing family. The replacement was an Austin A40, a much larger car inside and with a large covered in boot to carry our luggage. It was on a Saturday evening when Maria was scanning the Daily Telegraph that she saw an advertisement for a vacant Swiss chalet, located on the shores of Lake Brienz. We soon costed it out and believed the channel crossing, petrol and oddments could be covered by £120. A decision was made and within the month we were off. Money was saved in various ways, mostly by purchasing cheap petrol in certain countries. The tank was filled up in Dover, none was purchased in France as it was dear there but it was necessary to coast (free wheel) down a few hills, this coasting was a method frowned upon by Police Driving Instructors. Our luck was in as we managed to keep to a petrol target.

We all had a very enjoyable holiday, everyone revelling in the snow, especially on the top of Brienz Rod-horne, a high mountain where a rack railway took us to the summit. There, by coincidence, we met a legless youth from Hemel Hempstead who was a member of the Motoring Club. Our family were so exhausted after a fortnight that included much physical effort, that they slept most of the way home through Switzerland and France. We managed the return journey in one day, taking a night crossing as it was cheaper. About 4 a.m. the boat arrived in Dover, so after driving a few miles a quiet spot along a lane beckoned us for a few hours sleep. Most of us sleeping in a makeshift shelter made from freshly bailed hay, one shelter for the twins, one shelter for Maria and I, leaving Tony sleeping in the car.

The M1 Motorway.

The first Motorway in the country, the M1, was now under construction, prior to this, plans had suggested a St. Albans by-pass. St Albans was often blocked by the A5 traffic so the M10 was incorporated in the plans. One afternoon I received a wireless call to attend an accident on the M1 near the A5 Friars Wash Junction. It was a bit puzzling as the new Motorway was not due to be opened for several months. When I did eventually arrive at the scene it was actually on the partly constructed new North bound carriageway. A heavy construction lorry had been reversing to unload eighteen tons of dry-lean concrete when a Herts County Supervisor, who was guiding the driver back, stumbled on the rough, uneven ground, being an unusually heavy man he was unable to get up before the double axel rear wheel went over him. Although I didn’t know it then, that was the first fatal accident which “Yours truly” was to attend on that road during the next eighteen years.

Losing Vic.

Poor Vic did not like Boxmoor or Gadebridge very much, at Hunsdon she was not restricted as the large garden and open fields at the back gave her so much freedom, plus being with me on duty kept her active. At Hemel Hempstead she could not accompany me on duty and so she was on her own for a lot of the time, especially as Maria had started part time work at Rotax, where she was employed by the Air Ministry on classified documents and translating from Russian, German and Polish.

On arriving home after duty one day, I was to find my poor faithful friend, Vic, was ill, not eating and continually sick. Several visits to the Vet established that she had a growth and for days I watched her getting worse until I decided that she should not suffer any longer. To lose her was as bad as the loss of a comrade during the War, she had been with me during numerous scrapes and, no doubt, had saved me time and again from injury. For hundreds of miles, she had run beside my cycle, or searched out many places for me over the years at Hunsdon, always there when required. On more than one occasion it was her warm, wet tongue on my face I felt first after being knocked unconscious. My children’s friend too, never leaving them when they were small especially when they wandered alone over the fields at the back of our house a sharp whistle and it was not long before she would appear and take me to them. On the whole she had had a good and enjoyable life, but it was with a heavy heart I took her to the Vet for the last time when, with my arms around her, I managed to hold her until the injection took effect and she went limp. I bade her farewell and returned home alone.

More Training.

To break up the normal routine I attended a course at Chelmsford, Essex for newly promoted Sergeants. Courses of various sorts were run by neighbouring Forces who specialised in different subjects. Hardly had I returned from Chelmsford before I was journeying to Hatfield to attend an advanced driving course, another three weeks tuition at the County’s expense. The Driving Instructors were excellent and their skills and advice were, in later years to save me from many a tight situation. After attending so many courses I thought courses were due to came to an end, but not so. Back to Hatfield I went for a heavy weight motorcycle course, it was really an upgrading course because my motorcycling experience included riding similar motor bikes in the army, and the lightweight machine used for the later three years at Hunsdon. This course came to a peak when at 9 a.m. on the last Friday the Instructor told us to get our machines ready for our long run. Leaving at about 10.15 a.m. our journey was to be flat out for the Severn Bridge. At 1 p.m. we stopped at a cafe for a break and refreshments. Before our group went inside the Instructor said, “Look over the hedge.” To our astonishment there was our target – the Severn Bridge. That journey was the most hair-raising of my life. The number of bridges we went over with the bike wheels leaving the road surface I lost count of. During my next tour of nights, and when I had time to think quietly, I put two and two together, all the courses attended had one thing in mind, the Traffic Divisions.

Such a Division had been talked about at HQ for some time. As soon as the night shift was completed, as usual I changed over to a late shift 2 to 10. I had hardly completed the briefing parade when I was summoned by telephone, once again, to see the Superintendent. He was quicker starting to talk this time, the subject concerned a visit to Hertfordshire by members of the Swiss Police Force. My task was to escort them to various Divisions where they would have British Policing methods explained to them. During their visit I was invited on an exchange to Zurich from where they policed an autobahn. This was great news as it meant we, the family, could combine it with a holiday in Switzerland. On hearing the news Maria quickly wrote to Brienz for a fortnights stay. From then on she was gradually preparing clothes for our second visit. Up to this time I still did not know if I was likely to be connected with our new motorway.

A Trip To Switzerland Combining Work And Pleasure.

The following summer saw us setting out again to Switzerland, cash availability was a little better this time, so we did not have to keep our eye on the petrol gauge quite so much! On the way across France I was surprised to see one of my officers, PC Marlin and family approaching in his Vauxhall, obviously making for the French Channel port at the end of his leave. While at Brienz I contacted Officer Zimmerman at Zurich, the Swiss Police Officer who was to be my escort. After our meeting and about to have lunch on the first day he asked me if I had flown before, after confirming I had, he arranged a second day when he took me to an airfield where he gave me quite a surprise. Escorting me to a light aircraft he explained the Swiss Police always had aircraft on hire for such occasions and was used as part of their policing. As soon as we had taken off he established from me that Maria and family were at a swimming pool in Interlaken. Zimmernan was a qualified Police pilot who often flew aircraft to America. It was not long before he headed for Interlaken flying along valleys with huge mountains on each side and where autobahns passed over lakes, then suddenly disappeared into the side of mountains. Interlaken was easily picked out as it was located at the centre of two lakes, Brienz and Thun. We circled the area where I could clearly see Maria and the children waving to us from the side of the swimming pool having been pre warned as to my forthcoming adventure.

During the rest of my visit I was shown accidents being dealt with. At that time it was Swiss law that forbade any vehicles involving injury to be moved after an accident until all had been photographed in situ. This appeared to be a little out of date to me, however the photographs I saw clearly showed dead bodies still in mangled wrecks of vehicles. I considered this procedure caused too many long queues and I thought that our planned accident procedure could avoid most long hold-ups. Various equipment was inspected, where I thought it was worthy of further consideration details were taken back with me; the equipment and procedures were later put into use. Two very interesting days with the Swiss Traffic Police quickly passed and they returned me back to Brienz where we all continued our holiday.

Each day we toured various areas and managed to keep the children entertained. Lots of our time was spent swimming or climbing small mountains. On one of these occasions another coincidence occurred. Maria stayed with the car and when most of us were halfway up a mountain we heard the faint sound of a car horn, looking below us I could see a red Mini car with people standing near, waving. It could only be one person with that colour and type of car, Sergeant Peter Chapman, I knew that he was taking his holiday when we were, so our group quickly made our way down the mountain to have a chat with Chappy and his wife.

Motorway Policing.

I had been told that the M1 and M10 Motorway was to be my responsibility when it opened in the September, but in August, whilst rushing down the steep curved polished stairs from the Superintendent’s office I slipped causing me to fall down about half of the stairs. As I slipped a sharp crack was heard, when trying to get up the pain in my right ankle was excruciating making me cry out. Unable to stand it became obvious that my destination was the Casualty Department at West Herts Hospital, where I was to have the pleasure of first meeting with Dr. Saudeck, a real butcher, but a damn good Doctor. Leaving the hospital with many pounds of plaster round my ankle made it impossible to walk, so my colleagues conveyed me home in the old Police van. Little did I realise that the injury would keep me away from my new Motorway job. Sergeant Joe King [PS 467 Joseph Bertie King Ed.] took on the newly formed Traffic Department temporarily. After two months it was possible for me to move about fairly well, but I could not understand why my superiors would not allow me to perform my new job. About three months later my query was answered, not only was it necessary to be fit, but able to run like a hare and jump like a stag. One had to realise that with no speed limit at that time, something travelling at 100 mph, covered a long distance in a short time. Finally, I started the new job and was responsible for the Hertfordshire section of the M1 and M10 for twenty four hours a day. I had to get used to being called out during the night, it always seemed to be so dark, especially without lights on such a modern road. When travelling up hills lorries continually ran into the rear of others and having no motorway lights was a contributory factor. In addition there being no central barrier this allowed more cross over accidents which were fatal, due to a combined impact of possibly 160 miles an hour.

Sgt. Oswald Thorne in his role as a Traffic Officer

It was not long before regular visits were made to HQ Training Dept to give talks in Accident Procedure and Traffic Law. My experience of dealing with accidents was soon made use of. Not only did I train future Traffic and Motorway Officers, but also lectured students at Dacorum College and AA personnel. Police Officers from Hampshire, Essex, Warwickshire and other Forces visited Hemel Hempstead for Motorway training as more Motorways were constructed. Our own A1 (M) was later built by-passing Stevenage and other small towns. Practical accident drill was given to many officers who, it was thought, may be called upon to perform duty on this new type of road, especially to assist in dealing with multiple accidents which were expected.

Motorway Training on the A1(M) c.1967

During the course of the next few years my experiences were endless, the Motorway was making headlines week after week, nearly every morning my Traffic Superintendent telephoned to find out what had occurred during the previous twenty four hours. He in turn would inform the Chief Constable. Never, I believe, has a road been such a political issue, for example, early one morning a tracked construction vehicle had to be moved across both carriageways near Berry Grove Junction, which at that time was the end/start of the road. During the moving of the machine it was necessary to stop the flow of traffic for a short time. In that holdup I remembered seeing a Rolls Royce in the queue. Later that morning the Chief Constable telephoned and asked what happened earlier in the day as the Minister of Transport had received notification of a question to be asked later that day in the House at Commons – “Why had the Motorway been closed?”

A Multi Vehicle Accident.

The following winter was to be my first baptism of fire, in fact, in a Motorway fog. It started one morning on the northbound carriageway in the area of the A5 junction and crashes continued at intervals well into Bedfordshire. A total of well over one hundred vehicles were damaged and hundreds more involved, including anything from motorcycles, private cars and up to thirty ton petrol tankers. These conditions gave us the chance to put our plans for such major incidents into practice. All entry roads were closed and this caused chaos to all the adjoining road systems, it was obvious that all the available breakdown vehicles would be put to the test, but we found all these private breakdown firms co-operated well. By closing the Motorway it prevented further tail end accidents occurring. A huge number of Police Officers, some new to Motorways, attended to take details, this stretched resources to the limit. Thankfully not too many people were injured, but on this occasion enough for ambulance crews to gain some experience in such incidents.

As can be imagined, when all damaged vehicles had been towed away the paperwork started. This necessitated sending letters and questionnaires to dozens of other Forces requesting statements to be taken from drivers and witnesses, plus all details of licences, insurance and various documents. With so many vehicles being involved it was certain some other offences would be disclosed. When a file was complete it averaged about ten foolscap sheets, plus a report book and plans. We had hardly got the paperwork completed and Court cases started before another multiple occurred, again on the northbound carriageway. I attended driving a white Ford Zephyr estate with PC Geoff Kent as an observer, we preceded North with great care knowing the carriageway was blocked ahead, the density of the fog caused us to travel at less than thirty miles an hour. Under these conditions with our blue light flashing we were rapidly overtaken by cars travelling at least fifty miles per hour. On seeing this we both gave hand signals for them not to overtake, but they still drove past us like hell into a white unknown. Once again, questions were asked in the House of Commons as to why fog signs were not out, Mr Marples, the Minister of Transport, described our journey to the scene and said, “When one is in fog you don’t have to be told you are in it?”

A Ford Zephyr Farnham Estate

Alleged But Ultimately Unsubstantiated Misconduct.

Following this second multiple, and while in the process of clearing up, the driver of an articulated lorry was told to stay with his load that he had off loaded on to the hard shoulder, this enabled the damaged lorry to be towed away. Drivers are responsible for their own lorries and loads. I, together with a Police car crew, left the scene to complete the paperwork. Two days later a letter was received from a well known dried fruit firm claiming the cost of the load from the Police as the owners could not trace it, and if it could not be traced by Police they would have to record it as stolen. There was a suggestion that Police had stolen it, I therefore had no option but to send the report higher, so the letter was handed over to my Superintendent. He, in turn, forwarded it to HQ where the CID trouble shooters took over. At least a dozen Traffic Officers were classed as suspects, including myself. It was generally known that any suspected Police Officer was treated more severely than ordinary members of the public, all the PC’s being interrogated and their houses searched. My house and family were the last to be dealt with. The Chief Superintendent and Inspector questioned me for three hours, my house was searched, including the loft, pantry and garage. One partly used carton of fruit was found in the pantry, this caused Maria to be questioned for half an hour. I couldn’t say where it came from because Maria always did the shopping, she said later the questioning was as bad as when she was last treated that way in Germany. At one stage they questioned my children but what was said to them I didn’t know. As time went on some of the stolen cartons were traced to a garage in Bedfordshire, but for my family and I, or the other members of my crews, no apologies were given. It took all of us some time to get over the upheaval, the scares one gets on the Motorway are enough without being accused of theft or misconduct.

Fatal Crash Involving A Traffic Car.

The location of the dried fruit incident was near many other hair raising incidents that occurred; in the area of the A5. Two I remember well. It started with about ten damaged vehicles just over the A5 junction southbound, all except a Volkswagen saloon that had been left mainly in the centre reservation and traffic was flowing freely past it. To allow for a breakdown vehicle to get into position to tow off the Volkswagen it was necessary to close the outside Lane, firstly, by coning it off, then placing out two “Accident” and two “Slow” signs over a distance of eight hundred yards. The Police car was then placed within the coned off area with a blue flashing light and finally the breakdown vehicle with an amber flashlight was placed in position in front of the broken down Volkswagen.

At the time of the accident I was at the Motorway Office at the Junction with the Hemel Hempstead turn. A report was received, through the radio, of a Police car being involved in an accident at the A5 Junction. I immediately attended the scene and saw a mini saloon had passed all signs and lights, passing through the coned off area and colliding with the rear of the Humber Police car, knocking it a hundred yards.

Humber Super Snipe at night on the M1

What a scene! It was as bad, if not worse than any I had seen. This mini car contained six critically injured or dead occupants. The steam coming out of the window space was caused by the vast quantities of escaping blood. In the damaged rear of the Police car a blood drenched bundle of clothes, also steaming, contained the dead body of a young baby that had been thrown from the Mini car into the Police estate car. PC Maxwell [PC 731 John Maxwell Ed.], a crew member, was found placing further warning signs and flares to warn the still fast approaching drivers. It must be remembered at that time the motorway had no street lights, making work very difficult on a very dark night, thus the use of flares. A further worry was to descend on me? Where was PC Rutter [PC 238 Victor Howard Rutter Ed.], the other member of the crew? PC Maxwell had not seen him for some time. Thoughts going through my head were of the worst imaginable, he also could be lying dead somewhere. I had tried so hard to get my crews to be safety conscious and not put their own lives at risk. Very shortly my anxiety was relieved a little when a vehicle stopped and PC Rutter alighted, returning from placing out more advanced flares and blue lamps. What a relief, all the traffic officers I had trained still held a hundred per cent record free from injury.

PC 731 John Maxwell

PC 238 Victor Howard Rutter

We could now get down to the main problem, an ambulance had arrived and together the gruesome interior of the mini was sorted out, of six passengers, three were dead, further ambulances arrived and their crews dealt with the dead and injured. The road and advanced signs were cleared and the scene was left. Motorists then passing could not have any idea of what had occurred a short time earlier, however, the last distasteful task had still to be done, relatives had to be informed. My journey to West Watford cannot be clearly remembered as my mind was in a constant whirl. The occupants of the Mini were all from one family, so that saved having to go through the trauma more than once. This accident up to that time was the largest and the most serious that had occurred so next day, to satisfy HM Coroner, he had us place out all the warning equipment we had used for his inspection.

To break up this hectic life I was leading, it was thought necessary for me to take part in firearms assignments. From time to time dangerous prisoners were transferred from one prison to another, so the new dangerous inmates could not get to know other prisoners or surroundings too well. On such occasions I found myself strapping on a 0.45 revolver to my waist and escorting prison vehicles and their occupants to various locations, but usually they were only escorted across the county, being handed over at the county borders.

A Murder Suicide.

During the winter months and as usual it was during darkness on the M1 southbound. I was making a conference point meeting with a crew at Pepperstock, A6 Junction, the border with Bedfordshire. I was riding my motorcycle, and being a cold night, the crew invited me to sit in the rear seat of their car to get warm. We had not been in the comfort of the car interior long before a radio message came through to Tango 7, the car I was sitting in. A Ten Two (Accident) on southbound, south at the A5, accident at over bridge with Redbourne Road. Quickly leaving the patrol car and getting astride my machine the cold air soon blew my sleepiness away. Tango 7 proceeded me when no sooner had we left Pepperstock it commenced snowing, thankfully it was only a shower that had stopped by the time of my arrival at the scene. On approaching the concrete bridge pillar I saw there was a completely smashed and almost unrecognisable shell of a car, it was about half its normal length and width. Amongst this wreckage was a mangled dead body of the only occupant, a male. A quick inspection of the scene almost certainly established only one vehicle was involved. Experience of high speeds on the Motorway had taught me to visually examine the road at very great distances in advance of the point of impact, on this occasion the engine was fifty yards further south, away from its original car body, this great distance indicated how high the speed had been when striking an immovable concrete object. The bridge was located almost at the bottom of a gradual decline, leading North from the bridge support were two tyre marks in the light covering of snow, which I followed for about a quarter of a mile. Viewing the position south indicated that the vehicle had been lined up from the third, or outside lane, crossing the centre and near side lanes before impact. We decided one of two things had occurred, either the driver had gone to sleep or he had driven his car into the bridge support deliberately. After recovering the crumpled index number plate and straightening it out so as to be legible we caused enquiries to be made in Essex, at the registered owner’s address. On the first visit to the premises the enquiring officer failed to get a reply. Some hours later another visit necessitated the premises being broken into. Inside the wife of the dead driver was found, murdered, yes, by our suicide driver. The showers of snow had helped me follow the tracks of our suicide driver. This was the beginning of a snowy period.

Poor Weather Conditions Persist.

The following heavy snow was so deep and treacherous at times it caused us to keep the motorway cars on the motorway, as it was impossible for us to drive them out of Hemel Hempstead valley. Fuel and oil were conveyed from Hemel Hempstead by our only high off the ground van. During this wintry spell, while patrolling south on the M10 I saw what appeared to be a pair of cats eyes in the snow on the north bound hard shoulder. Returning back along that carriageway where the bulldozers had piled the snow I stopped at the location where I thought the cats eyes had been seen. On leaving the car I discovered that the brownish object was a dog fox, closer examination revealed it was dead but standing upright in the running position in the snow. It had injuries to its head from which it had been struck by a vehicle while crossing the carriageway. On attempting to cross the piled up snow the injuries proved too much for it so it died in the running position. Placing the carcass in my vehicle for later disposal I continued home for my meal break. On arrival home, for a joke, the fox was placed in the rear garden still in a running stance, on a mound of snow, piled high. Tony quickly went to the back door and returned as fast as he went, reporting excitedly that there was a fox in the back garden. Our table was hurriedly vacated and the whole family lined up near the back windows, in the light of which we all watched. After the excitement had died down “Foxy” was left until the ground thawed out where he was allowed to rest, under the following years brussel sprouts.

Forming The Traffic Division.

Plans were going ahead to make a large Traffic Division to police all planned and new Motorways, plus other main roads in the county. A new traffic base had been included when a new Police Station was constructed at North Watford. To supervise the large number of extra men and vehicles three more Sergeants were transferred to the base. I was the only one of four Sergeants who supervised half the county for twenty four hours of the day. We still lived at Coles Hill, and I was being allowed to use a motorcycle for travelling.

Another Swiss Holiday.

Ruth decided to join us on our holiday to Switzerland. I and my family, motored to Brienz, this time in a new Morris. I was on a top Sergeant’s pay. Maria was still working and having plenty of documents to translate for the Ministry, this was no doubt due to the cold war. Ruth had been holidaying in Spain, she flew to Zurich and then by train to Interlaken, where we collected her at the station. Lake Brienz was a favourite swimming spot for our family, as the chalet we stayed in was on its shores. Some years later while looking at a magazine in my hairdressers, imagine my surprise on seeing a photograph of Maria, Ruth and one of the twins swimming in Lake Brienz.

Our journey back home was not the best we’d had, every few miles the engine of the new car kept cutting out and stopping. Several mechanics examined it at different locations, but every few minutes it would stop. These troubles caused us to miss several Channel crossing ferries. Not until we got back to England was the fault rectified by a BMC mechanic. A difficult fault to discover, the electric fuel pump had developed a hairline split in the diaphragm, causing the pump to lose pressure. After leaving Dover we were a long way behind schedule, so history repeats itself, once again seeing a field covered with straw bales we made ourselves temporary shelter for a few hours.

Cold War Training.

Having returned from holiday, instructions were waiting for me to attend a War Duty course at Cambridge. The Cold War was still on and with good foresight the Home Office thought a certain number of Police Officers, with country experience should know about Atomic warfare, fallout and damage caused by radiation expected with such an attack. Many of us concluded it was a hopeless task however Government experts worked on the basis that, if a few survived, those trained may be able to lead the rest. It was obvious that those who survived would have to live like moles for months. After seeing films of what could be expected with such a War, I went home at the end of the course very despondent.

Solving A Mystery.

Once again my experience was called upon to establish the cause of an accident on the Motorway; it baffled me for hours. It concerned a chemist and his wife from nearby Luton who were both fatally injured. They had been travelling south when their car, for some reason, went out of control, striking the end of the central crash barrier at the one mile emergency crossover point. After a thorough examination of the scene I established the car had first hit the central crash barrier approximately half a mile north of the main impact indicating that the vehicle was partly out of control for about a thousand yards, (established by paint marks from the car found on the crash barrier at the same height from ground level. Later proved by New Scotland Yard Forensic scientists.) When I first attended I saw the front offside tyre was completely deflated. It was of the tubeless type that had been in production for two or three years. Close examination traced a small round hole in the tread, and almost opposite another similar hole. First indication suggested a .22 rifle round had been fired into the tyre. Visiting the over bridges a location was found in the vicinity where a rifle could have been fired from. The tyre was sent to the original manufacturers, who after tests established a completely different story. They reported that there had been two punctures in the tyre at an earlier date, both repaired by inserting two lengths of rubber plugs through the casing after covering them with a rubber solution. These plugs had worn down during the normal wear of the tread and one had blown out while running on the uneven central reservation. The uneven surface and pressure had then forced the other plug out. This type of emergency repair kit was at once withdrawn by the manufacturer who replaced them with wedge-shaped plugs that could only be inserted from the inside of tubeless tyres, making it virtually impossible to be blown out from the inside. After receipt of this information I made enquiries at the local garage where the deceased regularly had his car serviced, there the young garage hand agreed that he had repaired the defective tyre. Many other defective repairs were traced and placed in safe custody. Scientists carrying out the tests established how long it would take for the tyres to deflate with one or two holes in it, and over what distance, this agreed with the evidence found on the road. At last I was satisfied that good road safety action had been taken.