Archie Greenshields, ex-police sergeant, was born in 1921. After being encouraged by a fellow prisoner of war to join the police force, he did so in 1946, retiring from the force after 26½ years service in 1973. Archie, together with his wife, Barbara, and three daughters, Jane, Julia and Barbara, was posted with the force in Littlehampton, Rustington, Worthing, Petworth, Bognor Regis and Chichester. Archie now summarises for us his feelings about police life: -

What sort of a policeman was I? A difficult question to answer, without sounding egotistical, but I must give the reader some indication. No Inspector Morse or even his erstwhile assistant, Lewis, and neither, hopefully, a 'Dixon of Dock Green' whom most policemen considered laughable. Many years ago now, when the TV programme topped the viewer's poll, I remember my friend Stanley Dodman claiming that each time he viewed an episode he was really thinking of me. His remark made me privately cringe.

The opportunity was given to me and to most constables, for a trial on CID duties and had a stint of three or four weeks as Aide. I hated every moment of it and knew right from the very beginning that it would not be my forte. Drawing the conclusion that to get good information from, and to encourage informants, one had to be a convivialist, enjoy a drink or two, and indeed spend a good deal longer in a bar than ever I had done in the past. That, I had no intention of doing.

The hours seemed to be much longer, and at the end of the evening no one had the temerity to leave the office before the Detective Inspector, having to pretend to laugh at his jokes however, repetitious in the telling. I suppose that is unfair because of his experience and, in kindness, will not divulge his name.

Being perfectly happy to carry out patrol work, which offered plenty to interest an enquiring mind, it seemed worthwhile. Mind you if the weather was inclement, cold, wet or windy, temptation was ever present to find a warm spot and a hot drink to make life easier. It was a poor policeman who was not aware where these could be obtained. It was also a poor policeman that might make the mistake by sheltering for these in a bake house on a wet night duty tour.

If, wearing the standard issue cape at the time he did so, then a dusting of flour on it would give the game away to a sergeant, who might then guess where his charge had been. I suppose in these days of supermarket bread the small bake houses no longer exist, but no doubt other oases exist that take their place.

I cannot recall having been involved in much serious crime, but, as a constable, one dealt with a variety of street and traffic offences as they were seen being committed. However, in the early days it was considered the done thing for a recruit to get one's name on the bottom of a report, to let the Superintendent know that you were doing what he had been trained for.

At one time in my service, whilst serving under one particular senior officer, a suggestion was made that a record was being maintained by him of the amount of offence reports that individual officers submitted. As a result, sections were encouraged to vie against each other. Of course, a complaint was made and that existence of a graph was denied.

Having had a good number of offences during my total service I can honestly say, that for as many offenders that were summoned, there were equally as many that were cautioned, and only the stroppy delinquents had the 'book thrown at them'.

Prevalent offenders in the earlier part of my service, included cyclists breaking the law, i.e. riding without lights, ignoring 'halt signs', riding two on a cycle, etc. Today it seems that cycling offences come very low down on priority lists and from the amount of offences you can witness, I would not be surprised if they never come to court.

There were fewer cars on roads than there are today and, as a result, accidents were fewer. In fact an accident was never an easy task with which to deal, with a lengthy written report, with detailed sketch plans to assist the supervisory officer. I believe that minor accidents these days are seldom reported.

I can remember offences that I had taken to court which, being of an uncommon nature, hit the local paper headlines. For example, a shop keeper (greengrocer) having a blind hanging over the footpath at less than the statutory height, and an offence brought under the Ecclesiastical Courts Justice Ace for desecrating a Vestry.

I recall a particularly serious case involving two thoroughbred dogs, considered to be dangerous after killing a huge amount of poultry and savaging a cow in calf. They were subsequently traced to their owner. The case went for appeal to Quarter Sessions after the owner was ordered to have them destroyed, and was successful in obtaining a reprieve.

It was a case where I took the photographs, developed and printed them, so I was able to use them in evidence and prove their legality as exhibits. What turned the case in the appellant's favour was a press photographer friend of mine, who took pictures of the two dogs. By a remarkable turn of speed the photos were produced in the defence which won the day for their owner.

Of course there were other more serious charges that were brought to book, a few indecent exposure charges, shoplifting and other larcenies. Even a burglary was satisfactorily dealt with. But one will never know how many were prevented just by presence alone, which, common sense tells us, that is good policing.

It was expected that constables visited every hotel and boarding to inspect the register and sign it to record that visit, but that procedure is well into the past. Gone too, are the days when a constable might be issued with a long list of previously held dog licence holders, and expected to visit each to ascertain if a dog was still kept. I wonder if, when a chimney catches fire, the police still enquire as to when it was last swept and, if not within six months, report the householder for summons? I doubt it.

The pay was not very high at the beginning and less than £6 per week when I started. That included 2'6d (22.5 pence) a week for boot allowance and later, when on detachment, a similar amount was allowed for the use of your own typewriter. It was well into the 1950's before a constable could reach the £1000 a year mark, and even at my retirement the lower ranks frequently grumbled that their salaries were insufficient.

As my service progressed and opportunities were given to us to attend courses and seminars, join debating societies, and give lectures during training sessions, I became more and more confident. Of course there were countless number of court appearances and inquests to give evidence, no easy task in the beginning, so I was able to speak in public in circumstances that, before joining the Force, I would never have been able to do. This was a major achievement for me, when I remember that, as a youth, I shivered with fright because when elected to lead prayers at boys' club meeting!

All that is behind me now and I give thanks for all the many advantages that were given to me that are seldom noted, and the skills that were taught that shall not be forgotten.

Everyone could take part in games, indoor or outdoor. One colleague held a British record and took part in an Olympic event at one time. Through the intervention of a life saving instructor sergeant, I overcame my fear of water and was taught, by him, to swim. During the late 1950's I even entered the Force's swimming gala, and eventually achieved a minor life saving award.

Subsequent to this, which was to me a remarkable achievement, I clambered down the stanchions of Worthing Pier one morning in an attempt to rescue a woman, only to discover that she had already drowned.

It was in every degree a career that offered itself to comradeship and a social life second to none. Friendships were made that have lasted throughout 20, 30 and 40 years, and I am confident that they will remain for the rest of my days.

Many have repeated the phrase, 'Once a Policemen - always a Policeman' and for the majority of us it can be a truism. Occasionally it is not and to illustrate, I will mention my dear friend Paul Barnes, who died so early in life. He did his level best to hide the fact that he had been a serving member of a police force once he left Sussex to live out his last years in Cornwall. Secretly he maintained a close interest and probed me for odd items of news, concerning former colleagues.

Through the auspices of social clubs within the Sussex Force, an annual Christmas get-together is arranged and in the past my wife and I have attended the local branch's Christmas Dinner. Much time is spent searching out many old colleagues, all of whom have aged, just like this writer has done, and names are the hardest to remember now, not the individual. Each year there must be fewer and fewer of us from 'the old Chief's time' as the younger members take their place.