Police Sergeant Archie Greenshields recalls the 1960's as a serving officer.

On 1st January 1968 the West Sussex Constabulary no longer existed and we were all members of The Sussex Police Force. Cap badges, lapel badges and helmet plates were yet to be exchanged, but were within a couple of months. Now I had about five constables to supervise, but not all would be on duty at one time due to rest days, annual leave and courses.

Some of my tour of duty would be taken up with visiting each on patrol, and at this time they were easier to locate within their beat area, as personal radios had now been issued. All accident reports, occurrence reports, offence and other standard reports had to be vetted and recommendations appended. Again, the sergeant's duties were full and varied, made even more so when a prisoner was brought in and charged.

Before a section was sent out on patrol, a sergeant had to ensure that each man was in possession of every item of information regarding local trouble spots, issued with summonses to serve, warrants that needed executing, or detailed to enquire about a particular matter, such as a stolen bicycle.

The complement of sergeants had individual responsibilities to look after to keep the station running smoothly. There had been a succession of senior officers running the small station and I remember working under Pat Heslin, Eric Littler, and especially Bert Barnet, whom I first knew at Littlehampton. But it was to be with Superintendent Bert Farrer, and two Inspectors, Brian Greenbridge and Brian Luxford that I was to work closely with in the final years of my service.

I should really have included in this record of my service that the Chief Constable, Captain Ronald Paterson Shaw-Wilson, retired in the spring of 1964. It was Mr Thomas Christopher Williams, who took over the force afterwards, promoted me and in 1968, presented my Long Service Medal for 21 years' service. The presentation took no longer than five minutes from start to finish, when about eight of the recipients formed up in his office and were kept waiting longer than the deed itself.

I read in the monthly newspaper, 'Patrol', that those qualifying for this medal nowadays, attend a much more illustrious ceremony, sometimes carried out with the High Sheriff of West or East Sussex presenting the medals, with sherry and a photo call laid on. Perhaps they think better of the rank and file now than in yesteryear.

Around this time, Bernie Shopland, a senior sergeant, retired from a job that was in effect a Station Sergeant. Whether or not he put in a good word for me I do not know, but I was offered the chance to take over his duties. I jumped at the chance, for it meant the end of late duties and hardly any hours during the evenings.

I was to be responsible for the lost and found property, the storage and disposal of unclaimed items, the collection of used uniforms and equipment and to ensure its return to HQ Stores. Also, to assist Inspector Luxford in the training of special constables, and to supervise the small contingent of traffic wardens. This last item took up little of the day anyway, the paperwork that these few men and women generated was not large, in spite of the view of the general public that they were constantly handing out tickets.

One man hardly had need to sharpen his pencil from one week to another. Never the less, wardens needed to believe they had the support of the Police who would back them in the many confrontations with the motorist who decided the warden was in the wrong.

I was beginning to take a more active part in the social activities of the sports club taking my turn as barman once a small clubroom had been constructed to the rear of the Police Station. Social evenings were held, a quiz night, parties for families' children at Christmas and even a type of pantomime entertainment.

A hot-drinks machine was hired from a catering firm and it was my job to maintain it, ensuring that it was stocked with the dry ingredients and plastic cups. It wasn't unknown for me to turn out on a rest day to top the thing up. The machine almost paid for itself and sometimes made a small profit. It was necessary at times to drive up to Barnham to a wholesaler to buy sugar, for the staff seemed to have very sweet teeth.

It will be noticed that I mentioned driving in the last paragraph. Now that I had passed my driving test, I was qualified to drive personnel vehicles and often used the Inspector's car. It was a Morris 1000 which I favoured, often driving it to Lewes Headquarters to deliver used uniforms. After discussion with my wife, Barbara, we purchased a second-hand Standard 8 at a cost, including tax and insurance, of £100.

It felt grand to be a car owner and I made tentative ventures further afield. The longest journey, and I suppose the first real one of any length, was to our daughter Julia's, graduation ceremony in Aberystwyth. It caused quite a laugh too, when Julia invited us to where she was staying in Germany, whilst she was on part of her degree course and had been teaching at a school at Bonn.

We visited the parents of a friend she'd made; an exchange student called Krista. Julia told them about our car, which they nicknamed 'die Toten Wiesel'. Never mind being a dead weasel, it got us around, even if I quite often had to pull rank and get someone to get it started when the weather was damp.

My father died on 25th May 1968. He had not been at all well for over a year and had had one major operation for bowel cancer. It progressively worsened until he was mercifully released.

Once or twice a month during the winter, there were training periods for the special constables, held in the old decontamination rooms, built for the War, but taken over as a parade room. On these evenings Inspector Luxford and I coached them and arranged their volunteer duties. In spite of the mixed feelings held by some members of the regular force, these worthy volunteers did a worthwhile job. They were extremely useful to assist at special events such as carnivals, in the control of traffic and crowds.

One young man was so keen that he often performed a whole night duty accompanying a constable, having a particular rapport with many of the younger members of the regular force of his own age group.

When a new member was recruited, before he was kitted out, I had to arrange for him to be presented to a Magistrate to swear an oath of allegiance. I recall taking a prospective 'special' to Magistrate Frank Phillips, a retired railwayman, very well liked and very pro-police. Mr Phillips asked for me the New Testament, but I had forgotten. So I produced a pocket diary that looked very much like a Testament and gave it to the special, who did not give it a second glance.

The oath was taken and as far as I was concerned it was no different than any other, the solemnity, belief, and the intentions to maintain the promises made by the swearer were, I am sure, maintained in spite of the subterfuge.

Barbara and I regularly arranged whist drives at the Club House, and together, managed to get sufficient funds after a small grant from the sports club to be self-sufficient for the rest of the season. The evenings attracted officers and wives from Chichester and proved to be very popular. Barbara and I went into town before the evenings and carefully chose prizes that varied on each occasion. On the evening set, I arranged the tables, cards, raffle, etc., and Barbara, who never played, looked after the refreshments.

The Christmas event was quite a gala affair and Barbara did them proud with her homemade mince pies. These evenings were maintained until I retired and on the very last one that we held, we were given presentations and speeches of thanks. I for one was sorry to have to stop arranging these, but Barbara was put under a strain with all the other activities she was involved in. Besides which she was working as a Welfare Assistant at a local school and before that had been teaching at the William Fletcher
School.

The girls were growing up fast and were now young women. Barbara was the first to fly the nest and had married in 1971 and was working in Surrey. Jane was following up a career and working in the Pathology Laboratory in a Chichester hospital. Julia about this time graduated with Honours from a university in Aberystwyth.

After completing 25 years service and qualifying for a pension of 50% of my salary, at 50 years of age with hopefully many more years of earning a salary still left, it is only natural that I should begin to think of the future after leaving the force.

I started to throw out feelings to learn if suitable jobs might become vacant. It must have reached Bert Farrer's ears, as he seriously suggested that I might be interested in becoming the local mortuary attendant, for that position became on offer. I did not even consider that ghoulish job one little bit, but might have accepted a job with a local undertaker as bearer.

The mortuary was in those days, almost next door to the Police station, standing amongst dark shrubs and surrounded with iron railings that fronted onto London Road.

I remember only too well when all the family and I were returning from Evensong at South Bersted Church some years earlier. I pointed out to Jane, who was well aware of what the building was, a pair of workman's rubber protective gloves that were hanging in juxtaposition from the railings. I suggested to her that a body was trying to get out. I was not prepared for the screech she let out and her subsequent escape to safety!

I was called to Bert Farrer's office after he had received a call from Chichester Headquarters, again about another position for an ex-policeman. It appears an urgent request had been received from the Duke of Norfolk's Estate Office for the names of policemen nearing retirement who might be interested in becoming the Duke's wine butler. I again flatly refused, having no endearing thoughts about the aristocracy.

I learned afterwards that PC Ron Burgess, the ex-Coroner's officer at Worthing, took up the position, our next door neighbour after Paul Barnes moved to Singleton.

A stroke of luck occurred when a special inspector, with whom I had a good relationship, and who was employed in the County Surveyor's Department, suggested I might be interested in becoming a Highway Inspector. I admitted it sounded just the right kind of employment for which I was suited, and in the broadest sense, similar to police work in that I would be guarding the highways. However, I did nothing further at that time and three or four weeks elapsed.

I then had a telephone message at home from him, to ask if I was still interested, as he was aware that I had not made an application for one of the three posts on offer. He also suggested, perhaps unfairly, that I would have no opposition in getting one of these highly sought after positions.
I took up the challenge, applied, and was asked to go to County Hall for an interview. Whereupon I found that Bernie Shopland, whom I had relieved to become the Station Sergeant, was also applying for one of the positions on offer. Much to my surprise, I was offered a position there and then.

Bernie, who already had a similar job with Bognor Regis Urban District Council, was offered a position with Rustington Highways Depot.    

After serving 26½ years in the Police Force I retired on 14th February 1973, to take up a position as Highway Inspector still working in West Sussex, and would do so for the rest of my working life.