Retired Police Sergeant, Archie Greenshields (born in 1921), gives an account of his police training days at Sandgate.

'At the end of September 1946, I was given a warrant and reported to the Police College in Sandgate, Kent, high on a hill not far from Folkestone. Some 20 of us hopefuls, mostly ex-servicemen, joined Class 4 on No. 5 Course. The Centre was quite grand and I was allocated a room, which I shared with a Bert Jenkins, who had joined the Kent Constabulary. In a room close to ours was another friendly chap named Dick Barton, who lived at Westbourne, not far from Sindles Farm where Barbara worked.

I have been very remiss in this stage of my writing not to have included a mention of my dear wife, Barbara, who I met soon after I was de-mobbed from the army, and was at this point engaged to be married to her. One of the drawbacks was the distance of the Training Centre from Chichester and from where she was still working in the Land Army at Westbourne. It did mean that we would be parted from each other for long periods.

I was soon to learn that there would be a great deal of studying to contend with. Text books on law to digest, definitions to learn off by heart, and notes taken down in a form of mock shorthand to write up again in fair copy ready for the next day. Each evening there seemed to be a session or class of some sort to attend, all of which were before the evening dinner, which was a compulsory affair.

The course was programmed to last for three months of intensive training and at the end of each four weeks there was an exam, with the warning that the marks would not be allowed to drop below a set level after the first attempt. Thereafter any under-achievers would be in danger of being returned. As well as lectures on felonies, misdemeanours and other minor offences, there were lectures on all aspects of the criminal law.

There were periods of drill, physical fitness training, un-armed combat where police holds were taught together with a milder form of self-defence using our batons. There were cross-country runs and the sheer torture of swimming lessons in the cold water, open air baths in Folkstone. It was a claim by the College Commandant, who was a swimming freak, that no one had yet left Sandgate without learning to swim and without obtaining a life-saving award into the bargain. I am not proud to say that, in spite of being given personal lessons by his high and mighty, I achieved neither!

I hated the physical training, which was taken by a Sergeant from the Kent force who, like most PT instructors, was an outrageous bully. He included plenty of vaulting horse exercises and soon latched onto the fact that I was not able to carry these out. Like the veritable man who is unable to swing his arms when marching in opposing directions of his feet, I too am unable to vault over the 'horse'. I could not at school, nor in the army, and neither for the Police.

This particular sergeant decided that he would show me up before the rest of the class and ordered me to keep at it until I succeeded. On my next crash into that despicable object, I felt a searing pain and heard an ominous crack in my right wrist, and knew at once that I had broken it. The sergeant insisted that I had not and ordered me to join the rest and continue jogging round the gym.

With every jolt of my wrist it was agony, until I insisted once again my suspicions. He rejected my complaint and suggested that if I disbelieved him, then there was no other option but to visit the Matron. When she saw the swelling and quickly realised I was right, she sent me to Folkestone Hospital where an X-ray proved it was broken. My wrist was plastered up and the ignominy for the Instructor was that he had been ordered to collect me. The sight of his face when he saw the plaster was solace indeed!

At dinner that evening the sight of three incapacitated budding constables caused quite a stir, and tongues were wagging. At one table that was a constable with his leg in plaster, due to it being broken during a self-defence period. At another was a man who wore an eye-patch to cover the loss of an eye, sustained during a ridiculous bout when the instructor made eight men enter a boxing ring and slog it out with others until there was only one standing. Apparently the lace from a glove came un-done causing the injury. Now I with my broken wrist made up the sorry trio.

It was doubly unfortunate as the final exams were just about to be set, and I was unable to use my writing hand. It was quite impossible for me to write with any success with my left, apart from which the pain was unbearable for quite a while, as no painkillers had been prescribed. The Commandant was fair in that he gave me the option of remaining or returning to Chichester. I took the option of returning and two traffic patrolmen collected me and, for the third occasion in my life, had sick leave granted.

After a few weeks the break mended and, with the plaster removed, I returned to the training centre and was included with another Class. There were two entrants of the Sussex force with this class - Monty Peel, the son of a serving Superintendent, and John Harris. (Monty sadly died quite young through illness and John Harris had to retire early because of his health.) However, I had returned to the centre to complete the final month of that class' syllabus, so that part of it in effect was a helpful revision.

All three of us passed our final exams at the end of January and after the Passing out Parade on the 1st February 1947, learned where we would join a Division. I was to serve at Littlehampton and Monty was pleased to learn that he was to go to Chichester. He had been concerned that he too might have to serve in the Littlehampton Division, in which his father commanded. I do not remember where John Harris went to for his first posting, but at some stage he too served at Chichester and at Petworth, and eventually attained the rank of inspector.'