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Latest Interesting Article

Interesting Articles

 

This section features interesting articles written by former colleagues on a wide range of subjects related to the Bermuda Police Service or recounting personal experiences.   We are delighted to receive articles from anyone who wishes to put pen to paper, and will assist with editing where necessary.

 

 

"B" Watch & The Man at Darrell's Wharf

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 Submitted by
Charlie Mooney
 

 

A long time ago, in a far off distant land, known as The Isles of Devils, there existed a ‘Watch’, also referred to as a ‘Shift’ in some jurisdictions, simply named ‘B’ Watch. There were many wise men who opined on the derivation of this tag ‘B’, since there were so many possibilities in the dictionary, and in particular, on the personnel who worked Island-wide within this unit.

The positivity of the pronouncements depended largely on whether or not you wished to be dealt with by them, or whether you really wanted them not to be dealing with you. For it was known that there was no finer group of men within the Bermuda Police Force in the 1970s. They all worked very hard together but they also played very hard together when not working and this included their families.

Traffic Division taken in November 1978.
Back Row (l-R)Anthony Taylor, Roger Brydon, Hiram Edwards, John Instone, George Rushe, 
David O’Meara, John Baxter, Nicky Bolton, Charlie
Mooney, Mike Phillips , Barry Higham, DaveSmith, Laurie Phillips, Pater Walgate, Gordon Farquhuar, Gary Murrell, Frank Wood, Lyndon Lewis.
Front Row (l-r) Dennis Gordon, John Graham, Brenda Lewis, Orson Daisley, Dee Tavares,Roger Beschizza, Chief Inspector Ernie Moniz, Inspector
Robin Henagulph,Inspector Arthur Rose, Andy Hall, Stephen Peterson, Roger Sherratt, Archie Husbands,
Roger Kendall, Esther Smith, Mike Burke, Carol Royer.
How many of these officers were members of "B" Watch?!
 

They operated by what many other Police officers saw as unorthodox, but always legal means, even if their methods were not taught in the Training School, or always permitted by Senior officers.

On one occasion, when there was a report of a prowler outside a woman’s house in Spanish Point, the first vehicle to go 10-8 (“have arrived’) at the scene, within minutes, was the St. George’s local vehicle, which should not have been on this side of the Causeway! Lenny Creighton and Stuart Kirkpatrick were in the vehicle that night and their ‘defence’ was “We were on our way to Operations for gas, Sarge!”

Police Constable 214 Andrew (Andy) Comrie Hall fitted extremely well into this close-knit band of men. He always said that his father meant to call him Crombie, but was still celebrating his birth and spelt his middle name incorrectly at the Registry office.

Although both Andy and myself were born and raised in Glasgow, Scotland, we were from opposite sides of the Great Football Divide. Andy was a Rangers supporter and I was a supporter of their great rivals Celtic. We always had a bet on the game each time they played against each other. It was a standing bet, even if neither of us was in Bermuda. It was just expected that we had a bet on the game which was usually $10. We bet against each other many other times as our way of settling a dispute or difference of opinion.

In those days it was quite common for ‘B’ Watch personnel to attend at the R.A.F.A. Club in the morning at the end of a week of nights. This stay usually lasted until just before midday when we would make our way to the PRC. When it closed at 2.30pm it was time to attend for dominoes and/or cards at the Mariners’ Club.

One day Andy and I got into an argument about some rule in football, ‘soccer’ as it is sometimes called. We were unable to resolve it there and then despite the input from our other assembled football ‘experts.’ However, one of them did suggest a solution as to which one of us knew the most about the Rules of Football. The Bermuda Football Referees Association was holding its annual Rules Examination that evening at the National Stadium. The only problem was that it started at 5.30pm. We therefore had to go straight from the Mariners’ Club to the National Stadium.

We both passed the written exam and they then announced that we had to go straight to Police Field for the second part. You can imagine our surprise when they told us it was a physical exam! We had to run laps around the field and then run sprint shuttles. This was after our busy day in the aforementioned establishments! I do remember that I beat Andy but I can’t remember what my prize was.

Perhaps one of the strangest bets that Andy and I had was made another morning in the R.A.F.A. Club. Andy said that I could not eat a dozen hard boiled eggs without a drink. After some negotiations I was permitted to use as much Mayonaise as I wished. The event was scheduled for the next Monday morning after our Night shift in the same venue. The bet on this occasion was a case of beer. I had to provide the Mayonaise and Andy would provide the eggs.

I didn’t give it any further thoughts until the big morning arrived. We gathered at the R.A.F.A. Club and after a couple of beers I was ready to face the challenge. I had my large bottle of Mayonaise. Andy then produced his masterstroke! He had bought a dozen Jumbo sized eggs! That’s when it dawned on me that we had not even discussed the size of the eggs. I did manage to struggle through the whole dozen eggs to claim my case of beer.

‘B’ Watch played cards at any opportunity, whether it was a get-together on our days off, or during our refreshments (refs) breaks on nights. In those days the Traffic patrols took their refs from 4.00am until 6.00am. Most incidents occurring during these times would be dealt with by the Divisions. However, not all. If an alarm went off, or there was an urgent call then the whole of Traffic attended and it was like a race to be first on the scene, irrespective of which area you had been assigned to.

It was during one of these card games, we always played our own version of ‘Trumps,’ that a call came in to the Operations Centre where we were playing at about 5.10am. Andy, as Duty Officer, answered. It was from a woman on Harbour Road, Warwick, reporting that there was a man at Darrell’s Wharf acting suspiciously. He was apparently walking around and not staying still, whilst glancing out towards the harbor and up and down Harbour Road.

Attending this incident would have resulted in the card school being disbanded. Andy must have had a good hand and been in line to win the $1.00 per person stake, because he had a brilliant idea. He knew that there was a public telephone in the shelter at Darrell’s Wharf, so he suggested looking up the number and calling it. He duly got the number, dialed it and the man answered. He was put onto the speaker so that we could all listen.

Andy explained that he was calling from Police Headquarters and since we were carrying out observations in the area, we had noticed that he had been hanging about for the last ten minutes or so, was there any particular reason why he was there? The man replied that he was waiting for his friend to pick him up in his boat so that they could go fishing. He was supposed to be picked up at 6.00am. Andy then asked him if he could leave the area until closer to 6.00am and then come back. The man agreed to this request and hung up.

Andy waited a minute and then called back the woman who had called in the report. He asked her if the man was still there and received the response that the strangest thing had happened. Shortly after she had called, the man used the phone in the shelter and then left the area. Andy replied that we had sent an unmarked car through the area to check it out and it was all clear. The woman had seen a car on the road. We were then able to resume and complete our card game. Another report resolved in a manner that is not taught in any Police Training Manual.

 

Editors note  -  The photograph of Traffic Department above was taken in 1978, and we wonder how many of them were members of "B" Watch.  I had the privilege of being the Sergeant in charge of "B" Watch for several years and I can say without hesitation that it was the finest group of police officers I ever worked with.   As Charlie says above, they played hard but they also worked very hard, and could always be counted on to deal with difficult situations.

Just one brief story I can recall about "B" Watch.  We had been working on Late Shift 4pm-12 pm and on this particular evening the Police Club had a special on for some new brand of beer.  It was either free or being sold at a ridiculously low price just for that one evening.  As soon as they knocked off work all the members of my Watch scampered up to the Club for the cheap beer - all except two, myself and one P.C. who I believe was either Roger Brydon or Barry Higham.  We were dealing with an accident and didn't get off duty until after 12.30am and the bar was closing at 1am.   All our "B" Watch lads had consumed ast least 5 or 6 beers by the time we arrived, but by 1am my partner had caught up with them on at least 8 or 9.  I have to admit that I was almost a non-drinker and only managed one  - a very poor effort by "B" Watch standards!

Without going through the list in great details I remember the following members of "B" Watch during my time:-   Andy Hall, Barry Higham, Steve Peterson, Tony Laughton,  Roger Brydon, Bruce Bingley, Dennis Gordon, Archie Husbands, Charlie Mooney, Roger Beschizza, Lyndon Lewis,  the irrepressible George Rushe, Dave "Pointed Stick" O'Meara, and John Baxter to name some of them.

If you served on "B" Watch please feel free to send us any photos you have, and  your recollections of your time with the lads.  Here's a few photos to start off the collection.  Anyone who worked in Traffic will recall that we always had to wash and clean our patrol cars on Sunday morning's - or incurr the wrath of Chief Inspector Ernie Moniz!

Sunday morning car washing on "B" Watch
Roger Sherratt, Ray Bell and Andy Hall
 
Roger Brydon, Roger Sherratt and Roger Beschizza
 
Bruce Bingley

 

7th April 2016

Charlie Mooney provided the following additional details about "B" Watch in Traffic and around the island:-

In addition to the persons listed, some of the other notables on 'B' Watch Traffic included:
Gerry James, Orson Daisley and I think Eddie Foggo may have been before Gerry.
There was also Ray Bell, Roger Beschizza, Lyndon Lewis, Anthony 'Tinker' Taylor, Gary Murrell, George Rushe.
We didn't really have much movement from 'B' Watch over the mid to late 70s.
In St. Geoge's we had Brian Flook, John Morris, Lenny Creighton, Donald Grant, Dave Shakeshaft, Stuart Kirkpatrick, and Pete Shaw.
Somerset had John 'Coco' Eve, Gerry Lyons, Andy Donaldson, who locked up Somerset station one night to attend a 10-55 at Crockwell's on Middle Road, Warwick in a Kombi!
I can only remember Brian Malpas, Mincy Rawlins, Coghlan 'Coggie' Gibbons and Jonathan Smith in Hamilton.
FYI - Today is National Beer Day. Should be at PRC this afternoon with the other retirees in our corner!!!!

Policeman swapped PJ's for Paradise

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A few weeks ago my wife and I were invited to the Police Club for a "commendation" ceremony which I initially thought was for serving police officers who would be receiving recognition from COP Michael DeSilva.  On entering the PRC main hall I also saw Andy Bermingham, Chris Wiilcox and Alex Macdonald, all of whom are also retired Bermuda police officers.  

It was a very pleasant surprise to realize  we were all going to be awarded  Commendations by Commissioner DeSilva, as were a number of serving police officers, and several civilians, including a young man who had helped to extricate a police officer from his police vehicle after it plunged down a steep hillside near Horseshoe Bay.  For complete details of the Commendations awarded by the Commissioner that evening you can find them on the BPS Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10154053544421062.1073741841.173632061061&type=3.

Andy Bermingham, Chris Wilcox, Alex Macdonal, along with still serving Chief Inspector Cal  Smith were being honoured by the Commissioner for their work in producing the excellent  book on the  History of the Bermuda Police book celebrating the 135th anniversary of the creation of the Police.  For anyone who has not seen it I would highly recommend that you purchase a copy from Brown and Company. If you are living overseas click here for information about how to make a purchase from abroad.

Receiving Commendations from COP Michael DeSilva
(l-r) Alex Macdonald, Chris Wilcox, Andy Bermingham and
Chief Insp Calvin Smith with COP Michael DeSilva

Their Commendation read

Awarded -  For your vision, dedication and selfless commitment to the publication of
a pictorial and narrative history book to mark the occasion of the 135th anniversary
of the Police Establishment Act 1879. Your efforts produced a book that provides an
interesting, informative and nostalgic walk down memory lane. At the time of its launch
in June 2015, Brown and Company reported that the Police Book
set a record in terms of first-print sales.
Commissioner Michael DeSilva present commendation to Roger Sherratt

My own commendation was for my involvement in the Bermuda Ex-Police Officers Association and for creating and maintaining our ExPo website.  The wording in my commendation reads:-

Awarded - For your innovation, passion and personal commitment to maintaining strong
relationships between retired, former and serving police colleagues as President of the
Bermuda Ex-Police Officers' Association affectionally referred to as "Bermie Ex-Po."
Your selfless work has revived the Association with renewed enthusiasm, and you have
created a permanent electronic record in the form of a website where the collective
memory of the police family is stored, and memories can continue to be shared.

Following these presentations I received a call from Jessie Moniz at the Royal Gazette who writes a column about seniors and what they are doing to stay active.  Jessie asked if she could write an article about my involvement with the Bermuda Police  and what I'm doing these days.  Ironically,  for many years while in the BPS I tried to persuade members of the Service, especially sernior officers, to always cooperate with the media and be willing to work closely with them. This advice often fell on stoney ground, with some officers openly saying they would never speak to the press.  Nevertheless, I was a little apprehensive about being interviewed about my personal life, but any fears were allayed when I woke up Tuesday morning and read the article which you can view at http://www.royalgazette.com/article/20160209/ISLAND/160209660

I wonder how many police officers recruited from the UK can equate with my comment about stepping off the plane at the airport thinking  the engines were hot, and suddenly realizing that the breeze was blowing in the wrong direction.  It was the reguar heat and humidity we so much take for granted after May 24th when we Bermudians take our first dip of the year!  

 

A Lost Weekend

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It was all in the course of duty!
 by John McQuaid
Young P.c. John McQuaid

            As the Editor is currently looking for tales of ‘derring do’ and the allocation to police officers of ‘gongs’ and such in days gone by, I have put together this little tale of a brief moment in my very early policing career which is supported with a clipping from my hometown newspaper.  Of course, the individual police forces and the Home Office would always encourage the publication of such tales of bravery through their press offices to bolster recruitment, whereas today they are more interested in the more errant behaviour of the modern force.  Also related to your interest and what  in fact, stirred my memory, was the piece by George Rose of his days in Brum and his reference to the method of ‘pointing’, which served to keep us on a particular route and time schedule (difficult to deviate from your beat and visit a friend, but not impossible!)

Homeward Bound

            At the very tender age of 22 years, I was far away from the place of my birth, my natural urban habitat of the city of Leicester and dutifully serving her Majesty the Queen over 100 miles away with the Metropolitan Police.  As PC 556’L’, I had been allocated the mean streets of Clapham and Brixton in South West London to work my beat and earn a living.  It was of the period when the SS Windrush was serving to bring in many optimistic immigrants from the West Indies who were optimistic of finding their fortunes on the footpaths of London, of which they had been reliably informed were paved with gold.  My salary then, as a probationary constable in the Met. was about 2 pounds per week - less tax!

            On a Friday mid-afternoon in March 1963, I was at Stockwell tube station, near to Brixton, ensconced in a ‘tardis’ police box, ‘making a point’ to my office and hiding from the hubbub of London’s traffic whilst wishing away the next couple of hours in order that I might manage to finish my shift promptly.  I had previously arranged to have two hours time-off and that evening I had planned to be travelling North up the newly constructed M1 motorway (Tring was as far as it went then) in my 1939 Hillman Minx, in order to spend a few days in Leicester celebrating my 23rd birthday with my parents and old friends left behind.

A Tardis police box in London
 

            Wikipedia has an excellent article on the description and history of the ubiquitous police boxes which can be found at (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Police_box).  As an ever-welcome respite from the worst of the weather - if we could get there in time - these little boxes provided many other useful functions for the lonely and cold constable who in those days, truly did walk and walk and walk.  A direct telephone link to the local police station was available from the outside for public use and if my station wished to make contact with me, the white light on the roof would flash.  But lingering - maybe even malingering - inside the tiny little blue box that Friday afternoon and thinking pleasant thoughts, I made myself comfortable as I just wanted to hide away.

            Bang, bang, bang! The cream coloured door right next to my little bench rattled loudly and fully expecting the plywood door to come crashing in on me, I jumped and the cigarette I was rolling fell to the floor. From outside I heard the excited voice of a female shouting, “Constable, constable, is there anyone in there?” On opening the door I was confronted with an extremely distressed lady, a woman I knew from a nearby second-hand shop, garbling something about a man who had just been in her shop and threatened her husband.  She told me, as best as I could understand her, that this man had accused them of ‘diddling’ him over a deal and that he had returned, holding a bomb of some sort and threatening to blow the shop up with them in it.  I went out onto the pavement with her, just opposite the entrance to Stockwell tube station where quite a few people were about and becoming interested. As we trudged off together towards her shop, I did my best to placate her until all of a sudden she stopped in her tracks, starting first to shake physically and then excitedly gesticulating towards the road ahead of us, she purposefully indicated to me the presence of the slightly stooping figure of a youngish man who was walking on the opposite side of the road, staring hard at the pavement.  As he shuffled along, seemingly oblivious to my uniformed presence, I noted that his right hand was pressed deep into his coat pocket which somehow gave me the impression that he was tightly clutching an object of some sort.  My informant, by now hiding behind me and gripping my tunic tightly, hoarsely whispered to me, “That’s him!” and then ran into a nearby shop.

            Not for a long time had my brain ‘sprung’ into action as it did at that moment, when I realised, not for the first time, that all those hours spent in training at the Hendon Police College had not really provided me with an plan of action for a moment such as this.  Walkie-talkies or personal radios were still a thing of the future and I don’t think I even had my trusty lump of wood with me at the time.  To get to the police phone on my Tardis across the busy road was an option to summon assistance I surmised, but what might my target be carrying and what nonsense might he decide to get up to?  With him getting ever closer to the entrance of the very busy underground station, I imagined him mingling very soon with a large crowd of commuters and well - who knows? (Many years later, Brazilian, Jean Charles de Menenez, suspected as a terrorist would be chased down those long stairways at this very same underground station and tragically die from 7 bullets of a police revolver). I needed to do something - and pretty quickly. 

            Crossing the road, I approached him from behind as silently as I could and without saying a word, I desperately and with very little finesse, grabbed both of his elbows and swung him round in the process of which we both fell to the pavement from where I immediately saw in his clenched fist, what I recognised as  a hand-grenade or Mills Bomb.

Mills Bombs (hand grenades)

             When I saw that his knuckles were very white from his tight grip on the device, it was clear to me that he did not intend to release it there and then and the beat of my heart rapidly increased.  For those who are not familiar which such devices, there is a lever which runs along the side of a Mills bomb, which if released, (if the safety pin is not inserted), triggers the mechanism - first there is a slight delay, then Bam!

            Fast forward and somehow I don’t really recall the details, but I do remember there was an awful amount of struggling and rolling around as the people of Stockwell stared on.  Arriving with my prisoner at the door of my ‘tardis’ and struggling with a free hand, I fished out my key and managed to unlock the door and to entrap him within. By now, shaking like a leaf and with legs like jelly, I was at least in the confines of my little room and as I pressed him into the corner I realised that it was now me who had the white knuckles and more importantly, the infernal device was clutched tightly in my own left hand. Somehow and with no previous military experience, I just knew that I had to keep that lever down.  My ‘Black Maria’, with back-up, arrived safely through the gathering crowd and relieved me of my prisoner, but not of the pear-shaped chunk of metal in my hand which I carried all the way back to the police station at Clapham where I was met by an old sergeant who waved me over to a secluded corner.  Jim was an old ex-soldier who had served in the Ordnance Corps of the British Army and on his instructions I gingerly raised my hand and watched as, with the care of a surgeon, he carefully rolled the grenade away from my hand to his;  he gauged the weight and then carefully examined it with the softest of hands like it was a small bird he was dealing with.  Clutching the side spring - as the retaining pin was indeed missing - he carefully unscrewed a small cap on the bottom…

            …“BANG”, shouted Jim in his loudest voice and then, seeing the look on my face, apparently decided not to laugh as he quickly assured me, “Its OK John, its empty!” and letting the side-clip fly upwards he explained to me how these small personal-use bombs were loaded prior to their use in anger and that this was probably a war souvenir!  The b…..d, he probably suspected all along, even before he had seen it, that it was a dud.  Just one of the many silly games the old timers used to play on us probationers.

            My prisoner was duly detained over the weekend as his offence of ‘making threats to kill’ was considered serious enough, especially as the proprietor of the shop had collapsed in a heap when confronted by him.  Sadly for me, the Magistrates courts in those days used to sit on on the next working day with the result that my special trip home was to be aborted, but there was one important bit of police work yet to be completed as I was sent off with instructions to write a detailed duty report as to the circumstances of my afternoon’s work.  My Detective Inspector insisted that I “make it count” and to include in my version of events all of the fear and trepidation that I felt at the time, explaining further that “commendations are made that way Constable, and the ‘old beak’ loves to hear it in his court.”

            I don’t recall now just how the case was concluded, but I do remember that it was another month before I got the chance to travel back home.  I rarely did tell my mother the truth of some of the scrapes that we used to get into in the sixties, as I swear she would have prevented me from returning to the ‘wicked city’. Hey ho, but there were far worse things waiting to happen to me during the next 35 years and I should add, that in the September of that same year I would be settling down in the beautiful Islands of Bermuda where for the next six years I would become Police Constable 143 at St Georges, a married man and then the father of my first child.  Happy days! 

More Articles …

  1. Ray Sousa - Fires in Australia
  2. Getting together in Equador
  3. Last ever sentence of Corporal Punishment
  4. Walking and Working the Beat in England
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