You Can't Search Me, I'm An Officer
by Derek Freeman
Genre: Memoir
Swearwords: One strong one only.
Description: Most of this story concerns my time in the Ministry of Defence Police at Port Edgar, South Queensferry, and Loch Striven on the West Coast. There is also a mention regarding Detached Duty in Belfast and other MOD Establishments. Some names and places have been altered to protect the identity of those involved, but once more the story is an accurate account of my time with the MOD Police.
_____________________________________________________________________
Formerly the Admiralty Constabulary, but following amalgamation in 1971 with the Army and Air Force Departments, it became the Ministry of Defence Police.
Known locally as ‘The Base’, I was employed as a Police Constable at Port Edgar.
The majority of our time was taken up searching baggage, personnel and vehicles to prevent the theft of government property.
Powers to stop and search vehicles and personnel were also conferred on the MOD Police under the Customs & Excise Act and as such we assisted Customs Officers in the prevention of smuggling.
A member of the Royal Navy received an official duty free allowance of 300 cigarettes, known as ‘blue liners’, per month; their name taken from the thin blue line that ran the length of the cigarette.
When going on leave, a few would-be smugglers would attempt to land more than the 300 cigarette allowance and no doubt some succeeded, but if caught smuggling the consequences could be severe.
Cigarettes and other duty free products purchased abroad were identified due to a distinct difference from those on the High Street.
Cigarettes, alcohol, tobacco and prohibited items were seized on a regular basis and as almost all Government Property was marked with an indented arrow or in some other way it was readily identified.
In 1991, due to health issues, the duty free allowance of cigarettes was withdrawn.
The situation in Northern Ireland and other parts of the world prompted bomb alerts and attacks by terrorist organisations became an ongoing threat. Trained in the use of the Browning 9 mm Pistol, regular target practice made sure we were well versed in their use. The MOD Police now use the Heckler & Koch MP5 sub-machine gun and/or the SIG 229 Pistol.
Following the opening of the Forth Road Bridge by HM Queen Elizabeth, the absence of a security fence at the cable anchorages encouraged sightseers to take a closer look and in some instances attempt to scale one of the suspension cables. A few did manage to climb part way to the road level, but were soon discouraged when requested to return to ground level.
It was the early hours of a Saturday morning and three young men were crossing the road bridge towards Fife. Looking in the direction of Port Edgar, they noticed the uniforms at the Main Gate and began shouting insults regarding what they thought of police.
A few minutes later the teenagers were picked up by bridge patrol officers, driven to Fife, then returned to the South side of the river and brought to Port Edgar where they apologised for the insults they thought we could do nothing about. Three unhappy young men again set out for their homes in Fife, but were now forced to walk from Port Edgar.
Inspector Swan had only a few years to serve before his retirement, and as long as we carried out our duties he remained in his office. The only faux pas I made was commenting on the short dirty green curtains in our mess room, informing him they were a disgrace and should be in the bin.
‘My wife made these,’ he replied. I usually talked myself out of trouble, but not on that occasion.
The West exit/entrance to Port Edgar was primarily used by the Captain who resided in a large house at Upper Butlaw. Although the hospital used during the First World War had long since disappeared, the house was retained for successive Officers in Charge.
As a matter of interest, the wounded and dead from The Battle of Jutland were landed at Port Edgar, the dead were buried in the local cemetery in South Queensferry.
The fuel used in the Central Heating system at the Captain’s House was primarily coke, which was transported from Port Edgar by a small motorised vehicle with trailer which was driven by various naval ratings. Occasionally, and if on duty when fuel was taken to the Captain’s home, I signalled the driver to continue through the gate without search.
Who would care to search for unauthorized goods under several hundredweights of coke or coal?
Many years later I learned that the fuel for the Captain’s residence concealed phosphor bronze balls almost a foot in diameter. These balls were used in mine sweeping operations and were very valuable when sold as scrap.
Inspector Swan retired and our new supervisor was a middle-aged Inspector Oldie who had been employed by the MOD for a number of years. Little did I know I was about to get to know the inspector a lot better.
It was the 1 January 1973. I was on duty at the West Gate when I received a telephone call asking me to meet an old school friend in Jock’s Bar. This was a small bar used by off duty naval ratings within the base.
It was approximately four hundred yards from the West Gate, and as no one had entered or exited all day, I locked the office and made my way to the bar. Following three measures of rum and a short chat, I returned to the West Gate.
The following day Inspector Oldie called me into his office. ‘Where were you last night at six o’clock, laddie?’ Jimmy had an irritating habit of addressing all ranks below his own as ‘Laddie’. ‘I was in the office at the West Gate, sir.’ ‘Look laddie, don’t lie to me, I like a drink along with the next one and I know you were in Jock’s Bar.’
Was I about to be reprimanded or thrown out the MOD Police? Jimmy continued, ‘If you decide to do anything like that again, let me know and I’ll come with you.’ Thank goodness good old Jimmy had a sense of humour and enjoyed a drink.
Due to the two gold coloured bands on the cuffs of his uniform, the Lieutenant from New Zealand was referred to as any other officer of the same rank, ‘a two ringer’. The Royal Navy frequently exchanged officers with a friendly foreign country, giving each experience of the other’s navy.
As his green sports car approached the Main Gate, I stepped into the road with my hand raised indicating that he should pull over. As he rolled down his window, I informed him that I would carry out a search of his vehicle. ‘You can’t search me, I’m an officer.’ I am aware of that, sir,’ I replied. ‘Where is your Commanding Officer?’ he snarled. ‘I don’t have a Commanding Officer, sir, but I do have an Inspector, please follow me.’
Inspector Oldie made it clear that although we could not carry out a personal search of an officer, we could and would, if we so wished, search his, or any other vehicle, leaving the establishment. Although no contraband was found, a thorough and time consuming search of his vehicle was carried out, not only on that occasion, but on several others.
Over a few months, a great deal of minesweeping cable vanished from the establishment and although almost all vehicles were subjected to a search, the theft, as we had no doubt it was, continued.
Minesweeping cable was approximately four inches in diameter and with the use of a hacksaw could be cut up into manageable lengths; predominately composed of copper, the scrap value was considerable.
The Department of the Environment carried out work and repairs within the base; vehicles, materials and workshops for this organisation were housed in a compound several hundred yards to the East out with the perimeter fence.
On the majority of occasions DoE vehicles carried a variety of materials and as was normal practice, I signalled the driver to continue out the gate.
As it passed, I stepped onto the roadway and glanced through the side window of the van. ‘Was that a piece of cable in the rear of the van George?’ George shrugged his shoulders in a clear expression of ‘I don’t know and don’t care.’ It was only a quick look and I couldn’t be sure; almost out of sight, the van was now under the road bridge. I knocked on Inspector Oldie’s door. ‘Come in, laddie, what’s the problem?’ I told him what I had seen and before giving me an answer he picked up the telephone to contact the CID in Rosyth.
‘When that van returns, laddie, bring the driver and his mate in here.’
Thirty minutes later the driver and his accomplice were in separate rooms within the police building. Both admitted the theft of MOD property, namely the cable, the majority of which was recovered from a disused garage in nearby Cramond. Although the culprits lost their job, no further action was taken.
We trained in action to be taken if a suspect package was found within MOD property. The area was cleared of personnel and the bomb squad called, but at times common sense was all that was required, especially so when dealing with some of the jokers who instead of joining the Royal Navy would have been better suited to working as comedians.
The first package, wrapped in brown paper and the size of a shoe box, was reported to us by the staff of the NAAFI (Navy, Army, Air Force Institute) shop.
In various areas of Port Edgar there was a double security fence and this package was behind the inner fence. Obviously it had been thrown there by one of the comedians.
The package was retrieved and found to contain nothing more than one dozen sanitary towels; possibly a visiting WREN with a sense of humour?
Apart from red and black wires protruding from it, the second package beneath a colleague’s car was identical to the first. A broom handle was used to push the package from under the vehicle and apart from containing a small amount of electrical wiring, it was empty.
More serious problems occurred on a regular basis and alcohol was a common factor in the majority. Only a medically qualified person could state that a rating was under the influence of alcohol, drugs or some other substance; we could only describe their condition.
As he staggered through the gate, he shouted. ‘I’m going to burn Bennie, I’m going to burn Bennie.’ Obviously intoxicated, but that in itself was not a crime and, for all we knew, Bennie could well have been the teddy bear he slept with.
Forty-five minutes later we received a telephone call from the duty rating in the guard room informing us that although no one was injured, an incident had taken place in the ratings barracks and the culprit was being held in cells. There were cases the Royal Navy dealt with internally and this was such a case; we were called to take statements, collect and preserve evidence.
As it turned out ‘Bennie’ was not a teddy bear. An earlier argument between two ratings had led to a can full of white spirit being poured over the sleeping Bennie’s bed. Although not highly inflammable, if ignited, it could cause severe burns. As a match was struck and about to be thrown on the spirit saturated blankets, the sleeping rating awoke and aided by several others, restrained the would-be fire raiser.
Statements were taken from Bennie and other witnesses which were used at the time of the offender’s punishment. When an offence was committed by a serving member of Her Majesty’s Forces, the offender could be tried by Court Martial or given the option of Commanding Officer’s Punishment, which he would normally opt for in the hope of a more lenient sentence. More serious crimes could be dealt with by the civil courts, but the Royal Navy, like other services, would rather deal with any disciplinary matter internally.
In 1972, a tour of duty in Belfast during the height of the Troubles also proved enlightening; it gave us an opportunity to see for ourselves how and why the problems in that part of the British Isles were so significant.
Detached duty consisted of a four week period assisting MOD Police at an alternative Armed Forces Establishment. My first experience of Detached Duty was at West Freugh, a NATO Air Base near Luce Bay, Stranraer. Our main duty was guarding a target area that had been in use testing Cluster Bombs. As the target area was adjoining the beach at Luce Bay, it was imperative that members of the public did not enter the area as there was a danger from UXB’s, Unexploded Bomblets.
West Freugh became the centre of one of the most reported and talked about episodes regarding UFO’s. In April 1957 three separate radar units reported a number of unidentified flying objects; RAF intelligence ordered all stations throughout the British Isles to stay on a 24-hour alert. Wing Commander Whitworth, Commanding Officer at West Freugh, stated he had been ordered to say nothing regarding the incident till a full investigation had been carried out. Information regarding this incident can be found on the World Wide Web.
Observing a Buccaneer Aircraft flying at approximately 500 mph and an altitude of less than five hundred feet was awe inspiring and more so when dropping bombs. Directly under the outer casing of the cluster bomb, inflatable rubber containers were fitted and as the bomb deployed these containers filled with air forcing the outer casing to be thrown off.
This was immediately followed by the inflation of smaller air bags beneath the cluster bombs causing them to be thrown from the main body of the bomb.
Since their initial development, Cluster Bombs now have many variations, some of which explode above the ground (airburst), others on contact, and yet others which can lie undetected till disturbed by personnel or vehicles. (See the World Wide Web for more information regarding these weapons.)
The much maligned USA F104 Starfighter was observed at West Freugh. The trapezoidal wing was so thin and sharp it presented a danger to ground crew and protective guards were fitted during ground maintenance.
My second tour of Detached Duty was in Northern Ireland during 1972.
When disembarking from the ferry we heard our first large explosion welcoming us to Belfast.
Five constables and a sergeant were billeted in a private house on North Parade and because of the danger from bombings and shootings they were taken to and from work in a private taxi. Sub-machine guns or pistols were carried at all times when on duty.
Belfast was peaceful except for the occasional explosion and of course the nightly gunfire.
North Parade and the surrounding area, we were informed, was safe and a visit to one of the many Public Houses to try real Guinness was first on our list. On a further visit to a second public house we experienced the underlying hatred.
Hearing our voices, a middle-aged woman turned towards our sergeant and said, ‘Fuck off now you Scots get, before you’re shot.’ We didn’t need to be told a second time.
Public Houses were now off limits and any future alcohol was brought to and consumed within our lodgings.
Other detached duties included RNAD Coulport where Nuclear Weapons were stored and a Munitions Depot in Glen Douglas, both near Loch Long, Argyll. Further information on these establishments can also be found on the Web.
Inspector Oldie left Port Edgar on promotion, and our new boss was Inspector Tall. After a few months he called me into his office and asked if I would like to join the CID. It was something I thought I could do well in, but never thought I would have the opportunity.
The CID worked from a large open-plan office, an officer sitting at each desk busily studying paperwork associated with the specific crime they were working on, or trying to look professional typing a report with two fingers.
I was assigned to an experienced officer and in the next few days we visited a number of homes concerning various crimes. CID experience lasted just over a week before I informed the Chief Inspector I would prefer to return to uniform.
My last morning with the CID consisted of becoming a message boy for the Assistant Chief Constable. On reporting for duty, I was informed the ACC required my presence. I entered his office and observed a rather large gentleman sitting behind his rather large desk. He casually looked up, handed me some coins and instructed me to buy him a tin of Balkan Sobranie tobacco at the nearby Newsagents.
When I returned to his office, it was empty, I placed the tin of tobacco on his desk, returned to the CID office and informed the Chief Inspector that I preferred to return to uniform at Port Edgar. He asked why I had changed my mind regarding the CID. I told him that after five years in the MOD Police, no one, including the ACC, was using me as a message boy. I was told not to be so hasty, but my mind was made up. The lazy old bugger could have gone to the shop and bought his own tobacco; after all, he certainly required the exercise.
In 1976, just before Port Edgar closed, I applied for a posting to a NATO POLD establishment on the West Coast. Loch Striven would be my new place of work and our home for the next two years. A sergeant and three constables left for the same destination.
My knowledge of Loch Striven was limited. The loch had been used during the Second World War testing a smaller version of the Barnes Wallis bouncing bomb and the training of midget submarine crews.
There were eight houses almost quarter of a mile from the depot; it was a short peaceful walk to work each shift.
Fishing for a couple of hours during the night shift helped pass the time; if not fishing, the Browning nine millimetre pistols were stripped down cleaned and reassembled.
A field to the rear of our home supplied us with wild mushrooms; a large container could be filled in a matter of minutes. The occasional young deer, together with birds of prey and grass snakes, could also be seen.
A basking shark swam past only a few feet from the shore. It must have been twenty feet long, an amazing sight, but a comparatively small one.
The summers were quiet and peaceful. We sold sea urchins to passing tourists, and thirty feet from our front door we could swim in the warm waters of the Kyles of Bute; it was an idyllic life.
Why, I wondered, were storm doors fitted to the houses, the weather couldn’t be that bad?
During the first winter it became obvious; storm force winds threw sea spray and anything that floated against the houses. Was it any wonder they suffered from damp?
It was a ‘laid back’ existence, an easy job, fresh fish and a twice a week bus into Dunoon, but there is always something or someone that spoils everything for everyone.
In our case the only problem was an Inspector that didn’t know his bum from his elbow. It could have been so much easier, but Inspector Brown was a typical know it all, do as I say idiot.
After a few months I became the police federation representative, the equivalent of a Shop Steward in an industrial environment. As most of the homes at Loch Striven were suffering from damp, I made this my first priority. Following a few exchanges with the Department of Environment, they were forced to renew the rotting windows.
The location on which the houses stood, with the sea to the front and the almost marshy environment at the rear and no doubt beneath, it was little wonder they were damp.
Loch Striven, as the name implies, was a Petrol, Oil & Lubricating Depot which various ships of the NATO Fleet would visit. Due to staff housing, no armament ships were allowed to dock at the jetty, but following my departure at the end of1977 the MOD Police were withdrawn from Loch Striven and the houses demolished, allowing armament ships to visit and refuel. For the following twenty-two years I was employed by British Petroleum at Grangemouth, but that’s another story.
(Information regarding Port Edgar and Loch Striven can also be found on the Web, together with satellite images.)
Swearwords: One strong one only.
Description: Most of this story concerns my time in the Ministry of Defence Police at Port Edgar, South Queensferry, and Loch Striven on the West Coast. There is also a mention regarding Detached Duty in Belfast and other MOD Establishments. Some names and places have been altered to protect the identity of those involved, but once more the story is an accurate account of my time with the MOD Police.
_____________________________________________________________________
Formerly the Admiralty Constabulary, but following amalgamation in 1971 with the Army and Air Force Departments, it became the Ministry of Defence Police.
Known locally as ‘The Base’, I was employed as a Police Constable at Port Edgar.
The majority of our time was taken up searching baggage, personnel and vehicles to prevent the theft of government property.
Powers to stop and search vehicles and personnel were also conferred on the MOD Police under the Customs & Excise Act and as such we assisted Customs Officers in the prevention of smuggling.
A member of the Royal Navy received an official duty free allowance of 300 cigarettes, known as ‘blue liners’, per month; their name taken from the thin blue line that ran the length of the cigarette.
When going on leave, a few would-be smugglers would attempt to land more than the 300 cigarette allowance and no doubt some succeeded, but if caught smuggling the consequences could be severe.
Cigarettes and other duty free products purchased abroad were identified due to a distinct difference from those on the High Street.
Cigarettes, alcohol, tobacco and prohibited items were seized on a regular basis and as almost all Government Property was marked with an indented arrow or in some other way it was readily identified.
In 1991, due to health issues, the duty free allowance of cigarettes was withdrawn.
The situation in Northern Ireland and other parts of the world prompted bomb alerts and attacks by terrorist organisations became an ongoing threat. Trained in the use of the Browning 9 mm Pistol, regular target practice made sure we were well versed in their use. The MOD Police now use the Heckler & Koch MP5 sub-machine gun and/or the SIG 229 Pistol.
Following the opening of the Forth Road Bridge by HM Queen Elizabeth, the absence of a security fence at the cable anchorages encouraged sightseers to take a closer look and in some instances attempt to scale one of the suspension cables. A few did manage to climb part way to the road level, but were soon discouraged when requested to return to ground level.
It was the early hours of a Saturday morning and three young men were crossing the road bridge towards Fife. Looking in the direction of Port Edgar, they noticed the uniforms at the Main Gate and began shouting insults regarding what they thought of police.
A few minutes later the teenagers were picked up by bridge patrol officers, driven to Fife, then returned to the South side of the river and brought to Port Edgar where they apologised for the insults they thought we could do nothing about. Three unhappy young men again set out for their homes in Fife, but were now forced to walk from Port Edgar.
Inspector Swan had only a few years to serve before his retirement, and as long as we carried out our duties he remained in his office. The only faux pas I made was commenting on the short dirty green curtains in our mess room, informing him they were a disgrace and should be in the bin.
‘My wife made these,’ he replied. I usually talked myself out of trouble, but not on that occasion.
The West exit/entrance to Port Edgar was primarily used by the Captain who resided in a large house at Upper Butlaw. Although the hospital used during the First World War had long since disappeared, the house was retained for successive Officers in Charge.
As a matter of interest, the wounded and dead from The Battle of Jutland were landed at Port Edgar, the dead were buried in the local cemetery in South Queensferry.
The fuel used in the Central Heating system at the Captain’s House was primarily coke, which was transported from Port Edgar by a small motorised vehicle with trailer which was driven by various naval ratings. Occasionally, and if on duty when fuel was taken to the Captain’s home, I signalled the driver to continue through the gate without search.
Who would care to search for unauthorized goods under several hundredweights of coke or coal?
Many years later I learned that the fuel for the Captain’s residence concealed phosphor bronze balls almost a foot in diameter. These balls were used in mine sweeping operations and were very valuable when sold as scrap.
Inspector Swan retired and our new supervisor was a middle-aged Inspector Oldie who had been employed by the MOD for a number of years. Little did I know I was about to get to know the inspector a lot better.
It was the 1 January 1973. I was on duty at the West Gate when I received a telephone call asking me to meet an old school friend in Jock’s Bar. This was a small bar used by off duty naval ratings within the base.
It was approximately four hundred yards from the West Gate, and as no one had entered or exited all day, I locked the office and made my way to the bar. Following three measures of rum and a short chat, I returned to the West Gate.
The following day Inspector Oldie called me into his office. ‘Where were you last night at six o’clock, laddie?’ Jimmy had an irritating habit of addressing all ranks below his own as ‘Laddie’. ‘I was in the office at the West Gate, sir.’ ‘Look laddie, don’t lie to me, I like a drink along with the next one and I know you were in Jock’s Bar.’
Was I about to be reprimanded or thrown out the MOD Police? Jimmy continued, ‘If you decide to do anything like that again, let me know and I’ll come with you.’ Thank goodness good old Jimmy had a sense of humour and enjoyed a drink.
Due to the two gold coloured bands on the cuffs of his uniform, the Lieutenant from New Zealand was referred to as any other officer of the same rank, ‘a two ringer’. The Royal Navy frequently exchanged officers with a friendly foreign country, giving each experience of the other’s navy.
As his green sports car approached the Main Gate, I stepped into the road with my hand raised indicating that he should pull over. As he rolled down his window, I informed him that I would carry out a search of his vehicle. ‘You can’t search me, I’m an officer.’ I am aware of that, sir,’ I replied. ‘Where is your Commanding Officer?’ he snarled. ‘I don’t have a Commanding Officer, sir, but I do have an Inspector, please follow me.’
Inspector Oldie made it clear that although we could not carry out a personal search of an officer, we could and would, if we so wished, search his, or any other vehicle, leaving the establishment. Although no contraband was found, a thorough and time consuming search of his vehicle was carried out, not only on that occasion, but on several others.
Over a few months, a great deal of minesweeping cable vanished from the establishment and although almost all vehicles were subjected to a search, the theft, as we had no doubt it was, continued.
Minesweeping cable was approximately four inches in diameter and with the use of a hacksaw could be cut up into manageable lengths; predominately composed of copper, the scrap value was considerable.
The Department of the Environment carried out work and repairs within the base; vehicles, materials and workshops for this organisation were housed in a compound several hundred yards to the East out with the perimeter fence.
On the majority of occasions DoE vehicles carried a variety of materials and as was normal practice, I signalled the driver to continue out the gate.
As it passed, I stepped onto the roadway and glanced through the side window of the van. ‘Was that a piece of cable in the rear of the van George?’ George shrugged his shoulders in a clear expression of ‘I don’t know and don’t care.’ It was only a quick look and I couldn’t be sure; almost out of sight, the van was now under the road bridge. I knocked on Inspector Oldie’s door. ‘Come in, laddie, what’s the problem?’ I told him what I had seen and before giving me an answer he picked up the telephone to contact the CID in Rosyth.
‘When that van returns, laddie, bring the driver and his mate in here.’
Thirty minutes later the driver and his accomplice were in separate rooms within the police building. Both admitted the theft of MOD property, namely the cable, the majority of which was recovered from a disused garage in nearby Cramond. Although the culprits lost their job, no further action was taken.
We trained in action to be taken if a suspect package was found within MOD property. The area was cleared of personnel and the bomb squad called, but at times common sense was all that was required, especially so when dealing with some of the jokers who instead of joining the Royal Navy would have been better suited to working as comedians.
The first package, wrapped in brown paper and the size of a shoe box, was reported to us by the staff of the NAAFI (Navy, Army, Air Force Institute) shop.
In various areas of Port Edgar there was a double security fence and this package was behind the inner fence. Obviously it had been thrown there by one of the comedians.
The package was retrieved and found to contain nothing more than one dozen sanitary towels; possibly a visiting WREN with a sense of humour?
Apart from red and black wires protruding from it, the second package beneath a colleague’s car was identical to the first. A broom handle was used to push the package from under the vehicle and apart from containing a small amount of electrical wiring, it was empty.
More serious problems occurred on a regular basis and alcohol was a common factor in the majority. Only a medically qualified person could state that a rating was under the influence of alcohol, drugs or some other substance; we could only describe their condition.
As he staggered through the gate, he shouted. ‘I’m going to burn Bennie, I’m going to burn Bennie.’ Obviously intoxicated, but that in itself was not a crime and, for all we knew, Bennie could well have been the teddy bear he slept with.
Forty-five minutes later we received a telephone call from the duty rating in the guard room informing us that although no one was injured, an incident had taken place in the ratings barracks and the culprit was being held in cells. There were cases the Royal Navy dealt with internally and this was such a case; we were called to take statements, collect and preserve evidence.
As it turned out ‘Bennie’ was not a teddy bear. An earlier argument between two ratings had led to a can full of white spirit being poured over the sleeping Bennie’s bed. Although not highly inflammable, if ignited, it could cause severe burns. As a match was struck and about to be thrown on the spirit saturated blankets, the sleeping rating awoke and aided by several others, restrained the would-be fire raiser.
Statements were taken from Bennie and other witnesses which were used at the time of the offender’s punishment. When an offence was committed by a serving member of Her Majesty’s Forces, the offender could be tried by Court Martial or given the option of Commanding Officer’s Punishment, which he would normally opt for in the hope of a more lenient sentence. More serious crimes could be dealt with by the civil courts, but the Royal Navy, like other services, would rather deal with any disciplinary matter internally.
In 1972, a tour of duty in Belfast during the height of the Troubles also proved enlightening; it gave us an opportunity to see for ourselves how and why the problems in that part of the British Isles were so significant.
Detached duty consisted of a four week period assisting MOD Police at an alternative Armed Forces Establishment. My first experience of Detached Duty was at West Freugh, a NATO Air Base near Luce Bay, Stranraer. Our main duty was guarding a target area that had been in use testing Cluster Bombs. As the target area was adjoining the beach at Luce Bay, it was imperative that members of the public did not enter the area as there was a danger from UXB’s, Unexploded Bomblets.
West Freugh became the centre of one of the most reported and talked about episodes regarding UFO’s. In April 1957 three separate radar units reported a number of unidentified flying objects; RAF intelligence ordered all stations throughout the British Isles to stay on a 24-hour alert. Wing Commander Whitworth, Commanding Officer at West Freugh, stated he had been ordered to say nothing regarding the incident till a full investigation had been carried out. Information regarding this incident can be found on the World Wide Web.
Observing a Buccaneer Aircraft flying at approximately 500 mph and an altitude of less than five hundred feet was awe inspiring and more so when dropping bombs. Directly under the outer casing of the cluster bomb, inflatable rubber containers were fitted and as the bomb deployed these containers filled with air forcing the outer casing to be thrown off.
This was immediately followed by the inflation of smaller air bags beneath the cluster bombs causing them to be thrown from the main body of the bomb.
Since their initial development, Cluster Bombs now have many variations, some of which explode above the ground (airburst), others on contact, and yet others which can lie undetected till disturbed by personnel or vehicles. (See the World Wide Web for more information regarding these weapons.)
The much maligned USA F104 Starfighter was observed at West Freugh. The trapezoidal wing was so thin and sharp it presented a danger to ground crew and protective guards were fitted during ground maintenance.
My second tour of Detached Duty was in Northern Ireland during 1972.
When disembarking from the ferry we heard our first large explosion welcoming us to Belfast.
Five constables and a sergeant were billeted in a private house on North Parade and because of the danger from bombings and shootings they were taken to and from work in a private taxi. Sub-machine guns or pistols were carried at all times when on duty.
Belfast was peaceful except for the occasional explosion and of course the nightly gunfire.
North Parade and the surrounding area, we were informed, was safe and a visit to one of the many Public Houses to try real Guinness was first on our list. On a further visit to a second public house we experienced the underlying hatred.
Hearing our voices, a middle-aged woman turned towards our sergeant and said, ‘Fuck off now you Scots get, before you’re shot.’ We didn’t need to be told a second time.
Public Houses were now off limits and any future alcohol was brought to and consumed within our lodgings.
Other detached duties included RNAD Coulport where Nuclear Weapons were stored and a Munitions Depot in Glen Douglas, both near Loch Long, Argyll. Further information on these establishments can also be found on the Web.
Inspector Oldie left Port Edgar on promotion, and our new boss was Inspector Tall. After a few months he called me into his office and asked if I would like to join the CID. It was something I thought I could do well in, but never thought I would have the opportunity.
The CID worked from a large open-plan office, an officer sitting at each desk busily studying paperwork associated with the specific crime they were working on, or trying to look professional typing a report with two fingers.
I was assigned to an experienced officer and in the next few days we visited a number of homes concerning various crimes. CID experience lasted just over a week before I informed the Chief Inspector I would prefer to return to uniform.
My last morning with the CID consisted of becoming a message boy for the Assistant Chief Constable. On reporting for duty, I was informed the ACC required my presence. I entered his office and observed a rather large gentleman sitting behind his rather large desk. He casually looked up, handed me some coins and instructed me to buy him a tin of Balkan Sobranie tobacco at the nearby Newsagents.
When I returned to his office, it was empty, I placed the tin of tobacco on his desk, returned to the CID office and informed the Chief Inspector that I preferred to return to uniform at Port Edgar. He asked why I had changed my mind regarding the CID. I told him that after five years in the MOD Police, no one, including the ACC, was using me as a message boy. I was told not to be so hasty, but my mind was made up. The lazy old bugger could have gone to the shop and bought his own tobacco; after all, he certainly required the exercise.
In 1976, just before Port Edgar closed, I applied for a posting to a NATO POLD establishment on the West Coast. Loch Striven would be my new place of work and our home for the next two years. A sergeant and three constables left for the same destination.
My knowledge of Loch Striven was limited. The loch had been used during the Second World War testing a smaller version of the Barnes Wallis bouncing bomb and the training of midget submarine crews.
There were eight houses almost quarter of a mile from the depot; it was a short peaceful walk to work each shift.
Fishing for a couple of hours during the night shift helped pass the time; if not fishing, the Browning nine millimetre pistols were stripped down cleaned and reassembled.
A field to the rear of our home supplied us with wild mushrooms; a large container could be filled in a matter of minutes. The occasional young deer, together with birds of prey and grass snakes, could also be seen.
A basking shark swam past only a few feet from the shore. It must have been twenty feet long, an amazing sight, but a comparatively small one.
The summers were quiet and peaceful. We sold sea urchins to passing tourists, and thirty feet from our front door we could swim in the warm waters of the Kyles of Bute; it was an idyllic life.
Why, I wondered, were storm doors fitted to the houses, the weather couldn’t be that bad?
During the first winter it became obvious; storm force winds threw sea spray and anything that floated against the houses. Was it any wonder they suffered from damp?
It was a ‘laid back’ existence, an easy job, fresh fish and a twice a week bus into Dunoon, but there is always something or someone that spoils everything for everyone.
In our case the only problem was an Inspector that didn’t know his bum from his elbow. It could have been so much easier, but Inspector Brown was a typical know it all, do as I say idiot.
After a few months I became the police federation representative, the equivalent of a Shop Steward in an industrial environment. As most of the homes at Loch Striven were suffering from damp, I made this my first priority. Following a few exchanges with the Department of Environment, they were forced to renew the rotting windows.
The location on which the houses stood, with the sea to the front and the almost marshy environment at the rear and no doubt beneath, it was little wonder they were damp.
Loch Striven, as the name implies, was a Petrol, Oil & Lubricating Depot which various ships of the NATO Fleet would visit. Due to staff housing, no armament ships were allowed to dock at the jetty, but following my departure at the end of1977 the MOD Police were withdrawn from Loch Striven and the houses demolished, allowing armament ships to visit and refuel. For the following twenty-two years I was employed by British Petroleum at Grangemouth, but that’s another story.
(Information regarding Port Edgar and Loch Striven can also be found on the Web, together with satellite images.)
About the Author
Derek Freeman was born in South Queensferry (the Ferry) in the shadow of the Forth Rail Bridge. He now lives in Bo’ness. He has been inspired to write about growing up in the Ferry in the 1950’s and 1960’s. You Can't Search Me, I'm An Officer is the latest instalment in his series of memoirs.