# 'Police Training College, Part II.'



## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

First thing on the morning after our enrolment at the Police Training College... after spending a pleasant evening in the bar, where many of the drinkers were imbibing pint glasses of cold milk... we half shuffled out on to the parade ground to the tune of Colonel Bogie. The other four classes... two for each month of training... marched out as if they were part of the Scots Guard, as many of them and the instructors were. It didn't take long to realise that even a third of our own intake were ex-military, mostly serving some ten years in the armed forces. 'Me and old Dickie Palmer were in for some fun,' I sarcastically thought.
After being introduced to our instructors... ours being a very decent chap whose name now evades me... we were hustled out on to the parade ground for our rights-of-passage into square-bashing. Being the tallest in our class, I was always positioned on a corner of the squad.
And if anyone was going to make a mistake at the harshly barked orders of the drill sergeant, it was going to be me... as I couldn't slightly hesitate to see what the instructor was shouting before making my move. Many an occasion, I had to run in full uniform with great-coat the mile up the drive, then back to the squad and carry on breathlessly with the others as before.
When we were assembled for unarmed combat training on the quadrangle, the short, bumtious drill sergeant, who had spent fifteen years in the Royal Scots Guards, stepped forward and ordered a volunteer to attack him. He looked at us ranged in front of him in a line and pointed to me, seeing that I was the tallest. "You!" he shouted at me. "Attack me!"
I could see this was a set-up, just so he could bumptiously show off his skills in unarmed combat to the rest of the class. There was no point in objecting to his command regarding asking for a volunteer, so I stepped forward to engage with him.

He was ex-military and super-fit, and no doubt trained to the hilt in his martial art. He was expecting this young country boy... in his eyes, anyway... straight from the wilds of Suffolk, to throw him a punch. And then, in double-quick time through several karate moves, I would find myself on the ground with my arm bent up my back.
'Right, you smart git!' I thought to myself. 'Just you wait and see.' I'd been dealing with short, bumtious fools like him all my life. Talk about short person syndrome! I moved in front of him and raised my right hand in a fist ready to punch him in the face, then stepped forward. 
He came at me as if he was Bruce Lee in one of his films... low and fast... ready to put me in a Judeo grip and throw me to the ground. But I enclosed him in my arms and picked him off the ground. All his Judeo holds and training were of little use to him now, as he couldn't use his strength to overbalance me.
He was flailing in my arms... his arms and legs whirring about like a windmill ... but it did him no good. I dug my thumbs into the arch of his back each side of the spine and gripped him even harder. I could tell from his red face that he was having trouble breathing.
"Put me down, you bastard!" he shouted at me. "Put me down this minute!" He was openly panting for breath, as I was crushing his lungs in my grip.
When I thought he'd had enough, and that my point had been made clear to him and all the students, I bent slightly forward, bending him backwards, then thrust out my stomach and let go of him at the same time.
He hit the tarmac parade ground on his back with a thump, then bounded to his feet again as if spring-loaded. "I'll get you for this!" he shouted at me. "Just you wait... you bastard!" He brushed himself down, then picked on a smaller student to dishonour in front of the class. He never picked on me again... nor did anybody else, for that matter.
I glanced up at the Commandant's balcony, seeing some movement out of the corner of my eye. He was watching us, alright, dressed in his full Commandant's uniform. 'That will give you something to think about,' I thought to myself. To be continued. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.


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## tsell (Apr 29, 2008)

Oh, you nasty brute, you!!(LOL)

Taff


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## colcur (May 15, 2017)

A cracking addition to this thread Cap'n. Well done


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## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

*For tsell.*

G,day, Taff, it's good to hear from you from down in the land of Oz. How are you making out down there? I'm glad you liked my last posting, and it was a pleasure reminiscing about the days of my youth... some fifty two years ago. This was set in the days even before 'Heartbeat', when there were no police radios, with only the blue police phone boxes on the street corners. Ipswich Police Force had only two area cars and a van, apart from the Road Traffic Division... and the regular Bobby on the beat had very little to do with these 'Brillcream Boys'. I hope you enjoyed the story, as there is more to come. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.


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## tsell (Apr 29, 2008)

...'course I fkn well enjoyed it, Dick - who the hell wouldn't!

Cheers mate!

Taff


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## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

*For colcur.*

G,day, calcur, its good to hear from you, and I'm glad you liked my posting, set in the days of my youth. It was only one week after my nineteenth birthday when I applied to join the Ipswich Police Force, and I took my oath to the Queen and signed my do***ents of employment five weeks later. This story happened only a week after that date, spending thirteen weeks at Einsham Hall, Number Five Police Training College, in Oxfordshire. There is still plenty more to come. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.


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## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

*For tsell.*

It's good to hear back from you, Taff, so promptly. I've just written up the third part of the story, and I know you will enjoy it when I post it next weekend. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.


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## jaguar1robert (May 7, 2012)

Thoroughly enjoyed the description of training at EynshamHall, Oxon., The drill sgts name was Sgt Vincent..Bristling white moustache. Cant remember the name of the shortarsed unarmed combat instructor but he was a real sod. Great days, I was there in 1963.


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## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

*For jaguar1robert.*

G'day, jaguar1robert, it's good to hear from you. I tried to post you a reply, but it was blocked. I'll try again tomorrow. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.


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## ChasH (May 23, 2014)

*trainning*



Cpt Dick Brooks said:


> First thing on the morning after our enrolment at the Police Training College... after spending a pleasant evening in the bar, where many of the drinkers were imbibing pint glasses of cold milk... we half shuffled out on to the parade ground to the tune of Colonel Bogie. The other four classes... two for each month of training... marched out as if they were part of the Scots Guard, as many of them and the instructors were. It didn't take long to realise that even a third of our own intake were ex-military, mostly serving some ten years in the armed forces. 'Me and old Dickie Palmer were in for some fun,' I sarcastically thought.
> After being introduced to our instructors... ours being a very decent chap whose name now evades me... we were hustled out on to the parade ground for our rights-of-passage into square-bashing. Being the tallest in our class, I was always positioned on a corner of the
> squad.
> And if anyone was going to make a mistake at the harshly barked orders of the drill sergeant, it was going to be me... as I couldn't slightly hesitate to see what the instructor was shouting before making my move. Many an occasion, I had to run in full uniform with great-coat the mile up the drive, then back to the squad and carry on breathlessly with the others as before.
> ...


Good on you Cpt guess he thought i will drop the biggest just to let them all know, boy was he wrong, sometimes when that happens you can become good friends i was on a shell tanker we had this bully always picking on boy ratings then one day we were helping the pumpman to swing valves and he picked on me, so i striped him with the valve spanner he went out like a light plus a few stitches, but never bullied any one again and no we didnt become friends all the best chasH


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## Cpt Dick Brooks (May 13, 2013)

*For ChadH.*

G'day, ChasH, it's good to hear from you. Yes, I leant that when I started secondary at Tower Ramparts, in Ipswich... the toughest school in town. The fourth year boys would pick on the new first year boys and force them to start smoking, so they could bludge their cigarettes whenever they wanted. This was back in 1957. Almost all the new intake started smoking, but they made a mistake when they picked on me. Even at 11 years old, I was six foot tall, and knew how to handle myself. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't one of the bully-boys in the lower class of my year, but in the top of the first six in the upper class.
The bully-boys used to put the new intake in the stocks to force their will on them. This was a set of steel bars in a fence, and they would bend your arms in the stocks until you agreed to do anything. But they made their big mistake when one of them picked on me.
I put him in a full-choke headlock and kicked my feet forward, putting my whole weight on his throat. I held him for a few seconds as he thrashed wildly, until he went limp. I released him from my grip in front of all his so-called hard mates with little more than a second left of his miserable life. The yob s*** never tried anything with me again, and strangely enough, there were quite a few of the weaker techie kids wanting to be my friends. And when I became a prefect in my forth year, everyone in that school knew how things stood with me. I leant real young how to stand up for myself, and anyone who wanted some only had to ask me nicely. All the best, Cpt Dick Brooks.


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