Read Online No Easy Ride: Reflections on My Life in the RCMP by Ian Parsons - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ian Parsons
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Most left early. My brief career lay in tatters. I received the silent treatment for days and washed police cars for weeks. People sentenced to the gulag had better lives. Just when I had given up all hope and was contemplating applying to join foreign armies, my transgression was forgiven. Then there were weeks of fending off snide comments from members as my fame spread throughout the subdivision and further. It was a hard lesson learned. Never before had I inserted my foot so far in my mouth than on that lonely Christmas evening many years ago.
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As my career unfolded I learned that many NCOs of this era suffered from alcoholism. While this was a common affliction among middle managers in many professions at the time, much of the excessive drinking within the RCMP was due to stress caused by inadequate personnel and long hours. There was a stark contrast between the discipline and compliance with the rules espoused in the training division and reinforced by management and the realities of detachment policing. Much of the blurring of lines between on- and off-duty behaviour was attributable to the lack of shift work at smaller outposts. Members were expected to be available to attend to any kind of emergency and were never truly off duty. Accordingly, we all tended to take advantage of spare moments when the phone didn’t demand our attention. The unwritten philosophy was “work hard but play hard.” Three hundred–hour work months were the rule rather than the exception, and this grinding workload encouraged some rule bending when it came to socializing on the job. It was not uncommon for on-duty members to drop in on a party if there were no demands for their services. In spite of this informality, calls were rarely missed and work assignments always completed. The countless examples of good and ethical police work far outnumbered the rare examples of neglect.
Thankfully, the imbibing NCO I had initially encountered was only there in the detachment commander’s absence. When he returned, I learned I would serve under Corporal John Russell, a competent professional. Formalized field training for recruits had not yet been introduced, so their indoctrination was left to the discretion of the detachment commander. Corporal Russell struck a perfect balance between providing necessary supervision and giving me sufficient latitude to develop independently. Additionally, I was fortunate to work with six seasoned veterans as I began to accumulate the skills, knowledge and wiles I would need in my law-enforcement career.
THE COMMUNITY OF Willmore was located squarely in the oil patch, with up to 20 oil rigs operating in the district at any one time. Each rig was a small industrial enclave headed up by a foreman, known as a tool push, and three drillers, each with a contingent of roughnecks working round-the-clock shifts. Approximately 24 people lived in bunkhouses at the isolated rig, which also had a mess hall doling out gourmet meals. Many of the rigs were classified as “tight holes,” which meant security was strict and access to the site closely controlled. Rival drilling companies hired spies called scouts, who were paid large sums of money to infiltrate the rig site and gather information. Scouts would scale trees and view the premises with binoculars in an attempt to count the lengths of drill pipe, which would indicate how far down the rig was drilling. Scouts plied off-duty riggers with drinks and even cash to garner information. Occasionally, security staff would detect these spies and pursue them on Ski-Doos and four by fours in wild chases that sometimes ended with apprehension and assaults. It was an extremely dangerous lifestyle, filled with hard physical work and adventure.
Off-duty rig crews frequented bars and restaurants in town, leaving huge amounts of money and havoc in their wake. Any disturbances they caused invariably came to the attention of the RCMP, generating hours of work. The oil companies
----
As my career unfolded I learned that many NCOs of this era suffered from alcoholism. While this was a common affliction among middle managers in many professions at the time, much of the excessive drinking within the RCMP was due to stress caused by inadequate personnel and long hours. There was a stark contrast between the discipline and compliance with the rules espoused in the training division and reinforced by management and the realities of detachment policing. Much of the blurring of lines between on- and off-duty behaviour was attributable to the lack of shift work at smaller outposts. Members were expected to be available to attend to any kind of emergency and were never truly off duty. Accordingly, we all tended to take advantage of spare moments when the phone didn’t demand our attention. The unwritten philosophy was “work hard but play hard.” Three hundred–hour work months were the rule rather than the exception, and this grinding workload encouraged some rule bending when it came to socializing on the job. It was not uncommon for on-duty members to drop in on a party if there were no demands for their services. In spite of this informality, calls were rarely missed and work assignments always completed. The countless examples of good and ethical police work far outnumbered the rare examples of neglect.
Thankfully, the imbibing NCO I had initially encountered was only there in the detachment commander’s absence. When he returned, I learned I would serve under Corporal John Russell, a competent professional. Formalized field training for recruits had not yet been introduced, so their indoctrination was left to the discretion of the detachment commander. Corporal Russell struck a perfect balance between providing necessary supervision and giving me sufficient latitude to develop independently. Additionally, I was fortunate to work with six seasoned veterans as I began to accumulate the skills, knowledge and wiles I would need in my law-enforcement career.
THE COMMUNITY OF Willmore was located squarely in the oil patch, with up to 20 oil rigs operating in the district at any one time. Each rig was a small industrial enclave headed up by a foreman, known as a tool push, and three drillers, each with a contingent of roughnecks working round-the-clock shifts. Approximately 24 people lived in bunkhouses at the isolated rig, which also had a mess hall doling out gourmet meals. Many of the rigs were classified as “tight holes,” which meant security was strict and access to the site closely controlled. Rival drilling companies hired spies called scouts, who were paid large sums of money to infiltrate the rig site and gather information. Scouts would scale trees and view the premises with binoculars in an attempt to count the lengths of drill pipe, which would indicate how far down the rig was drilling. Scouts plied off-duty riggers with drinks and even cash to garner information. Occasionally, security staff would detect these spies and pursue them on Ski-Doos and four by fours in wild chases that sometimes ended with apprehension and assaults. It was an extremely dangerous lifestyle, filled with hard physical work and adventure.
Off-duty rig crews frequented bars and restaurants in town, leaving huge amounts of money and havoc in their wake. Any disturbances they caused invariably came to the attention of the RCMP, generating hours of work. The oil companies
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