Trooper Down! (7 page)

“We're gonna get you like you're
supposed 
to be,” Sergeant Oliver cuts in, “and that means no squared-off, jitterbugged haircuts, no beards, no mustaches. Sideburns will be rectangular in shape, with hair no longer than the top of your collar. That goes for you women too.

“If you forgot something at home, that's your problem. We told you what to bring. Phones are off limits till Monday. You'll be too busy for that. We'll have daily devotions in class. If anyone is opposed to that, you can sit quietly on the steps at the back door. Sinus headaches, sore muscles, ingrown toenails, stomach cramps are
not 
gonna get you out of physical training. And God help you if we think
you're trying to sandbag us. You'll get a rude awakening when your butt lands on the floor. We'll assist you if you have problems. But don't try to pull any wool over our eyes.”

Later that day, a cadet is caught smoking and has to run two miles while puffing on a cigarette. Another is found sitting down when he should have been cleaning his room. For punishment, the entire squadron of cadets is sent outside to perform a hundred push-ups.

By the next morning, two cadets have resigned.

“Sergeant,” one says mournfully, “I woke up this morning and couldn't see no mountains. I've got to go home.”

Before the week is out, others will follow. The average dropout rate is five to ten cadets during the first two weeks.

“There's a tremendous adjustment required in the beginning,” explained Sergeant Oliver, whose harsh manner is artificially induced. Away from his charges, he is a pleasant, easy-going man.

“For some of these young people, cadet school is almost like culture shock. They've never been exposed to anything like it. About the second week, they become acclimated and the rules and regulations begin to make sense to them. For instance, when they undergo physical training each morning, I make them look at the instructor because when they're out on patrol and stop a car, they better not be looking at the ground. They need to focus on the person who's talking to them and stay alert to their surroundings.

“They begin to realize the importance of the physical workouts when we explain there will be people depending on them to provide help. Or that they may be on their own, with no help except their own ability to handle the problem.

“We teach punctuality because if they're assigned to a traffic block on patrol and they don't show up on time, there'll be a major problem.

“But the main thing we stress is self-discipline. Once a trooper's training is complete, there's no supervisor with him on the road, so he must be self-motivated enough to do the job alone.”

Initiative and “pluck”—elusive qualities that are more inbred than learned—are what the patrol looks for in a good trooper, says Oliver.

“When you're tired and disgusted and have no more breath in you, are you the type that will get back up?” said a former instructor at the school. “Those are the kind of people we want. Because if I call you to the scene of an accident to assist me, I've got to know I can count on you to back me up.”

The hours from eight to five each day at school are filled with classes, introducing students to patrol history (the organization was established in 1929 with ten members), structure (the patrol falls under the state's Crime Control and Public Safety Department), and geographic makeup (there are eight troops statewide, divided into forty-two districts throughout one hundred counties). Other courses include law enforcement philosophy, English, the “10”-signal numeric communication codes used by the patrol, laws of arrest, search and seizure, and constitutional basics.

Juvenile laws, drug enforcement, crisis management, techniques of traffic enforcement, transportation of hazardous materials, criminal investigations, use and care of firearms, pursuit driving, accident investigations, motor vehicle laws, civil disorders, self-defense techniques, courtroom practice, and a tour of the highway patrol headquarters comprise the last half of the course.

Physical training continues daily, along with periodic white-glove inspections.

About halfway through the twenty-week course, says Sergeant Oliver, group psychology takes over and the individual cadets begin to think, feel, and act as a single unit.

“When it happens, you can see it. On the morning runs, they'll all end up together, patting each other on the back, proud of what they've accomplished. They are working together as a team, so that when someone slips up, the others will step in as a group and tell him to shape up. It's peer pressure and peer support, and it's more effective than anything I can do or say.”

W. F. (“Butch”) Whitley, Jr., twenty-eight, has a degree in business administration. He was a purchasing manager for a distribution company when he decided to join the highway patrol.

“My father was a fire chief, so I was brought up around law enforcement,” he said. “I got tired of being a paper shuffler and wanted to do something where I could help people and be my own boss. I chose the highway patrol because they were considered the ‘elite' in my area and I had a lot of respect for the organization.

“I thought I had a little advantage when I first entered school, because my best friend graduated two years ago and he told me what to expect. But it was nothing like that. You try to prepare yourself, but it's something you have to experience to understand. The biggest surprise was the environment—having someone standing over you
all the time. You knew they wouldn't abuse you physically, but there's a mental pressure to ‘make it.' At the same time, I looked forward to seeing if I could get through, seeing what I was made of.

“At first, everyone was extremely intimidated by the instructors. Later, the intimidation didn't ease up, but the attitude on our part turned to respect as we began to see that the instructors were trying to help us—not only as people but as law enforcement officers. I have a great deal of respect for them now. They had to suffer through this the same as we did—leaving their families behind in order to be here, getting up each morning before we did, working long after we went to bed.

“In the beginning, everyone helps everyone else. The first week, someone was caught sitting on a desk top and we were all called out. We had to run laps and everybody wondered why we had to pay for one person's mistake. Then we realized that not all of us are good at everything and we'd have to learn to pull together as a team. It helped us develop a sense of camaraderie. I know that no matter where I am in the state, I can count on another trooper to come by and look out for my family or whatever needs to be done. There's a lot of pride in ‘looking after our own.'

“Some weeks were boring, with all the classwork. But I enjoyed the defensive tactics. Boxing was no fun at
all. 
But this is where the group really began to jell. You're standing toe-to-toe with your roommate or friend and you have to fight him, physically hurt him. It makes you closer to that person. When it was over, there were hugs and tears.

“What I disliked most was getting up at 5:00
A.M. 
and starting the day all over again. That's when you hear the moans and groans.

“If we had a theme through school, I guess it was to carry the same discipline we've learned onto the road. We have a responsibility to live up to certain standards so we don't tarnish the image of the patrol. I think it's that kind of integrity that makes a good trooper. Being fair to people, doing what's right. I like to think that's the kind of trooper I'll be. I get along well with people and try to be understanding. I'm not hard-nosed, but I have enough self-confidence to know I can handle myself if someone turns on me. The main thing I worry about is remembering the basic skills I've learned and not slipping up, making stupid mistakes.”

Arthur (“Artie”) Branch, a former firefighter from Lumberton, was thirty-two when he switched careers to become a state trooper.

“I was at an age when I knew I had to make a decision. My wife told rne about six years ago she'd never be married to a highway patrolman, but we got divorced after that anyway, so I went ahead and joined.

“I had grown up around the patrol because my father was head of communications at Troop B in Lumberton. I was always impressed by troopers' professionalism and their sense of public service. And I thought the pay was pretty good.

“The worst part of school were the first few days—the academic work load, the physical training, and no time to do it all. I had been out of school a long while and it was a strain to keep up with the ones who had a degree or prior law enforcement experience. Like everyone else, I thought about quitting.

“School is rough, there's no doubt about it. Some cadets said if their wives had told them on weekend leave not to go back, they wouldn't have. I experienced that too. But now I feel I'm in the best physical shape I've ever been in, and I'm ready to go out on the road. I know I have a lot to learn and I'll be nervous until I get it down pat, but they've prepared us well. I'm ready for whatever happens.

“I guess what I liked best were the firearms training and the pursuit driving. Putting on the uniform for the first time felt good too. You put on your ‘Smokey Bear' hat and look at yourself in the mirror and it's just a real proud feeling.”

Uniforms are issued the last week of school. Each cadet receives six gray, long-sleeved shirts, three pairs of black shoes, six pairs of gray pants, a yellow raincoat, a foul-weather fur-collared jacket, an “Ike” coat (named after President Eisenhower, who made waist-length jackets popular during World War II), one summer and one winter hat, plus accessories—nameplate, tie tack, whistle chain, neckties, belt, badge, handcuffs, holster, and firearm—all at a cost to state taxpayers of more than $900 per cadet,

Troopers are allowed a yearly clothing allowance to replace lost or damaged items, but the total must not exceed $300. Each officer is responsible for keeping his uniforms clean and sharply pressed.

Through the years, the patrol has learned that troopers who exhibit
a good appearance help bolster the organization's professional image. That's why even in summer, long-sleeved uniform shirts are required. Shoes, belts, and holsters have a “clarino” finish designed to resist scuffs and keep a permanent shine. Pants are made of a wrinkle-resistant wool and polyester blend, while the campaign-style hats lend an air of authority.

Though cadets enjoy donning the uniform for the first time, it is getting the patrol car that really enthralls them.

Two days before graduation, the Seventy-Ninth Basic School cadets are scheduled to ride a bus across town and drive their patrol cars back to school. But it has snowed the night before—an almost unheard-of sixteen inches in Raleigh—and instead, they are shoveling snow and ice from the walkways outside the training center.

As a measure of how far the class has come in terms of discipline, no one complains about the delay. By late afternoon, Major Robert Barefoot, administrative director of training, and his staff decide the patrol vehicles can be brought to the school after all.

They arrive in procession, a steady stream of black-and-silver cruisers, Ford Crown Victorias marked “State Trooper,” each sporting the distinctive blue-and-gold state seal on the front door panels. Behind the wheels of the forty-two cars are forty-two excited cadets, some of whom can hardly contain their enthusiasm.

“This is a good ole car. I'm tickled to death with it,” says one soon-to-be rookie. “Can I sleep in it tonight, Sarge?”

Despite the inclement weather, the cadets vigorously wash and wax the vehicles, fiddle with the radios, the blue lights and sirens, and check and double-check to see that everything's in working order.

In the early days, North Carolina troopers rode motorcycles. An officer who stopped someone had to find a safe place to park, drive the arrested person to jail in the individual's car, then hitch a ride back to his machine. At wreck investigations, all he could do to help victims was locate a phone to call an ambulance, or flag down a motorist and ask him to take the injured party to the hospital.

By 1939, the patrol realized motorcycles were impractical and dangerous (several troopers were killed in motorcycle accidents while on duty) and replaced them with Ford sedans. One-way radio receivers were installed so a patrolman could receive messages from
the dispatcher. But he had no way to acknowledge, nor could he communicate with other troopers.

Things improved only slightly during the next decade.

“My first patrol car was a '49 Ford with 95,000 miles on it,” recalls a retired trooper. “It was in pretty good mechanical shape, but the inside was raw. It had a small heater in it on the passenger side, so if you rode with another officer, you took turns getting your feet warmed. We had no blue lights so we bought these big spotlights and flashed them out the window at people we wanted to stop. There was no extra equipment available—nothing to fix a flat, just a tow chain, a shovel, and an axe. If there was anything else we needed, we had to pay for it ourselves.”

Today, North Carolina patrol cars each have an electronic siren and public address system. Speakers are mounted under the blue light. Standard equipment includes shotgun and ammunition, axe, riot baton, booster cables, broom, clipboard, crowbar, dosimeter for measuring radioactivity during nuclear spills, first-aid kit, flares, fire extinguisher, gas mask, rain leggings, steel tape, tire chains, tire-tread depth indicator, shovel, wrench, and other assorted tools.

All of North Carolina's patrol cars feature high performance 351 engines with a speed capacity of 110 mph. Supporting the electrical equipment is a 100-amp alternator, which runs the siren, radio, and blue light, and allows the vehicle to idle safely for up to two hours. The cars are mounted with standard radial tires and are serviced every 6,000 miles. After 70,000 miles, they are turned in and sold to other state or local agencies.