Police Tactical Unit
On a parade ground and wooded hillsides near Fanling, hundreds
of policemen every day go through rigorous exercises to prepare
for action Hong Kong hopes will never be needed. It's precisely
because of that continuous training to deal with internal security
that six million citizens can sleep soundly every night. The Police
Tactical Unit, the foundry where Hong Kong's anti-riot police
are forged, is the best insurance the community can enjoy.
The Emergency Units, now stationed in every Region, fulfil many
roles. As the name suggests, they can be called out to bolster
local stations in times of crisis. Although the Force was always
prepared to cope with trouble in the streets, the present sophisticated
system grew directly out of two bloody days in 1956. The Double
Tenth riots, sparked off by a political confrontation, left 59
dead. It taught senior police and government officials a lesson
that has never been forgotten; be prepared.
Within a year, a sprawling military camp at Volunteer Slopes,
near Fanling, had been allocated as "temporary" site for the Police
Training Contingent. Those ageing Nissen huts were to house what
is now PTU for more than three decades. Now, in a splendid, purpose-built
complex, most police officers sometime in their career think about
the unthinkable.
The philosophy today remains basically unchanged from when PTU
was founded. The discipline is strict, the exercises stringent,
the pace exhaustive. The aim is to produce a regular stream of
companies trained in riot control and other techniques aimed at
public protection.
When a new company marches off the PTU parade ground, it is
sent , as a unit, to serve in a region. The Blue Berets are worn
with pride. Friendships made on the parade ground often last for
life.
The tactics and equipment which had been tested for almost a
decade were called suddenly into use in the spring of 1966 when
The Star Ferry riots erupted. There was no warning. One night,
the bustling streets of Hong Kong were busy and joyful. The next,
there were mobs, riots and looting. The PTU units so hurriedly
called out rapidly restored order.
This rehearsal was timely. The following year, Hong Kong entered
its most critical era when external politics resulted in ugly
riots, bombings and confrontation. This was the ultimate test,
not simply of training, but of valour and steadfastness. Police
as a whole and PTU in particular passed with banners flying.
By then, thousands of serving police officers back on the beat,
in stations and in crime investigation units had passed through
PTU. The companies could be put together swiftly to act as units
to control and channel the mobs. Those crowds of rioters looked
large. Although they numbered thousands, they were but a tiny
percentage of the population.
There have been occasions since when PTU companies have been
called out on instant alert for upheavals. The results have invariably
been positive. In reaction to the Tiananmen Square incident of
1989, criminals tried to shroud looting with patriotism. The trouble
was extinguished within minutes although global television which
replayed endlessly one 30-second segment made it seem Hong Kong
was in flames. In reality, PTU had quenched the riot before it
began.
Marine
With 142 vessels, the Marine Police has more ships than many
of the world's navies. The region covers not only Territory waters,
but more than 260 islands, some of them with major towns and fishing
villages that have stood for centuries. Traditionally, the police
launch was the only way to reach many of them.
The latest generation of patrol craft are very different from
the motley collection used by the founding Water Police in the
early days of the colony. Theirs was a formidable task battling
against hordes of pirates based on Cheung Chau and other islands,
who had long terrified the China Coast from Hainan to Swatow.
Pirates lasted well into living memory. A favourite ploy used
as recently as the 1940s would have gangs board coasters posing
as passengers. At sea, they would produce firearms, take over
the ship, rendezvous with partners in waiting junks and plunder
cargo holds and passengers.
Today's 2,449 Mariners have different, though no less dangerous
tasks. With counterparts in China, they attempt ceaselessly to
stem a lucrative two-way flow of contraband and smuggled goods.
From Hong Kong, stolen luxury cars and electronic appliances to
eager customers in China. From the Mainland, consignments of narcotics
and illegal immigrants, both highly profitable cargoes, are sneaked
on low-profile, high-speed boats to remote coves. The criminals
engaged in these rackets are on both sides of the border. So are
the men trying to catch them. Much of the success in cracking
down on this form of smuggling can be attributed to a special
unit set up in 1991, the Anti-Smuggling Task Force. Helped by
land-based colleagues, Customs officers, the Government Flying
Service and British Forces, these Mariners use captured speedboats
to match the smugglers. But this is highly dangerous work; night
sea chases often take place through heavy seas at more than 50
knots.
From their stately headquarters on a hill above Tsim Sha Tsui
waterfront, Marine Police cover a wide beat. The building they
occupy was erected in 1884 and is the oldest British structure
in Kowloon. Inside, momentoes of scores of vessels that have flown
the Hong Kong flag make it a living museum.
That history began in the narrow confines of the Fragrant Harbour
in 1846 when a junk-rigged lorcha was bought to patrol the Island.
It was lost with all 17 crew in a typhoon two years later. Other
early mariners were killed or maimed in frequent clashes with
pirates, who were raiding by night, attacking ships moored just
off Central's praya.
For a half century, the Harbour was patrolled by rowing boats
with constables armed with cutlass and musket. In 1893, the first
steam pinnaces were ordered. This was a vast improvement in efficiency,
but as Water Police (as they were then known) got as little as
$84 a year pay, there was little incentive. Marine sergeants got
less than half their land-bound counterparts.
The acquisition of the New Territories in 1898 meant an immense
difference to the way Marine operated. Instead of merely being
responsible for 16 square kilometres of enclosed harbour and the
shores of Hong Kong Island, they were now charged with keeping
the peace over 1800 square kilometres of water, 244 islands and
guarding a boundary line of 190 kilometres. Rapid expansion was
obviously necessary.
Some action was far from the Tsim Sha Tsui waterfront; in the
1930s White Russians were added to the contingent, acting as anti-piracy
units on Canadian Pacific ships, while mainly Indian and Shantung
guards served on Hong Kong vessels going up the Pearl River and
on coastal routes. During the great seamen's strikes of that era,
politically inspired and fuelled by terror and attacks, Marine
Police were particular targets.
Some vessels pressed into use by Marine over the decades have
been quaint workhorses. As row baats in the Harbour gave way to
steam, and coal was replaced by oil, the fleet over the years
has developed into a potent organisation. It is also highly flexible;
duties include not only patrolling distant territorial waters
and chasing smugglers but caring for the community. Many of the
150,000 people who live on islands depend in an emergency on Marine
Police to carry them to safety.
The latest generation of vessels, all of which were built in
Western Australia, would be regarded with awe by men who served
on steam-powered vessels of prewar vintage. Those venerable craft
were so low-slung, the water could be scooped up over the gun-wales.
The 33m ASL launches can patrol at up to 28 knots. Like their
bigger but older sisters, the two 40m command launches built in
Hong Kong in 1987, they can act as floating nerve-centres for
other vessels. The bridge and command deck is packed with the
most modern radar, communications, navigation and other hi-tech
equipment such as night-vision devices to spot darkened smuggling
vessels; prime examples of bringing science to the ancient art
of seafaring. All six vessels completed the 6,400-kilo-metre delivery
voyage from Australia and could, if needed, put out again to the
open vastness of the South China Sea on search and rescue operations.
The 420-ton steel launches can cruise at 14.7 knots for 3,200
kilometres. They comfortably sleep 33 crew and can carry 100 passengers.
The workhorses of the modern flotilla are the rugged Damen class
launches. The main engines of these 26-metre vessels can push
them through the permanently choppy waters of Victoria Harbour
at 24 knots. They also have special loitering engines that can
run on very little fuel to keep the craft patrolling slowly and
efficiently in one area, holding her steady against currents,
winds and tides.
Close inshore, the big launches are complemented by the new
Seaspray catamaran craft whose 35 knots top speed enables their
crew of four to respond fast to reports of sea-borne crime or
calls for help. Vessels for every purpose, they all fulfil the
role of policing the waters on which Hong Kong's export trade
depends and which are home, commuter route and playground for
hundreds of thousands of citizens.
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