Every weekend, recruits from Catterick Garrison descend on Darlington’s pubs and clubs. Jim Entwistle joins military and civil police officers on patrol as they take a new approach to dissipating old tensions.

A GROUP of young soldiers stands in the shadow of a tree outside Route 66 nightspot in Darlington.

A few girls flit in and around the group, but something has caught Corporal Jock Fairweather’s eagle eye.

One of the lads, slightly obscured by the rest, is urinating on the grass verge.

The police van screeches to a halt. The lad desperately fumbles with his trousers. Too late.

Cpl Fairweather, of the regimental police, jumps from the back of the van and yells at the lad: “There’s no way I’m going to have you running around Darlington with your pants around your ankles.”

The lad’s a bunny in the headlights and there’s a fearsome Scot behind the wheel.

On top of possible court action, soldiers caught misbehaving like this one are often sent back to barracks and punished during the week, Army style.

This lad shows enough remorse to be let off with a caution, but Cpl Fairweather is not a man you would cross twice.

He is in Darlington as part of a new drive to clamp down on trouble involving soldiers in the town.

Cpl Fairweather rides in the police van with Sergeant Dave Kirton and PC Karl Fairest, both ex-service police officers, who attempt to spot the trouble before it really begins.

They even take the step of visiting recruits during their first six weeks of training to tell them what will happen if they step out of line.

Their presentation includes images of five young soldiers who were recently thrown out of the Army because of their conduct in Darlington.

Sgt Kirton says: “It’s about getting across to them the consequence of their actions.

“If they want to come to Darlington and behave like that, then there will be consequences.”

It is beginning to get results, and if problems still exist on the ground, the presence of regimental police like Cpl Fairweather serves to iron out any outstanding issues.

But part of the problem is the distrust between squaddies and locals. As Cpl Fairweather deals with the urinating lad, a local wanders up and tells him: “A Darlo lad never forgets a face.” It’s easy to see how rouble begins.

Another local lad breaks from the melee outside the club towards the police van.

Sgt Kirton recognises him from a few weeks ago, when a tussle with a young soldier left him with a broken jaw.

The lad appears at the open window and, obviously unaware of the military presence in the back seat, says: “Are you going to give me a lift to Escapade. It’s my birthday and there’s a load of d***head squaddies down there looking for a fight.”

Quick as a flash, Cpl Fairweather swings the van door open, and leaps out.

Towering over the young man, he barks: “Who are you calling d***khead?”

There’s laughing all round, but the lad decides not to push his luck and takes to the footpath.

But not everyone is as intimidated by the Scot. One partygoer, a woman a little older than most here, and perhaps a little more inebriated too, struts over to the van.

“When he jumped out then he looked just like Action Man,” she says, looking Cpl Fairweather up and down.

Then, clearly in a muddle over her action figures, adds: “I’ll be your Barbie if you’ll be my Ken.”

“Time to move on I think,”

says Cpl Fairweather, looking for the next sign of trouble.