Two years ago Gary Pettengell was appointed seafront beat officer in the kiss-me-quick resort of Great Yarmouth. His working day consisted of reuniting lost kids with their parents, checking teenage high spirits and directing holidaymakers in the direction of ice cream, cash machines and toilets.

The resort’s long-established Greek Cypriot and Portuguese communities had recently been joined by a group of disorientated new arrivals – Lithuanians. Brought in on dodgy contracts, they were ignorant of British laws - including those regarding employment and health and safety. On top of which most were broke. ‘I remember going into a room to meet a group of fifty and at the sight of the uniform they shrank away and clammed up,’  he says. ‘I thought, no, that isn't how we do policing here.’
 

PC Gary Pettengell response was to search the internet for Teach Yourself Lithuanian courses. This led him to research the world of Lithuanian immigrant labour. He was shocked by what he learned. They didn't speak English, they worked together in factories, they lived crowded together in small rooms and they had to pay for the minibuses that ferried them to and from work. And if the economy suffered a downturn they'd be the first to lose their jobs.

'A lot of them had been promised a pot of gold,’ says Pc Gary Pettengell. ‘But I came across people who literally hadn't eaten for a week. And that way, we got people coming into the criminal justice system - like for stealing a loaf of bread - who simply shouldn't have been there.’

Lithuanian is one of the most difficult languages in the world. But PC Pettengell was determined to learn it. With the help of a phrasebook and a CD set that he listened to in the car, he managed to master enough Lithuanian to communicate. ‘I'd find myself answering the same questions again and again - simple things like how do you open a bank account? Easy? Not when you share a room and can't produce a utility bill. And then there was how do you get a national insurance card? Or first, what is a national insurance card? I might only have pidgin Lithuanian, but the people here appreciate it. It goes a long way to be able to say “Hello,” “Goodbye,” and “How are you?”’

PC Pettengell started a programme offering basic help and advice on a one-to-one basis. He also set up a Welcome to Norfolk website, posting information he knew was most needed. He raised the funds for these initiatives from the Criminal Justice Board.

His work didn't go unnoticed. Last year PC Pettengell won Norfolk's Community Officer of the Year Award. Meanwhile local Lithuanians spread the word of his good deeds back home. His Lithuanian was put to the test when Vilnius newspapers and the country's Channel 3 TV flew over to interview him. It was then he discovered that he had been nominated for the Pride of Lithuania Award. Other candidates had also been interviewed and filmed. They included a scientist saving orangutans in Sumatra, a priest rehabilitating drug abusers, and families who had coped with disasters. Tens of thousands of Lithuanians watched the films and then voted. The British bobby won.

PC Pettengell received his award from Lithuania's EU commissioner. Lithuania's Police Commissioner also conferred another special honour on him.

‘The constable did much more than just learning some Lithuanian,’ said Rima Olberkyte-Stankus, a spokesman for the TV3 channel. ‘He taught Lithuanians how to build a community, how to hold together.’