Many years ago when I was in high school, two of my friends and I were riding in a car together in Norwichtown when we came upon a horrible site. A train had struck a car at the crossing intersection of Otrobando Avenue and Pleasant Street, knocking the car down an embankment onto the bank of the Yantic River.

As the accident had occurred moments earlier, we stopped, of course, and checked on the woman inside the badly damaged car, who was badly shaken, but not seriously injured. As there were no cell phones back then, two of us — Billy Shea and I — were at something of a loss about what to do. However, the third, Larry Rice, broke into a full sprint away from the accident to summon police and an ambulance.

Larry was a star track and cross country runner at Norwich Free Academy, so it didn’t take him long to find a phone to report the accident. Soon after, police and an ambulance arrived. Had the woman been more seriously injured, Larry’s quick and decisive action might actually have saved her life.

As we left the scene, I remember being impressed with Larry’s response, and couldn’t help but think it played a part in his decision a few years later to become an officer with the Norwich Police Department.

Larry was a good guy, but like the rest of us, could get into mischief as a high school student. None of us were angels, you see. So, many in our circle of frriends were surprised when Larry became a policeman in his hometown of Norwich.

While seeing Larry in a policeman’s uniform took some getting used to, his was a career that would extend for decades of service, enforcing the law and protecting the public in Norwich. Good for him.

Police work requires a special kind of individual. It is certainly not a profession for everyone. I know I could not have done it, what with responding to car accidents, drownings, homicides, domestic assaults and other violence, working on weekends and holidays, overnight shifts and being out in all kinds of extreme weather.

Taking on the challenges of this kind of work requires a calling, and I have always held great respect for the men and women who sign up for it.

There are, of course, bad actors, as there are in any profession — from politicians to newspaper reporters, doctors, lawyers and accountants, all brands of blue- and white-collar professions. The vast majority, however, get into police work for the right reasons and are in the job and dedicated to it for the long haul, which makes me respect them that much more.

Among the greatest municipal police officers was a fellow I’d never had the privilege of meeting, but about whom I had heard many great things. That’s why it was heartening to learn that Ray Boenig Sr., arguably the greatest Norwich Police officer based on his own decades of distinguished service, was recently honored posthumously in Norwich by Mayor Peter Nystrom, Police Chief Patrick Daley, and members of Boenig’s family as a plaque commemorating Boenig’s induction into the National Policeman’s Hall of Fame was unveiled.

Boenig served as a member of the department from 1934 to 1972, having begun work as a constable, and continuing to serve as a crossing guard at the Wequonnoc School in Taftville after he retired. He also served as chief of the Taftville Volunteer Fire Department. During his nearly four decades on the NPD, Beonig’s coverage area consisted of Taftville, Occum, Norwichtown, East Great Plains, and he was on-call, if not on-duty, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. He was the epitome of public service.

I recall a number of other fine Norwich Police officers from the past such as Lt. Dan Jenkins, who rose to become Norwich’s highest-ranking African-American policeman; former Chiefs Lou Fusaro and Dick Abele; Jim Dignoti, who would also go on to serve as an inspector in the State’s Attorney’s Office; Ray Owens, Joe May, and Gerry Egan, who would be elected New London County Sheriff in 1994.

I will be forever grateful to Lt. Jenkins, who caught three friends and I throwing snowballs at cars one winter night in the 1970s, and asked if I thought he should arrest us or turn us in to our parents. I was pretty sure at the time that whatever punishment our parents would have issued would be more severe than anything the criminal justice system could mete out.

He ultimately let us off with a stern warning that if we so much as rolled through a stop sign in the future he would “bring down the hammer.”

Current Chief Daley is the son of my favorite teacher, the late Viola Day Daley, who taught fourth grade at the John B. Stanton School, and made learning fun for all of her students. Having risen through the ranks earlier in his career as patrolman, community policing officer, detective, sergeant, lieutenant, captain, deputy chief and acting chief, her son was promoted to chief five years ago.

He had also served as chief of the East Great Plains Fire Department, but gave up that position when he was named police chief.

Besides those Norwich Police officers, I knew many state and municipal policemen, some of whom became friends, like Bill Dittman, who headed the Detective Division in New London before becoming a captain there, then finishing his career as Chief of the Mashantucket Pequot Police Department. Paul Slyman was diligent Chief of Detectives in Willimantic during a period when there was never a shortage of criminal activity in The Thread City. I have fond memories of the bond between Old Saybrook Police Chief Ed Mosca and his lifetime best friend, Capt. Tom O’Brien, who had their hands full in a small town where population doubled during the summer.

Retired Waterford Chief Bud Pendleton is a good friend and fellow Floridian, and his former colleague, the late Tom Viens, who would later become Chief Inspector with the New London County State’s Attorney’s Office, was as good and decent a man as I’d ever met.

Todd Lynch followed his father, a former New London Police lieutenant, into law enforcement, first as a state trooper, then as an officer with the New London Police Department, where he also headed the police union and was an aggressive advocate and defender for law enforcement before retiring earlier this year.

The Connecticut State Police also boasted a number of outstanding officers. The late Ed Funk, who retired after a distinguished career in the State Police to head The 100 Club of Connecticut, was a dear friend. He was succeeded in that position by another retired State Police officer, Lt. Bill Sydenham, who recently retired after a second great career at The 100 Club.

Michael Malchik was the State Police detective whose dogged investigating ultimately got a confession from serial killer Michael Ross, who was executed in 2005 for the 1980s murders of eight young women and girls. It was always a pleasure to see retired Troopers Jack Luty, Ned Pickett, John Herman and Bob O’Shaughnessy. After his retirement from the State Police, Herman was elected to the Norwich City Council.

Another friend, former Trooper Harry Boardsen, served a number of years later in his career as the State Police press spokesman and founded a highly successful private security firm after he retired. Another former Trooper, Joel Riley, would become the New London Police Department’s press spokesman at a time when I was covering the police beat for The Day back in the mid-1980s. Riley and I might have differed on what information should be released about police activity, but we could always put aside our differences at the end of the workday and be friends.

During my time covering the police beat for The Day in 1985-86 and before that as a reporter at the Norwich Bulletin, I encountered hundreds of police officers in various capacities in various venues. The vast majority were professional and dedicated to their jobs, though there were also a handful of bad apples who abused their authority or didn’t measure up to the higher threshold to which they are held.

Some of them made it clear they didn’t like or trust reporters, which I usually understood, but sometimes tried to change. Most came around, but others wouldn’t let it go, not ever, which was their prerogative.

Most of us would never want such a difficult job for the physical and emotional toll it takes, but we owe thanks to those who do. Defunding the police is probably the single worst idea I’ve ever heard, in part because it punishes many for the misdeeds of a relative few, but it also begs the question when you need help in an emergency. As the song’s lyrics ask: “Who ya gonna call?”

Bill Stanley, a former vice president at L+M Hospital, grew up in Norwich.