Trudging across muddy moorland on a cold October morning, policeman George Hobson knew this was the investigation that would be forever logged in his mind.

Clutching a wooden stick which he had taken from the broom cupboard at home earlier that day, he walked in line with hundreds of fellow officers – probing the ground with every step.

It was October 16, 1965, and the officers, who had been drafted in from various divisions, were working on one of the biggest and most vile murder cases ever to happen in the UK – The Moors Murders.

Wearing Wellington boots and overcoats, they battled against the autumn winds to search over Saddleworth Moor for the bodies of children killed by Ian Brady and Myra Hindley.

As he walked, George’s thoughts drifted to his own family – wife Joan, (then 28) toddler Mark and baby Angela. It was then that a shout from a fellow officer confirmed everyone’s worst fears.

The body of ten-year-old Lesley Ann Downey had been found, just yards from where George was standing.

“I often think about that day in the month of October,” he said. “It was a horrible experience but one I was quite prepared to take on. Every single officer felt like that. We knew it had to be done for the families of those children to get closure. In those days there was no counselling or anything like that for officers. We just had to get on with it. It wasn’t easy.”

George, who is now 72, and his wife Joan, also 72, have started writing down their memories of his former career, which are more likely to resemble the type of storyline seen in television favourite Heartbeat.

George said: “I have many happy memories looking back but the Moors investigation is one that sticks in my mind as one of those jobs you’d rather forget but can’t. As part of our job we had to hear the tapes of Lesley Ann. You don’t forget that in a hurry.”

George was stationed at a police house in Marsden, near Huddersfield, at the time of the Moors case.

Joan said the first she knew of his involvement was when she realised her broom and gardening tools had been left without handles.

She said: “We knew what was going on because it was all over the news. When I saw that the broom handles were gone I put two and two together. George was never queasy about death or any of the other more unsavoury parts of the job. He never said that much about it afterwards, but I know that that particular case left its mark.”

George, who was born and bred in Ilkley, also spent time at Birstall, Slaithwaite and Kettlewell during his career.

He joined the force in his early 20s after serving with the Coldstream Guards, 1st Battalion. During his time in the forces he had also trained as a chef and learned butchery.

He said: “I think that’s why I wasn’t squeamish about the job – because I had done butchery.

“I remember my first ever job at Birstall. I was on nights and I was on my own when I was asked to go to a road traffic accident. It was a milk van and two drunken young men had walked into the road. There were no street lights and one of them had gone right through the windscreen.

“It wasn’t pleasant when I got there but I just got on with it.”

But although the job had a darker side, perhaps George’s favourite memories were of his time at Kettlewell where he became part of the local community.

Policing in those days, he says, was totally different to how it is now. Without the use of DNA or hi-tech equipment, officers relied on their contacts in the local community and their instincts to help them out.

He said: “You soon got to know people in a village. We lived in the police house which always had the light on outside to let people know we were there. The job was 24/7 in those days and Joan was very much part of the job.

“She was often the first point of call if I was out on a job and people trusted and confided in her.”

George moved to Kettlewell just days after a group of students got washed down the lake near Kilnsey Craggs.

Although George wasn’t involved in the initial rescue, he did help to organise a memorial service when local farmers used their Land Rovers to transport the parents of the youngsters who perished.

His police house, near the maypole in the village, became a contact point for pot holers, who would inform George or his wife of their whereabouts and what time they expected to surface before venturing on an expedition.

If they did not appear at the allotted time, rescuers would be called in.

Joan said: “I remember getting the word about a boy who had got stuck in a pot hole. We rang round to get help and his father arrived. He noticed an old chair I had that the dog slept in and kept saying he would replace it for me. He had his own furniture business but I told him I wasn’t allowed to accept gifts.

“However, once his lad had been saved, they gave donations to the Fell Rescue and sent me the chair anyway. It was lovely. That was what it was like in those days – everyone looked out for each other.”

Without the use of mobile phones, George often had to walk for miles to find a telephone box and relied on locals for information.

He said: “I remember getting a call from a guy we called Hands because he had such big hands. He was a local farmer and had come across a suicide in a car. I went up with him and covered the scene and had to walk three miles to the nearest phone box to phone North Yorkshire Police because it was in their area.

“The scene was pretty gruesome but I just got on with it – it was my job.”

At other times, George was involved in rescues of people who ran into trouble on the moors.

On one particular occasion, Joan took the initial call. She said: “I got the word that a group of young folk who had been picnicking on the moor had got their car stuck and needed help.

“I had to ring the garage to get help but because they had had a few crank calls, the owner was suspicious. I just told him straight that I was the policeman’s wife and I needed help. We managed to get a rescue car up and brought the kids down to the house and I gave them buns and biscuits. I got a lovely letter from them thanking me – I still have it to this day.”

As well as general police work, officers were trained in First Aid and used to attend competitions to keep their skills up to date.

George used his knowledge of First Aid to help a man who had climbed up Kilnsey Craggs and fallen.

George said: “I always carried a pin in my lapel. When I found the injured young man he said he couldn’t feel his legs. I put the pin all along his leg and he could feel nothing. I put a spare coat between his legs and tied my overcoat round his legs and we took him down on the Fell Rescue sled.

“The doctor told me I’d done everything correctly and saved him from being crippled. He had broken his back.”

And with less emphasis on health and safety issues, George often found himself getting into scrapes.

One night, on the hunt for burglars, he fell through the roof of a farm. Luckily he got caught in the rafters – if he had gone straight through he would have landed straight on top of one of the most ferocious bulls in the area.

He said: “It is funny looking back on it now, but at the time – well, I had a bull straight underneath me.

“But people rallied round and got me out. On the way to hospital I found myself sharing a car with two other older ladies who had appointments booked. I had my leg up on top of one of them on the way back – it was in a pot. My wife was driving and there was no other way to do it.

“It was like that in those days. Everyone just mucked in and helped each other out. Modern advances in DNA are amazing but I feel strongly that the community side of policing was important and has been lost.

“If there were kids mucking about on mischief day, we knew who they were and who their parents were. Their parents backed us up when we took them home and reinforced what we were doing. That doesn’t happen nowadays.

“I also remember leaving my wife and her friend to watch over some burglars who had been looting various properties in the area. You would never be able to do that these days. The light outside our police house was an important signal to the community to come in and seek help.”

But although George’s memories of village policing suggest a time of less violent crime, there were still a minority of individuals who needed to be kept in check.

He said: “Football matches always brought them out. I remember watching over the crowds at a Leeds match. In those days yobs would hide lead weights in their scarves and razor blades in their hats. We had to be careful.”

Another aspect of the job was attending post mortems.

“We followed cases from start through to finish. You needed a strong stomach to be a police officer.

“I got to know a number of people through my work and I really enjoyed it. Looking back, I was a real part of the community.”

George retired from the force and went to work for a firm in Guiseley before he and Joan returned to his hometown of Ilkley.

He said: “I would like to see some of the old-fashioned policing methods make a come back.

“Looking back, I had some great times – we all did. It was our life, as a family.”