It could have been a Friday night in Bermuda 25 years ago.

The nightclubs on both sides of Hamilton were buzzing with the activity of regulars, weekend revellers, and others who were simply looking to unwind after a hard week of work.

The women, most dressed in platform shoes and mini skirts, and the guys in high-top sneakers and wearing chains, paraded along Court and Front streets as they made their way to their favourite night spots.

But looking a little closer, it was clear to see this was not the 1970s.

Many businesses had barricaded their windows, youths -- some as young as 12 -- roamed the streets, and some who belong to a specific "crew'' or "gang'' dare not venture into forbidden turf.

"It's a whole different world out there,'' says a senior CID officer on City duty for the next 12 hours.

"Policing is the same. But the people we are policing are different.'' Having children as young as 10-years-old calling them by derogatory names and younger ones acting as "lookouts'' for drug dealers, it would come as no surprise if Police felt they were fighting a losing battle.

But Det. Con. Cal Smith and some 25 officers -- with one year to 14 years of service -- who make up the Task Force go out night after night in hope of tearing down the barriers between Police and the public and in the process saving at least one young person from the streets and ultimately prison or death.

First stop for the night was Curving Avenue in Pembroke where a group of young men are gathered on the roadside, openly drinking beer and sharing laughs.

Initially they greet Det. Con. Smith warmly and ask what brings him by that night.

But they soon clam up when they learn he is accompanied by a reporter from The Royal Gazette who wants to find out whether reports of gangs and guns have any validity.

Then one self-appointed spokesman breaks the silence.

"We're not gangs,'' he said, taking offence. "We're just hanging out, shooting the breeze. You need to go up to White Wall. Those are the younger guys who get into all that kind of stuff.'' He is interrupted by another young man who blames the media, the Police, and Government for the "seemingly'' increase in violence.

"They say they are giving us something, but it is nothing,'' he says referring to Government.

"The worst thing they did was when they closed Robert Crawford. I was a smart guy and I can't go to college. Then you've got nothing left and you have to hustle. I can't even get a job.'' "They're talking about gangs, yet they're putting all the children up there together,'' chimed in another young men, referring to CedarBridge Academy.

He claimed that violence was escalating due to the mixing of young people from various parts of the Island.

"You've got guys from Somerset and guys from town. They are young and hot-headed and listen to nobody. That's what all this fighting is about.'' Asked whether they try to talk to the youngsters to steer them in the right direction, he said: "They don't listen to us, just like the man and the Government don't listen.'' During the conversation, at least half a dozen people in cars, taxis and on bikes stop by, but are waved on by the leading spokesman who simply told them "Not now, catch me later''.

Some 20 minutes later Task Force officers in black paddy wagons drive up and begin searching the group.

"See this is what we have to go through,'' says the leading spokesman. "A lot of the time the trouble is brought on by the cops.'' From Curving Avenue, through the White Wall area of St. Augustine Road where there's no one in sight, it's on to Court Street.

It's fairly quiet for a Friday night, but it is still early -- around 10 p.m.

Several people are hanging out along the street, including a 17-year-old who leans against a fence near a parking lot and dreamily watches the scene around him.

"Got a dollar?'' he asks Det. Con. Smith.

"Aren't you working?'' the officer replies.

"Nah, I'm still doing community service,'' the youngster says, "and I hate it, working for someone and not getting paid.'' When he is told that the whole idea of community service is to punish him, but could lead to a job for him, the youngster dismissively shrugs he shoulder and puffs on a cigarette.

A little further along the street is a big, but soft spoken guy who is the right-hand man to a notorious "gang'' leader in the area.

He repeats what many of those at Curving Avenue had to say.

Most of the fighting and other violence was caused by youngsters who did not listen to anyone, he claimed.

"But they know not to come around here and act up,'' he stresses.

A former Devon Lane student admittingly with no particular skills, the father of four he says: "I get by. I work in that store over there,'' he says pointing to a nearby clothing store.

"My daddy never gave me nothing. My mother worked three jobs.'' However, he admits that he likes "nice'' things, including BMW cars.

And he vows that his youngest son will receive a good education and have whatever he desires.

But he is evasive when asked how will he be able to do that.

He is, however, more forthcoming with information about gang activity.

"It's not as bad as everyone is saying,'' he claims. "There are certain areas where you can't go, depending on who you are. But I go up to Somerset and I have no trouble.'' He explains that the corner of Dundonald and Court streets to the bottom of Till's Hill (where it meets Parson's Road) is known as Front Line, the Southampton Rangers area is known as Southside, and Ord Road -- from around Paget Primary to Lines Grocery is the Backbush.

"Most of that stuff (violence) is the younger guys,'' he adds. "They get carried away.'' But not all of the problems could be blamed on the youth, says a 17-year-old father who is trying to get his life back in order.

"We get blamed for a lot of things that happen, but what about the adults?'' he says.

Trying to make it on his own after his mother remarried and chose her new husband over him, the youngster -- who slept in cars -- says: "My mother doesn't even speak to me when she passes me on the street. But that's okay.

I'm not going to let that hold me back. I'm getting my life together. I no longer smoke. I do weight training and right now I may get a job.

"When I do I will have my own place and my baby will have everything.'' "I hope he makes it,'' Det. Con. Smith says as he drives away. "Sometimes they only need someone to listen to them and show they care.'' Others, he admits, need firm discipline from a man.

"Sometimes we're the only reliable male figures in their lives. I believe we make a difference.''