Entering a port in Ireland from a ferry. A line of cars. Our car has Ukrainian license plates, so a man runs up and says that Ukrainians need to stand in a separate line. He speak with me Ukrainian. I don't argue, maybe that's how it should be. He also says he's ready to help us quickly process our documents. I don't know what he wants or can help with, but we can listen. He's trying to find out if we've been to Ireland before, if we have a "yellow page" (this is a residence permit). I'm surprised—why do you need this information?
He asks, "Have you officially registered that you're leaving Ireland?"
Really! And who are you asking for?
It immediately becomes clear who.
We go into a room where an officer, most likely a customs officer, is sitting. And this little man starts telling him that we (are) Ukrainians, and he assumes that we haven't officially registered our exit from Ireland. I don't know how to speak English, but I speak the language.
The officer's answer pleased me: "I don't care, it's not my job!" And they returned my documents.
What an obsequious pose this little man had! I immediately remembered stories about policemen who happily served the Germans.
This one was just like that. I wanted to wash my hands. Later, I learned that no one had officially invited these Ukrainian serfs. They called themselves volunteers and said they would help translate for the Ukrainians.

There were no forced for "gestapo" servants..
A policeman and an informer are always a volunteer!