"There'd been a fire alarm at Hotel Ashburton and my colleague had gone to check it out," he said. "I was alone and on the phone when a young man walked through the door."
That young man, 17-year-old Michael Ewan McKenzie, was cradling a shotgun when Constable Nolan finished the call and went to see what he wanted.
"I thought he might be surrendering his firearm when I approached the counter," Nolan said. "Instead he suddenly pointed it at me and pulled the trigger.
"The blast was fierce and I felt incredible pain in my chest. It knocked me backwards.
"His was a spontaneously stupid decision and he fled afterwards."
Nolan remembers yelling the F-word and then scrambling for the police radio. He called for help from Christchurch, but doesn't think they understood his cry for help.
Bleeding from the pellet wounds and in shock, he then called for an ambulance.
Someone at the Post Office realised his call was genuine and rang on his behalf.
"I remember crashing to the floor, somehow pushing the button at Sergeant Jack Wheeler's house next door," he said.
Jack's wife and son, who was a first aider, ran to Vince's rescue and found him lying on the floor. They put Vince on his side and tried to stem the flow of blood. Within 10 minutes of the shotgun blast, he heard a siren and slightly relaxed.
"I knew help was on its way. I was taken to Ashburton Hospital," he said.
Fortunately for Nolan the hospital, in those days, carried out surgical procedures and, even more fortuitous, the surgeon was familiar with bullet and shotgun wounds.
He'd served as an army surgeon during World War II and knew what to do. He'd treated soldiers on the battlefield.
By then Nolan was under anaesthetic while the surgeon "ripped him open" and removed pellets from his chest, under his arm, spleen and lower back. Even today he has 180 pellet fragments lodged in his back.
"He then stitched me up but told me, when I woke, I had 24 hours to live.
"I was determined to prove him wrong. I was very sore in my chest and wondered where I was but somehow I survived and can look back on it now and be able to express how I feel for the first time," he said.
But that wasn't the end of his surgery.
While he slowly recovered, he didn't feel well and, within a couple of months, he was back in theatre.
"They found the shotgun wad (a component of a shotgun cartridge) rammed into my remaining ribs. They pulled the plastic out and I started to feel 100 per cent better," he said.
Constable Nolan was discharged from Ashburton Hospital after six weeks and transferred to Christchurch.
Because of his injuries, he was assigned to an office job and stayed there for a further 16 years before working as a bailiff for the Justice Department and then was an emergency helper at Lyttelton Road Tunnel.
"I could never handle a full-time job again."
His injuries also prevented him from being the robust dad he wanted to be with his three children.
"I couldn't do the rough and tumble and had to be very cautious when I was out and about," he said.
"But I was determined to stay fit and did a lot of running around Hagley Park."
Even today he's still in discomfort in his chest. When it happens he stops, relaxes and then he can carry on.
At 77, Vince Nolan divides his time between Australia and Christchurch.
His wife died a few years ago and he's currently on the Gold Coast helping to care for his daughter Sandra, 53, who's suffering from a brain tumour.
Nolan will stay with her in her remaining months before returning home to Christchurch.
The 50th anniversary of the attempted killing has finally allowed him to talk and think about it.
As the years have passed he's more at peace about that night back in Ashburton 50 years ago.
"The anniversary last Thursday was a special day as I gathered my thoughts. The All Black victory at night helped a lot," he said.
But there's been one healing moment that's come out of the tragedy.
Years later he met the teenager who told his mates at the Rakaia pub he "wanted to shoot a cop".
McKenzie had been convicted, sentenced and spent three-and-a-half years in prison.
"I wanted us to get together and have a yarn,'' Nolan said.
The Ashburton Guardian also wanted to chat to McKenzie, to give him the opportunity to talk about the shooting. But we, the Guardian, were unable to track him down half a century since that fateful night.
Nolan, though, had more luck years earlier.
"We did (have a chat) via Father Gerry O'Connor, the police chaplain,'' Nolan said.
"McKenzie apologised and regretted what he did and I forgave him.
Nolan said talking to the shooter made him "feel better''.
"If I hadn't done it, I'd be more of a wreck.
"We had a chinwag and the meeting did a world of good."
- Ashburton Guardian
