Tuesday 9 August 2011

Frontline Riot



Sat there, and the first thing I noticed was that I am bouncing my legs up and down. I make a conscious effort to think about what I’m doing and I slap my hands on my thighs. My legs stop moving and my hands take over from where my legs left off as I tap down on my thighs with no particular beat. 

“One minute away” is the shout from the Sergeant. 

Its then I remember why I am here and why my legs and arms are drumming this random beat. Nervous energy seeping out of me. My hands are clammy, my mouth dry and then inside my riot helmet I can hear my heartbeat in my ears and the tension in my chest. 

“Form to the left”

The carrier door flies open and I flip down the visor on my helmet, grip my shield tightly and jump out in the sequence we have been drilled many times before. 

My nose is instantly filled with the smell of burning rubber and the noise of shouting and breaking glass and metal landing on concrete is ringing in my ears. 

Instinctively I hold my shield in the “protect position” and move to the building line on my left hand side and form up with my colleagues. I raise my eyebrows to force my eyes to focus and lick my lips to try to generate some saliva in my mouth. As I do, rocks begin to land on and around us....

“Missiles” is the shout from colleagues and we form up accordingly. 

I look into the distance and see the silhouettes of people. The shapes of their body very vivid against the backdrop of bright yellow and orange flames.  I ‘guesstimate’ there to be about 70-80 people, mostly males and the majority small framed and of a youthful build. There is 18 of us at this point. 

One particular lad catches my eye as he runs forward towards us, getting within 15 metres. He collects debris from the floor and begins to throw it in our direction as hard as he possibly can. This boy looks no older than 14/15 years old and the anger and hatred on his face is plain to see. He slows his throwing and comes to a stop as he tires and begins to slowly retreat towards his new found comrades as he shouts all manner of abuse at us. He then stops......and in the middle of all this carnage he starts laughing. I cannot believe it. 

I look at this lad and think of my own family, my own friends and how they would feel in this situation and how has it all gotten to this point. How can this lad be so angry with life, or with Police, that he feels the need to be out of his house at 1am to ‘front up’ up the Police in such a way at such a tender age? 

After several hours basically being pelted with all manner of missiles and petrol bombs the crowds begin to tire and disperse. I look around at the carnage that has been left in their wake. Buildings and cars ablaze, debris all over the floor. Shops ruined and ran-sacked and the boxes and packaging of loot strewn in the road. Wheelie bins blocking road, and some melted in place having been set alight. Boxes of bottle, rocks, scrap metal, and various other items stock piled to be thrown at Police. It was like looking at a war zone on TV and not the street of the City I had grown up in. 

I had gone into work yesterday afternoon and expected to be off duty at 10pm. I finished at 6:30 am and had done two shifts in one having dealt with 999 calls initially and then being deployed to this riot zone latterly. Like nothing I have known in my service. 

Bobbies stood with mouths agape, just in shock of what they had endured and seen.  A few sat with head in hands and other just stood stunned in silence. The odd one sat in the carrier in tears with the adrenaline having worn off and the reality sinking in. It reality is a scene that no news reporter can paint. If you were there – as a Police Officer, or not – then you know what it was like. The rest are simply guessing. 

I clambered into bed, desperate for some sleep but I couldn’t drift off. My body aware that I would be back on duty to do exactly the same thing again within 11 hours. Yet my body would not wind down. 

I wake up to see the TV news broadcasters using every available opportunity to try to lead questions about how the Police failed people, or were nowhere to be seen. In circumstances like this, the countries “decent people” should be uniting to come as one against this, and the media is simply putting more of a divide in the way. Leading questions and blunt negativity to Police responses and actions were more often than not [thankfully] met with voices of support by the people on the receiving end. Decent, fair minded people can see that officers like my colleagues and I were sent to an area, thin in numbers and faced with having to deal with people there. Quite often being outnumbered by 2/1 at the very least, with us working to a strict rule of law under the watchful gaze of the media and mobile phones. Yet with them acting like thugs, and lawless maniacs with no morals or ethics. How can you deal with those people who are always willing to escalate beyond what you can get to? If we arrested 1, they brought in another 10. If we protected cars, they torched buildings. If we tried to protect buildings they wanted to injure officers and the public. The bar was always being raised. 

Let’s be 110% clear here. This is no fault of the Police, they may be culpable in respect to responses and deployment, but with finite resources this was always going to be difficult, given the size and movement of the rioting. The fault lies solely and squarely with the people who are committing these crimes and causing all this misery. 

As I get ready for another night of the same, with my shift varied and my days off cancelled, do not lose hope and faith in us. We want to be doing the things you expect us to do. We need to work together and we need to unite as one against these mindless idiots.  I, along with my colleagues, all have families, we are just normal people. We chose this job and as such we are going out to try and make these streets safer and better for you – but ultimately we are as scared and upset by all of this as you. The uniform doesn’t make us immune from this. 

Thank you for the phenomenal words of support I have received so far. It means a lot.

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