The other side to Northern Hiker & the Next Job.....

Generally I blog about the hills or something related to the outdoors, but as I woke this morning, after finishing a varied 5pm till 4am shift, I nestled my cup of coffee and sat and switched the TV on. Sky news (as always) was on and I was greeted with the news that four cops in the south had been involved in a serious incident leaving three badly hurt with stab wounds. It made me think that could've been me!
I know a lot of people, especially on social networking sites, who would probably have a small smile on their faces when hearing a cop being hurt and I guess it's their right. But I would like to share a story of a wet foggy night in the summer of 2009, where I would think my colleagues and my efforts didn't go unrecognised and maybe even the more hardened cop haters would appreciate.
Light was fading and my crew mate and I were sat in the canteen bolting food down our necks before our rare break was yet again interrupted by our radio's. It wasn't long before the familiar voice crackled over our pocket sets, "any unit free to attend a RTC on the A19 south bound?"
One last mouth full as we stood up and headed to the patrol vehicle, I wacked the 'blues and twos' on and headed towards the busy 'A' road that is the main artery through the North East. About two minutes later we parked at the bottom of the flyover and headed up the grass embankment to meet what I can only describe as carnage. Hollywood would have had a job recreating the scene which met my mate and me.
Immediately a female came running towards me screaming "my boyfriends stuck, he's stuck in that car". She pointed to a Corsa which had another car on its roof, squashing it flat. I looked up the road and saw my mate running with another male to the rear of the mixture of cars, tankers wagons and buses which were now inside, on top, underneath and squashing each other. I could here vehicles still skidding and colliding into each other in the distant fog further up the flyover.
"Please get my boyfriend out", the girl stood screaming at me as I was still taking in the extent of the damage, and what might lie in the mangled wreckage.
I ran over to the Corsa and thought, "this isn't good", the car was crushed beyond recognition and I was amazed how the girl got out. The drivers side was flat as I jumped over the bonnet and looked into the drivers seat. I saw a male with the top half of his body slumped over the dash board and legs jammed under the steering column which had been squashed, basically in a bad way. The girl looked at me from cross the bonnet with a "is he ok?" look. I thought there is now way he's survived this, I put my hand into the smashed mess and grabbed his right shoulder. "You ok mate?", no response, "mate, you ok?". I gasped when, and I still don't know how, he turned his head which I thought was pinned onto the dash and gave me a 'thumbs up'. I said "yes!!" and told his girlfriend to keep talking to him and I'd send a medic. I looked up the trail of destruction and the only other uniform I saw was my crew mate running from vehicle to vehicle finding people still breathing.
I then heard screaming coming from the wagon which had hit the rear of a car, forcing it onto the roof of another pushing the car through the windscreen of said wagon. I ran passed the cars and the occupants were miraculously only slightly hurt and climbing out of their vehicles. I looked up into the cab and saw a bloke covered in blood screaming, which I was glad about, as everyone knows, it's the quiet ones you worry about. I saw through the blood the cause of all the bleeding, his forehead was sliced open and hanging down over his face. I also saw his shins were now the shape of a 'W' as they were forced under his seat smashing both. I'll tell you something, I was never so pleased to see a fireman. I turned around and saw his blue uniform and said, "I reckon he needs cutting out mate", yep, I'd stated the obvious but I think I was allowed this one occasion. A male then tapped me on the shoulder and said, "can I help mate?", I turned and saw a well built lad with a green T-shirt, with a familiar badge on his chest '23 Para" and the wings, I was pleased he would know what to do as the casualties greatly outweighed the small number of paramedics who were running round like headless chickens.
"Keep him chatting while I get a paramedic" pointing to the wagon driver. Eventually, and it seemed to take an eternity, a full compliment of emergency services were in attendance and I could help the fire lads get the wagon driver out. Boy did that poor bloke scream when we moved him.
I spend the next hour moving wreckage and people from the best part of 35 vehicles involved. I did have to smile when I came across a Mini lodged entirely under a tanker thinking no one could've got out of that alive, only to find the driver sat on the barrier to the side of the road unhurt.
Some people were not so fortunate and it would be unprofessional and heartless to tell the account if full, but as I was reunited with my crew mate, both blood soaked and sweating like we'd just finished a marathon, we did what everyone who is thrown into incidents like this, that is to make light of it and not talk about it.
The incident was taken over by 'specialists' and we had a quick wash and change of clothes and onto the next job.
The 'next job', could be anything, and I mean anything! I've been kicked, punched, bitten, hair pulled, attacked with knife and an axe. I've been pushed downstairs, attacked by dogs, driven at and spat at, twice the offending saliva has landed in my mouth and I've had to spend the next six weeks wondering if I'd caught Hepatitis.
I apologise for the lack of pictures for this blog but as you can probably guess, I didn't have my camera with me.
The incident on the A19 that summer night made me think, I might not have the most popular job in the country & the police service spends a lot of time in the bad press, but it's a thankless job & I enjoy it (most of the time).
Spare a thought the next time you see a patrol car hurtling through the traffic, or when the siren breaks your sleep in the middle of the night. That cop is alone mostly, at the end of his/her journey, there may be an infant death, suicide, a gun, a knife, a broken bottle, twenty people fighting with weapons or a fatal domestic incident. To some people that's a way of life which is only in the papers or on the TV. To the fatigued but adrenaline filled body wearing the uniform sat behind the wheel, it's the 'next job!'