Page 117 - Once a copper 10 03 2020

cordon (where we interlocked arms) to prevent any rioters gaining access to
the plant itself via the road we were told to guard.

We all complained bitterly how exposed we were in the event we were
outnumbered with no equipment to adequately defend ourselves. As we
stood in line across the road, I saw a pyramid of clay pipes for underground
water and power supplies was stacked at the end of the road in front of us.
Like others I’m sure, I feared that if smashed, these pipes would be dangerous
ammunition for any would be rioter to hurl in our direction.

Minutes later a large group appeared from around the corner ahead of us.
Sure enough, they spotted the pipes and as was feared, they started
smashing them to create missiles. We were told to stand our ground and not
let them pass, but my fear was that we would all be casualties which would
make that instruction moot and potentially no longer practically applicable.

Whilst we held the line, we had to duck and dive to avoid the incoming
pieces of now sharp pipes. I was one of the lucky ones, or perhaps my fear
guided my evasive action better than a couple of colleagues who had to be
despatched off to hospital for treatment to their injuries.

Thankfully, before the mob could advance any closer upon us, a couple of
serials of officers with riot shields and protective helmets, accompanied by
officers on horseback appeared which gave us the opportunity to make a
tactful withdrawal. Those moments in line were among the scariest I have
ever experienced and never was I so glad to see the inside of our transit van
and to watch that wretched place become a dot on the horizon as we
drove away from the plant.

Apart from a bit of shouting and jostling at other pits in coming weeks, the
Orgreave events were my only exposure to violence for the rest of the
dispute.
At one pit, some months into the dispute when the anger
had calmed down considerably, we were asked if we
wanted to go down a pit. Not everyone wanted to go,
but I was keen to see the conditions these guys worked
under.

Those of us going down were led to the cage lift that
would take us down into the bowels of the earth. Not
quite the luxurious elevator you might ride at the Ritz or
the Dorchester, but this was no hotel.

Before we would descend hundreds of feet down to the

Figure 49 Ground floor coalface, the mine supervisor fitted each of us with a
perfumery, going down . . Page117