Page 142 - Once a copper 10 03 2020

The gate was properly secured, and we regrouped with our serial on one of
the car parks. Everyone we spoke to, had a similar story to tell of violent
battles and essential force needed to contain them.

By a cruel twist of irony, our serial was posted inside the Tilton Road end of the
stand, the very end where we had fought to preserve the gates. Our serial,
an inspector, a Sergeant and ten PC’s were told to monitor crowd behaviour
where a large portion of the Leeds fans were penned in. With what we
thought was safety in a group, we assembled at the back of the stand,
ground-side of the blue gates we had been defending.

We could see two large pens sweeping downward towards the pitch, both of
which were filled over capacity with Leeds United visitors. I call them that
because en masse, we couldn’t tell genuine supporters, who came to watch
the game from those who were hell bent on trouble.

The serial Inspector, a few months from retirement took the decision that we
would position ourselves spaced out at intervals down the aisle between the
two pens. To me this seemed like a ludicrous decision. On both sides of the
aisle were the same supporters. I couldn’t see any value in standing between
two factions supporting the same team, it was hardly likely they would fight
each other and if they did, let them get on with it I felt. I looked at the
Sergeant and his expression told me he agreed with me, but the Inspector
insisted we were there to prevent disorder and he marched us down the
middle of the two sections.

Whilst we had been on crowd control duty before entering the ground, the
game had kicked off and there had been continuous episodes of violence
between the fans, with a pitch invasion at half-time that came from the
Railway End. In the light of what was to follow this was minor outbreak that
was quelled with forceful police action. Leeds fans in their own excursions
onto the pitch had smashed up wooden advertising hoardings, gathering
ammunition that would be used later in the troubles. Half-time was extended
while the scant police resources restored order.

Immediately, we started descending the steps down the aisle toward the
pitch, we knew it was a gaffe of the greatest order. Spitting of the foulest sort
at us began, with uncontrolled swearing and threats aimed right in our faces
as we passed. Stay calm I told myself, but inside, I’ll freely admit I was ‘shitting
bricks’ as the popular Brummie expression goes. We had only our helmets
and tunics, no protective gear and I knew we all felt exposed.

As the Inspector led the serial, an arm reached across from the pen and
knocked his cap from his head, giving his head a smack in the process. I saw
the Sergeant lean over the fence of the pen to remonstrate with the Page142
assailant. As he did so, I saw a glint of something like a blade slash across the
Sergeants chin, drawing blood. As I was immediately behind the Sergeant,