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METTLE MONDAY – WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT IT
Graeme Walker • Jun 20, 2019
Written by Sgt. Harry Tangye
It was quite warm which was always a bonus, one less thing to worry about at 3 o’clock on this very dark and very still morning. The single car involved was completely unrecognizable, it was dry and only a slight breeze caressed the branches of the trees around my head. I had travelled at speed for over an hour to get here. I knew it was too late to save life, but any delay meant a further delay to open the road, but more importantly, I needed to get there to ensure no vital evidence or witnesses were lost. I had learned over the years it was a thin line between patronising skilled and experienced officers by ensuring they had done things correctly, and losing evidence had I assumed something was done when it wasn’t.
When I joined the police back in 1990 as a 21 year old, I have to say I was well out of my depth and I always felt I was the one who managed to fool the interview board into giving me a punt. It had taken 2 goes at the 3 day assessment, and on the second attempt, I almost didn’t get in because my blood pressure was so high. But here I was, standing at the scene of a double fatal road traffic collision, and in charge of the investigation.
I had ensured all witnesses were accounted for, and the next of kin of the crash victims were being contacted by family liaison officers. I’d managed to get an account of the driver of another car who had seen this car careering towards him. “I knew I was in trouble officer” he stammered. Not because he had done anything wrong, but because a huge angry metal monster was charging down on him, spitting fire and metal shards, smashing into trees, a spinning whirl wind with debris shooting out like fireworks. The car took one hesitant pause as it balanced precariously on its rear end, before slowly tumbling over like a felled tree onto what was left of its wheels. The witness had seen all this happen in front of him, gazing at the car. It panted steam from its mouth, breathed its last and then, silence.
It was dark, very dark in this country road, a main route between two large towns, but it was quiet for now. The witness had gingerly got out of his car, and hesitantly made his way towards the mangled wreckage. He used the lights of his car to light the wreckage, but he found he was causing a shadow across the scene blocking his view, so slowly approached it from the verge with his phone in hand and with the torch app switched on. He hesitantly gazed into the car, every panel smashed to pieces or crushed to an unrecognizable form. His eyes followed the light into the depths of the car and he saw the twisted bodies inside. Two of them, a youngish male and female. There was no obvious car door to open, it was as if it were welded to the shape of the crushed bodywork of the car, no hinges would help him here. He listened, then whispered through the dimly lit gloom.
“Hello?”
He pressed number nine, three times on his phone realising his finger was shaking uncontrollably. He was surprised at the lively reply on the phone, “Which Service please?”
His voice shaking, “Ambulance, Fire… Police, just get everyone here please”.
He crumpled as one of the ghostly faces entered his mind. His first flash back, it was just the three of them, he burst into tears. The first police officers arrived soon after although it seemed an age. He calmed the man with soft tones. It’s often difficult to establish what could have gone on to cause such a collision at this early stage. The fire service did an amazing job by freeing one of the bodies, but then held off as I needed to keep the car intact for the vehicle examiner to examine the car. The male remained contorted inside. It’s no good cutting the car to pieces to free the bodies only to find the car falls apart on lifting it onto the back of a recovery truck. That would potentially destroy the steering rack, the brake lines and other potential vital clues that would tell us the cause of the loss of control. It will inevitably be too much speed but we can’t ever take that for granted. So the last body stays in the car for the next few hours until the scene examination is done. An officer has already ensured some dignity for the occupants by covering them as much as he can with blankets. It’s some time before I can give the go ahead for the Fire Service to come back and cut the final one out. It seems harsh, but it’s important. The cause for this was going too fast for the circumstances, and simply losing control, getting caught up in the moment, which left two families utterly devastated for the rest of their lives.
I have numerous similar scenes to talk about over the near 30 years I have worked in my role. Most of my career has been with the Armed Response Unit which is dual rolled with the Traffic Unit in Devon and Cornwall. I’m qualified to advise Firearms commanders on tactics and to lead firearms teams and to carry out vehicle interceptions with my Armed Response Unit and I was a Senior Investigation Officer for Fatal and Serious collisions for 15 years. I have attended over 150 fatal road traffic collisions over those years, and with many ghostly faces entering my mind when I think back. I am fortunate however, that I have a very close band of brothers and sisters I work with and even though that family have changed over the years, a cop is a cop is a cop, and they have saved my sanity through the very open discussions we share; sharing those experiences that so few others have. I am so far able to place each horror scene in a box, and pack it away at the back of my mind, until they decide to open on their own accord, but until then I should be okay.
The work I do, I enjoy incredibly. The police are being painfully pulled apart into an unrecognizable body by the government who have no idea what the police actually do anymore. I no longer feel the same community in the police I once had as the government has shown such contempt for police officers for far too long now. I see the new officers coming through and I worry for them, and the public they will serve. Policing used to be a community, we did what we could to make it work and to an extent people still do, but if you’ve been devalued for so long, made to feel like a number not worth a decent wage, then officers start to believe they are worthless. When they get assaulted and their assailant is free to goad them and their bruised face the following night, then what hope is there for discipline and authority? Officers will come to work, do the work and go home again. It never used to be like that. The social life has gone. The bars and even the canteens are closed, so there is nowhere to defuse anymore apart from around a briefing table with your close colleagues. Even the WhatsApp rooms are not trusted by officers, as it only takes one to take offence at some foolhardiness and then many are investigated for not turning on their colleague. It’s sad, but it slowly is becoming just a job, no longer a vocation. The government has won.
So it may surprise you that through all that I do still get immense satisfaction coming to work, but it will be my time to go in just under two years. I get satisfaction from attending a minor RTC and comforting the driver who is terrified and upset, feeling as though their world has fallen apart. I like catching the bully who has terrifying his girlfriend by leaning over her petrified shaking body with a shotgun, telling her he’s going to shoot her and then pulling the trigger with just a click, and a laugh. To arrest this man under gun point is, I confess satisfying with the shoe being on the other foot. I also get satisfaction from running a happy and professional Section of officers, to offer support when they need it and to laugh a lot with them. It’s your colleagues you work so hard for now, it’s the law abiding public you want to help, the bigger picture of representing the police force is now being forgotten as its soul is so nearly lost in the UK.
I think back at that 21 year old. I think of the growing up he will do, learning to put a decent court file together, how to search a person properly, a car and a house. I think of the tears he will shed when he fails a course he wanted more than life itself but then I remember the tears of joy when he passed it a few months later. I think about the times he will give comfort to an elderly man who was scared in his own house, and the smiles when he left them with some confidence for the future again. I think of the kids who had run away from children’s homes, and the ‘You’re not like the rest’ comments from more than a few. I think of the relatives he will give closure to when they have lost loved ones.
I think of those he arrested at gun point, the tormented he talked away from the edge, and the few he will fail to, but over all I think, that lad did okay I guess.
Sgt. Harry Tangye is a Devon & Cornwall ARV Ops Firearms Commander, Tactics Advisor (Firearms & Pursuit) VIP Protection officer with over 29 years of dedicated service – Please check out his YouTube Video “Learn 2 Live” which lends itself to the post above – Video May Cause Some Upset
Most girls dream of their big day, meeting the love of their life and having the most beautiful wedding. They have a dream dress in mind sometimes well before even knowing the person they might marry. But for me it was different, I never dreamt of that day. In fact I had a perspective that was quite the opposite.
When Brin and I brought our first house, we were beyond excited to finally have our own space. We moved in together in June 2015 and couldn't wait to start our next chapter. A few days before Christmas 2015, we were both going on our annual works night out, I dropped him off at the pub, he told me he loved me and that was to be the last time I saw him.
Written by Wendy Searle When I reached the South Pole in 2020, I was exhausted, elated and not a little relieved. I had just completed a 42-day solo, unsupported expedition; over 700 miles of vast, white nothingness. Those feelings persisted throughout the flight back from Pole (which took only 4 hours, to do what had taken me five weeks), throughout the return to the UK via South America. I had already been delayed at the start, thanks to bad weather, so I returned to work after a long weekend at home. My colleagues seemed genuinely glad to see me back, and were interested in my journey. For the first week or so, I couldn’t sleep, despite being achingly tired. (I also couldn’t stop eating, after losing 10 kilos in just over a month, so much so that I once had to stop for supplies during a 15-minute walk.) I was high as a kite, and still so wired after the continual focus of expedition life. It’s akin to climbing, or skydiving, where your whole focus is in the moment. Was I too cold? That could be fatal. Was I too hot? A surprising risk in polar latitudes, as if you sweat it will freeze. Was my kit OK? How long to the next break? And on and on, for what felt like forever when I was actually out on the ice. It’s that element of total immersion, of being so far removed from the everyday – emails, traffic, work; that is at once so daunting and so addictive. After the initial high dropped to merely walking around being more back there than present here, I started to think about going back to training. For what though? I had nothing to train for, and very little in reserve. I took to tyre hauling, which is what I spent so much of my time doing in the run up to the expedition – the traditional method of building leg strength and endurance for pulling a sled (or pulk) for 11-12 hours a day. As soon as I strapped on my pulk harness, I could transport myself back to Antarctica. And that helped, because I was struggling to readjust to life after expedition. It wasn’t just those weeks alone on skis that I missed. I’d been planning, training and fundraising for what amounted to just over 1,000 hours, for five years. I’d met a team of soldiers who were traversing Antarctica, and I became more and more drawn to this extraordinary continent. I read some polar history, some accounts of the first Polar expeditions, when they were true explorers. Despite not having any kind of adventure experience to speak of, I was hooked. I dedicated my life to making the expedition happen. Everything was in pursuit of the Pole. If I read a book, it was about Antarctica, if I had free time, it was spent attending events where potential sponsors might be found. I spoke to everyone who had ever been to the South Pole that I could. After working out what training and experience would be required, I set about ticking it off; Norway training, a spectacular crossing of the Greenland ice sheet, time alone in Iceland. The training was, if not at the level of an Olympic athlete, was certainly dedicated. Twice a day, for six days a week, I hauled tyres, ran up hills, lay in rivers and ice baths, and put up my tent in my house, over and over so I’d have the muscle memory ingrained when I was tired at the end of a long day skiing. Once I was back, I decided the only cure for the huge gap in my life that all those things had left, was another expedition. I don’t think I’m unique in that regard, but I actually missed the build-up, the nurturing of this idea, which became the expedition, which eventually took on a life of its own. I missed the slightly-sick feeling in my stomach when I thought about actually having to go ahead with what I set out to do, the uncertainty of my ability to complete the journey. When COVID stopped all travel outside the UK, my plans took a hit. The world became smaller overnight – so small it really only included Wiltshire, where I live. I’d gone from an all-or-nothing challenge to, well, nothing. Ideas, plans, even talks with sponsors, were pushed into the long grass. Ironically, after finding the South Pole on my own, I felt a bit lost. But gradually I began to see that the adventure can lie in the everyday. I had to if I wasn’t going to lose my mind. I bought a mountain bike for the first time, and began to explore the local off-road routes and tiny jumps. I wrote a book proposal about my journey. In the end, I think that period of quiet gave me to time to reflect on the enormity of what I’d done – being only the seventh woman in history to complete the journey solo, unsupported, from Hercules Inlet to the geographic South Pole. Instead of jumping into another trip, I allowed that to sink in, for it to become part of who I was. And now I’m ready for the next adventure.
A few hours later, I’d be called back to the hospital under the pretense my consultant had a cancellation. He sat me down and told me that I had a brain tumour. It was an acoustic neuroma (sometimes known as a vestibular schwannoma), a low grade, but in my case, uncharacteristically fast-growing, cystic tumour that was growing on the hearing and balance nerves within the confined space of my skull. This explained many of the symptoms I’d been experiencing recently, but not all.
I lost all of my hair at age 2, due to the autoimmune condition, Alopecia. It was extremely hard to navigate not knowing anyone else with my condition. I felt very alone and isolated. I began to wear a wig since I can remember to fit in with everyone else. I never truly felt like “me” but I didn’t know how to be ok with my Alopecia and the emotional roller coaster that was being bald. Kids were extremely mean to me and bullied me a lot for my wig and lack of eyebrows and eyelashes.
I don’t recall much about the call. It was a dead guy, or girl. I helped the coroner collect the body and went outside. It was night-time and the lights from our overheads were swirling in the darkness. I began speaking with another deputy, and suddenly became aware that I was seeing his face as he would look if he were dead. It wasn’t a conscious decision, it just happened. It wasn’t as shocking as one might think. I blinked and even laughed to myself about it, but I couldn’t shake myself free from what I was seeing. It should have been a sign; I should have questioned what I was seeing, but I didn’t. My mind had begun to operate on its own. I should have questioned what was happening, but I didn’t. I told myself it must be a natural repercussion of seeing so many dead people. But it didn’t stop.
Written by Rachel wild I am a survivor of sexual abuse by my own father. Still feels like a taboo subject even currently. Therefore, it is so important for me to speak out. bravely... loudly... so everyone can hear. It was not my fault, sexual abuse is never the victim’s fault, but they carry it like it is.... they carry the shame and the guilt and the anger. The man who was meant to protect me from all evil in the world was the person who damaged me the most. Both parents were abusive physically and mentally, which I still struggle to understand as to how you can hurt your own child. I have been on an incredible journey and life has been made much harder because of this, however it has made me fight hard to do the right thing, it has made me resilient, it is developed my kindness and compassion. It also affects your ability to trust, I have nightmares, I have hyper independence as I have always had to do everything on my own. I went into care at 15, I got my own flat and three jobs at 16 and took myself to night college and studied to become a beauty therapist and Dental Nurse. I have always had a defiance, a drive, a determination to not let what has happened ruin me or use it as an excuse to behave poorly. I strive to do well in life, I have had so much stolen from me, I have a lot of life to live and make up for. I have slowly over the last two years started to process what has happened, I have felt incredible hot white rage, depression, panic, such sadness I have not wanted to go out, grief and loss of my childhood and all the things they stole from me. But I have grown as a person. I do not carry this secret alone, I feel empowered, calmer, more peaceful. It has given me kindness and compassion for myself. I want to help other survivors of sexual abuse, I want them to know life can be good, you can move forward you can heal. For me what has helped me heal, has been unburdening myself and sharing, reporting to the police, friends, support from counselling and specialist services, running, nature, mindfulness, meditation, and yoga and cheese and chocolate! Walking into the police station to report this was one of the most terrifying things I have ever done. What happens if they do not believe me? what happens if he comes and gets me and attacks me? what happens if other people attack me? I had the most incredible Detective, who listened whilst I told her some of the most intimate details of the abuse, feeling so ashamed. Not once did I feel judged, I felt listened to and cared for... and eventually so empowered. Not straight away, I felt exhausted after reporting, scared... I could see him everywhere. I had panic attacks, nightmares, I could not sleep... this lasted for about 12 months, and then eased slightly. It is normal to feel how you feel, it is important to acknowledge it and access help, the Independent Sexual Violence Advisor at the RASASC (Rape and sexual Assault Unit) probably saved my life, as did the support from my friends. If someone discloses abuse to you, be aware of the strength and vulnerability that it takes, you might be the first person they ever tell. It is so important to listen... just listen... please do not judge, please do not tell them how they should or should not feel. Just listen to them and do not interrupt, depending on the situation later ask them if they have ever spoken to anyone.... and would they like to talk to someone who deals with abuse/rape/assault like the RASASC unit. Just telling one person can start a domino effect on the path of healing. You do not have to report to the police, ringing an anonymous line, telling a friend, a counsellor, journaling can all start the process to you feeling lighter and getting on the road to peace and contentment. I reported sexual abuse by my father in 2018, he was being charged on the 15th of September and did not turn up to court. A warrant was issued for his arrest, he was found dead at home. Ten days earlier my Grandad died, he was my only family member so the past few years have been incredibly difficult. The last few months were so difficult, but also because my father is dead for the first time in my life, I feel safe. This will never go away for me, it will always have happened, so it is a life-long journey, it is part of who I am. Please do not tell survivors to put it behind them, forget about it, or move on, it is not that simple. Trauma is complex, I still have nightmares, I still think I see him, I still feel unsafe if out running and there is a man that looks like him. Even though my brain knows I am safe, my survival brain is trying to keep me safe. I have always been a very private person and kept things to myself. One of the things I have found most beneficial and helpful is talking to other survivors. I have always felt very alone and felt no-one understands (and I do not want anyone to have to experience this), especially with it being my own Father. The feelings I have had, and the experiences resonate with others and it has made me feel more understood, more normal almost. No two experiences are the same even if the circumstances are similar due to a multitude of factors, but there are some common denominators which have brought me comfort. The compassion, awe, and kindness I feel for other survivors, is something I have been able to start to apply to myself, which has been difficult. As a coping mechanism I downplayed, minimized, compared my situation, it is a survival technique that trauma victims use. This meant if I made it small it was not that bad, so therefore I did not have to deal with it. I am thankful for our incredible brains; I think it is fascinating how our brain protects us until we are ready to deal with a situation. Due to the abuse, I am a huge advocate of speaking out about abuse and rape and helping individuals to become empowered and hand the shame back to the abusers. I want to raise awareness so more people can speak out Bravely and be heard and supported and access the right help. I am working with RASASC (rape and sexual abuse Centre) this year to help provide training for the police and other agencies in how to help survivors. I am also going to train as an Independent Sexual Violence advisor, because how you are treated and supported is essential for the healing process. I also want to show people that with the right tools and support they can cope, they can have an amazing life....and that life can be great.
My sense of adventure and my love of sports started from a very early age. I grew up in a military family which meant we travelled the world as my Dad was posted from one country to another. I went to more than 15 different schools and lost count of the number of houses we lived in. For many children this is extremely daunting, but for some reason I loved it, I was always on an adventure.
I wrote this letter to articulate how the experience of post-traumatic growth has affected my life and through my own lived-experience, how my friend Pain was difficult to live with for many years. It also highlights how, pain must be present in our lives to experience the beautiful, the pure and the good. Life is a short and yet bittersweet journey, that to appreciate fully will require finding your strength that is forged from within.
It's something that I thought would never happen within my lifetime, I don’t think anyone would have thought the same. For one moment within that initial chaos, it became real that we were to put our lives on hold. Not just that, the whole of life was put on hold for everyone. So all these months later, what have we learned?......or have we? When it was first said it was only going to be 3 weeks in length but those few weeks turned into many months. For most people, everything within their life had to change. They then had to find a way to get through each day. But something I’ve realised that maybe many haven’t was in fact that, 2020 has been the biggest wake up call for humanity. So why would it be the biggest wake up call at all? What I’ve seen was how people had to adapt to this ‘New Normal’ but not just that, they had to find a way to live. I took every opportunity to build and learn. I wrote a book, started a podcast, built a business and expanded my network. But through this time, once again I often questioned a lot of what was happening. We saw a rise in celebrities carrying out morning workouts, focusing on using physical fitness to help us all put us in a positive mental headspace. For once, it seemed that all the things I had been using to help manage my mental health for years was being used to show people how effective it was. Same as going outdoors, exploring the mountains and hills, just to take time out in nature. So did it take a worldwide pandemic for people to actually get up and become active? It seems not just the power of exercise but also we saw, the canals of Venice crystal clear and the smog lifted from the Himalayas to finally see Everest. For once we could see the destruction we’ve done to this earth. But will it last? Absolutely not, it’s not that I’m pessimistic, definitely not. But I don’t have the greatest of faith in humanity at the best of times. Even though, I’ve consistently used my social media to promote positive mental health and for people to think for themselves so they can better themselves. A large majority of people will continue to carry on their usual routines ignorant of the destruction that we’re doing to this planet. Just think of that one piece of rubbish that was lingering in your hand, how powerful that is. Why you may ask, think of that one piece of rubbish, we’ve now got a choice. We can put it in our pocket and put it in a bin and let it be collected to be put in a landfill site to be covered with other millions of pieces of rubbish, slowly decomposing but working its way down to the water table. Or we can drop it with all the rest of the rubbish that another person has dropped, for it to collect and suffocate the seas, pollute the earth, choke innocent animals in their natural surroundings. The choice is yours, but one thing we need to do as a society is have a global rethink on how we protect this planet. Years ago, I came up with a recycling project that was cost effective and which would put an end to landfill sites. I was rejected by Councils and local authorities. It was simple in its approach, filling sealed Olympic sized swimming pool vats with rubbish using chemicals to break down the everyday household rubbish but leaving the materials that could be recycled. But not just that, at every level of the operation, there would be a filtration unit that would clear the rubbish in the chemicals, scrubbed and reused. The factory could be powered by green energy, reducing the carbon footprint. We are slowly choking and suffocating the earth and oceans with all the rubbish from products we consume. It’s a simple choice really, we concentrate on developing ourselves in subjects that are either intrinsically or extrinsically motivating depending on your needs Vs wants but we don’t spend enough time concentrating on how we can all improve the world around us. So whilst we’ve seen that level of self development rise and a large number of people have been intrinsically motivated to create and build a positive lifestyle, there are many that have jumped on the bandwagon and to join in this movement to escape the lockdown blues. So whilst we saw a large number of people out running, cycling, walking in the hills, using this excuse of “Because Boris said we can” what happened when the lockdown was lifted? Did they do it because it was a way to show some kind of compliance or rebellion? How many people actually changed their lifestyles or carried on post lockdown. Did they look at what they needed to become better instead of carrying on being full time members of the Netflix and Dominos club? So if Sir David Attenborough joining Instagram wasn’t enough to show the world that it needs change, that we as a population needs to open our eyes and see the destruction that we’re doing to our planet. Then I don’t know what will make people change. We as a population need to take our level of self accountability to a whole new level. 2020 has been an interesting year, one I hope we all learn from because if we don’t, then it’s only going to get more difficult. Now if I can create a business, write another book, start a podcast to get people talking more, having those important conversations and network on a higher level, then I can’t see why others can’t too. Globally, we’ve got the power to interact and connect to anyone at anytime. So let’s make a positive change, together we can make a change but let’s not carry on being politicians pawns on their global chessboard. If one person can create one positive action, just think of the possibilities of what millions can do?