The tower block loomed in front of me, like a gigantic mountain sized monolith.  Due to a power cut, not a single light was on throughout the building.  This just added to its dark and evil mystique.  My eyes slowly moved up the floors searching for its peak.  But against the dark London back drop, the building seemed to blend as one with the night sky.

Somewhere up on the 19th floor, someone had turned their ankle and was in “so much pain, they could not walk”.  So, standing with my paramedic bag on my back and all the other essentials I always took into jobs, I prepared to enter the building.

“You going up there mate?”  A young resident was leaving the building and had clocked me with all my kit.  He was motioning up the building.
“Yep.  Are the lifts working?”
“Ha!  No chance mate.  Nothing is.  It’s all fucked yeh”

I looked up once again and did a quick calculation in my head.  Within seconds I was sat back in the car calling up control.  Sod that, walking up 19 floors with all that kit!

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We have a coded phrase in the LAS, that when spoken on priority or on open mic, will alert whoever is listening that urgent police are required and needed on the hurry up!  It’s used so that attackers don’t obviously know you are calling for help.  Unfortunately, not everyone in the LAS knows about this.
Just so there is continued secrecy to that phrase I have used the phrase, VECTOR VECTOR instead . . . as it’s equally as stupid as the real one.

As the woman sat on the floor screaming, the two men set about beating her again.  This time, I acted instinctively – I’d had enough.  And, rushing forward I placed myself between the screaming woman and the two men.

“Get back!”  I pushed them back a step or two and pressed priority on my radio – nothing.

The two men charged at the same time, one brandishing a walking crutch above his head as if to strike.  This time, with instinct, I open-hand pushed both men away in their faces, pushing one to the floor.

“Get BACK!!!” I shouted and again pressed priority on my radio – nothing again!

I was now consciously aware of the ludicrousness of the situation.  Here I was, maintaining a heroic side ward stance, one hand outstretched to the two men stood, poised ready to pounce either side of me.  Whilst my other hand was outstretched to the woman sat cowering behind me on the floor.  Some might of suggested this was the epitome of chivalry and heroism, like a Mexican standoff . . . but really, this was nothing more than a ridiculous end to a pathetic situation which I really wish I’d never been sent to in the first place!

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Over the police radio we could hear carnage and mayhem.  Someone, somewhere, was being stabbed.  Multiple times.  And it was happening right now.

Over the top of police shouting for urgent assistance, were the screams of anguish, pain and despair.

As I buckled up, I nodded at Terry*, who was in the driver’s seat, “Right!  Terry, ready?  Let’s go!”.

Terry was brand new to our Unit and tonight was his first ever JRU shift.  Terry nodded back and started the engine! . . .

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