Becoming the real police.

It's amazing what goes through a copper's mind in the middle of a knock down drag out tooth and nail attempt to put handcuffs on somebody who just doesn't want to go quietly.

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Standing at a window entangled with a police fighter and his partner the thought comes "If I shove him through this window will he hold on to us so we all go down two floors? Why is our police car the only one on the street? Did the call for help go out?"

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As if reading his mind the partner says, " I called ."

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There is a lull in the fight. The bad guy, the officers, and even the victim (who decided she didn't want her man arrested after all) are exhausted. The officer's are able to grab a breath but so does the offender. The battle resumes. The woman jumps on an officer's back clawing at his eyes. The copper twists and throws her across the room. He turns back and sees the bad guy is about to bite his partner in the groin. He reaches in grabbing the mans face and feels a crunching pain as his fingers become the target of the bite. The two officers throw punches, knees, and elbows trying to get cuffs on the tremendously strong man they are trying to arrest. Hell, at this point they are just trying to survive.

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Like music from heaven, sirens can be heard in the distance. The struggle continues. A short time later the door flies open, a mass of blue uniforms rush in. It's a most beautiful thing. Now the odds are in the police officers' favor, fifteen to two, the way it should be. Peace through superior firepower!

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The bleeding exhausted men watch as the offender is buried under a flurry of punches and kicks as the situation is brought back under control. Now they only have to go home and explain to their families how they got the bleeding hickeys, the stitched up fingers, and the stripes across the face and eyes.

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Often a situation rapidly escalated to where force became necessary. Pepper spray? Tasers? They didn't exist up until a few years ago. It was all manual combat. Coppers died in the double digits every year until the bullet proof vests began to be issued in the mid eighties. A tee shirt with an "S" emblazoned on it didn't do the trick.

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An amazing thing happened when the partners returned to work after a brief recovery period. Prior to this incident, they were two FNG's (effen new guys). It was "hey kid, I'm driving you do the paper." and "hey kid I'll be right back wait in the car." Suddenly every one knew their first names. They got invited to coffee. They were accepted. Real coppers aren't afraid. They had stood and fought and had been bloodied. They were now the real police.