Police and civilian receive bravery awards for their - New Zealand ...

PoliceNewsThe Voice of PoliceThe big Canterbury quake– one cop’s experienceCanterbury was struck by a devastating earthquake on the 22nd of February. Six months on, the city is still decimatedand the slow repair job is beginning. The major quake claimed the lives of 182 people and left many with seriousinjuries. Subsequent large aftershocks have put the populace on edge and, as winter descends, many people arestruggling to come to terms with the loss of life, homes and jobs. The tragedy marked a huge test for emergencypersonnel, who were stretched to the limit but worked tirelessly to bring reassurance, comfort and safety to thosewho survived while at the same time dealing with the grim task of body recovery and identification. Frontline policewere amongst the first on the scene in a CBD, which was hugely devastated by the initial shake. Many police officersresponded by coming in on days off and working exceedingly long hours to reassure their community. Others camefrom other NZ centres to help their Canterbury colleagues while our Australian counterparts came from across theircontinent to muck in and help in any way they could. Senior Constable Michael Farrall was at Christchurch CentralPolice Station when the big one struck. This was his experience of that fatal day that will live long in many policeofficers’ memories.12.51pm, Tuesday, 22nd February 2011.Kaiapoi Police Station, 20km North ofChristchurch, had taken delivery of a brandnew patrol car the previous day.I am standing next to the car, in the yardoutside the garage at the Christchurch CentralPolice Station, in the sunlight of a beautifullate summer afternoon. My sergeant ison his way into Christchurch, behind me,driving the older patrol car, which is bookedin for some work. I have been twiddling mythumbs for about 15 minutes wonderingwhere he is when the shaking starts “OK herecomes another one” I think to myself, havingendured constant after-shocks following the22 September earthquake the previous year.Then “this one’s going on for bit” then “uhoh,this is a good one”.The 13-storey police station, St Elmo’s Courtapartment block, and the Central Post Officebuildings are all rocking. I am thinking: “I’mso glad I’m out in the open”. It’s hard tokeep my feet as the shaking gets stronger. I“assume the position”, bracing myself againstthe patrol car. I start planning my escaperoute in case the police station collapses. Alarge steel rack of wheels and tyres crashesover in the garage behind me and I start tosee smoke from a fire and dust rising frombuildings on Montreal Street, I hear caralarms sounding. “Holy Sh**”, I say to myself,as I realise that people are going to die in this.ChaosThe shaking subsides. People start totrickle out of the station looking dazed andbewildered. A torrent of water from a brokenwater main is surging out from under theSpecial Tactics Group’s (STG) pre-fab in thecorner of the yard. A cop in blue overallsruns to peer under the building. I listen andrealise I have no show of getting on the radiofor directions. As I get into the new patrolcar, two people are forcing open the jammedvehicle gate onto Hereford Street.I race out the gate heading down HerefordStreet towards Hagley Park, lights andsiren wailing. My mind is racing. I head tothe smoke - Ronald McDonald House. I’mrunning on pure adrenaline. People outsidethe building are ok. I continue on to theintersection of Gloucester Street and OxfordTerrace. It’s covered in glass. I arrive at theintersection of Durham Street and TuamStreet. The traffic is jammed and a panickingman runs over and points out a whitetradesman’s van gridlocked on Tuam Street.“I’ve got a guy from work in the back, he’s ina bad way,” he tells me.I tell him to follow me and we’ll get to thehospital. I head slowly down Tuam Street withthe van managing to follow but a be-jewelledlady in a shiny new black SUV is not movingout of my way. I wind down the passengerwindow and pull alongside. I am about to giveher a serve when she holds up a bandaged,heavily bleeding hand and yells: “I’m trying toget to the hospital”. I immediately feel awfulfor even thinking of yelling at her.I tell her about the man in the van and shemoves left.Frenzied activityWe arrive at the exit to the ambulance bay.The evacuated doctors and nurses run up,climb into the back of the van carrying theirmedical kits and there is a frenzy of activity.My sergeant is on the radio - a man’s man, apig hunter, a man I have calmly faced yearsof serious and dangerous incidents alongside.His voice is raised and he sounds distressed.“I’m at the CTV building, Comms. There’speople trapped, it’s on fire, they’re yelling forhelp. Get the fire engines here now or peopleare going to die!”The traffic is gridlocked and completelycovered in bricks and large lumps of masonryas I head towards the CTV building. Streetsare lined with crushed cars, many buildingshave no frontages, people are covered indust, crying and bleeding.As I drive down Lichfield Street, I suddenlythink: “I’m driving over bricks and rubble inthis brand new shiny patrol car, I’ll be in thesh** when they get it back”.Collapsed buildingsPart of the Edward Gibbon Building has fallenacross Madras Street completely blockingit. A hundred metres north of this pile is theCTV building. A CIB member has stoppedin the intersection and is trying to deal withthe gridlock and mayhem. No-one can tellme if the Edward Gibbon Building has beenchecked. I go in. I see warehouse shelvesleaning. It doesn’t look too bad so I creeparound. I am frightened. I call out as I movearound. No answer. All clear.I realise there is no way emergency serviceshave a hope of getting to the CTV buildingwith the gridlock, so I run down TuamStreet to Barbadoes Street, running passedgridlocked cars with drivers crying, manyfrantically dialling on cell-phones.People are walking, crying, torn, bleeding,and dirty. I start directing traffic. I’m waving,running, yelling, pointing. My mind is racing.Just get them out of the CBD. I send them202August 2011