My first day on the job

Often I digress to the days of my youth and spin few tales, tall or not, they are mine and they make me happy when sharing. I was telling this particular story to my sister just last night and she said, “You have got to blog this one”, so here we are. This story has to do with my first few months as a Police Officer in the late 1960’s. I was still in the Academy, but working a few hours, an evening with an, “FTO, Field Training Officer and how I destroyed a brand new Police car my first time out.

Going to school eight hours a day in a Police Academy, studying to be a Police Office is a bit harder than college. I have managed to accomplish both in my life, I can attest to the fact of constant push-ups, running and constantly degraded is not the same as college, unless you have pledged to a rotten Fraternity.

I was only a few months out of the military when accepted, still in good shape and that was a big day in my family too. My Father, Grandfather and two Uncles were all on the force. I have mentioned in the past that I came from an Irish family and we managed to fit right into that American mold of my lineage, even my cousins in Ireland were constables, so, yes, it was expected of me, actually dictated.

After a period studying, hitting the books and understanding what you are doing, the new recruit, not yet a sworn officer, is assigned to a Field Training Officer and a patrol car for a few hours a day. I was a nervous wreck, I had taken so much equipment to the car that the trainer stood there with his hands on his hips asking if I was working or moving in permanently.

After thoroughly chewed out for making us late for patrol we began our small shift. We were two hours into the shift when the trainer pulled the unit into a parking space and tossed me the keys for the remaining hour. I darn near had a heart attack. I did not want to drive that patrol care in any form. It was brand new and this was its first day on the job as well as mine, very bad karma. I knew should I put one small dent in the body I would be in trouble. I had no choice and nervously moved over to take the wheel.

Our next call was mundane, a stolen vehicle report and I stood idly by trying to look busy while the trainer took care of it. I had gathered that I was not yet trusted to talk to the citizens, well, he had actually told me that, so I knew quite well to stay quite and look important.

I am driving and trying my best to avoid everything I could see, even staying eight car lengths behind vehicles. The next call was the one every rookie waits for and dreams about, a burglary in progress in an occupied house. This is the big one, adrenalin rush to the limits, racing at Mach 1, sirens blaring, red lights rotating and mirroring off other vehicles, I was in heaven and I just knew I would be the envy of my classmates.

A few blocks close to the scene the trainer instructed me to shut down all emergency sound and lights. The object was to actually get the person inside, save the family, the day and be a hero, or so I had fantasized.

While pulling onto the scene the trainer instructed me to stop directly in front of the home, blocking the front escape route, I was to bail out, weapon drawn taking the right side of the home, while he went to the left and we would meet in the rear. The responding units would cover the front and escape route. All the while I could hear the sirens in the distance coming to our assistance, which only added to my excitement. My blood pressure had to be at a maximum level and I was experiencing an adrenalin rush higher than I had ever achieved in combat. This was real, honest to God Police action and my first day on the patrol had found me in the middle of it.

I pulled the unit directly in front, as instructed, opened the driver’s door, drew my weapon and bailed out, running to the right as instructed, all the while watching every possible window and door. I was determined to catch the person and be the hero of the day and the envy of all in the Academy.

Just as I was reaching the rear of the home, I heard the noise. It was the loudest crashing noise I had ever heard and I could actually see the entire house in front of me shaking on its foundation. I had no idea what it was, all I could assume was something inside had blown up, or multiple close range shots from a shotgun.

Then I heard my Trainer begin screaming, ranting and calling me names that I had never even heard in the military. I was terrified and yet, had no idea what I had managed to do.

I heard him say that the family was safe, the perpetrators had escaped in the confusion and for me to get my #*&$%#^$% to the front of the home.

Like most of my brothers on the net, I have seen my share of combat and the devastation of a bombing. I have even seen the aftereffect of an Arclight, a B52 carpet-bombing, nothing remains alive, not even the soil.

What I had never seen was a brand new Police Car sitting in the living room of a perfectly good home with all of the previously captive family standing around calling me every name they could imagine.

I quickly learned that as I had bailed out of the unit, I had left the engine running and the vehicle in gear, for some unknown reason the accelerator had stuck in the open position, not my fault, but that did not matter. The unit had crashed straight through the porch and directly into the living room. The only consolation was the family had been laying face down at gunpoint in the rear of the home, as the unit had crashed into the living room; man holding them hostage actually screamed like a woman and dived, face first out of the back window.

Of course, with all of the noise and confusion and the small task of a very large car crashing into a home, my trainer had missed him because he too had been busy at the time, running for his life.

Capitan’s, Lieutenants, Sergeants and just about every officer working that shift all came just to see the car in the house and then the news trucks arrived. Not one single person ever spoke to me, I was non-existent and everyone knew I was never to be seen again.

The Chief of Police called me into his office the next morning. That is similar to the commanding General of a base asking to see you. Not a happy thought and an officer can work twenty years without ever meeting the Chief of Police, except for the occasional accolade or award and all he does then is pin you, shake your hand and make a speech.

I was not dismissed or even reprimanded in writing, which is the curse of death to a rookie; it turned out the Chief had made the same mistake when he was a rookie and he actually laughed when showing me the news clippings. Yes, I had realized my dream, I had become famous, all over the newspaper, there I was standing in the back attempting to look important. However, instead of graduating with my classmates I was assigned to three months additional defensive and offensive driving with special emphasis on parking.

I never made that mistake again and when I was assigned the job of being a Field Training Officer, the first thing I would do was show the rookie the newspaper clippings.