Walter De Havilland
Some history, a few opinions, the odd rant and other noises from one of the last of the colonial coppers.
The moment comes compressed time and distance. A shift in time that baffled me. The absurdity. The sudden interruption of events, with flashes of memory. A different place, a different tempo, a different world.
There is pandemonium around me. I'm holding a bandage on the chest wound of a stabbing victim as his rasping breath is failing through a blood spittled mouth.
The usual gawking Hong Kong crowd presses in around me. Sweat trickles off my forehead with the oppressive heat of a July evening.
A constable arrives beside me with a first aid kit. I reach for another bandage, ripping open the package, then holding the wound dressing it in place with my elbow.
As the wrapping fell away, I caught sight of 'Smith and Nephews'. In an instant, I was back home in the UK, riding to work on my bike as the night shift girls huddle together at the factory gates against the chill of the morning air. In a sudden displacement, the world around me is so alien, disconnected. I was out of place.
Then, I'm back in Hong Kong. All business-like, I hand the dying man into the care of an ambulance crew, pushing back the crowds and then clearing the road and securing the scene for the nicotine-stained CID officers.
This is the life.
Another call comes in … "Robbery in progress." So it's blue lights and sirens down Nathan Road, lighting up the faces of startled onlookers as we barrel our way through the heavy traffic. Jesus Christ … this is fun! I'd pay them to let me do this job.
There is pandemonium around me. I'm holding a bandage on the chest wound of a stabbing victim as his rasping breath is failing through a blood spittled mouth.
The usual gawking Hong Kong crowd presses in around me. Sweat trickles off my forehead with the oppressive heat of a July evening.
A constable arrives beside me with a first aid kit. I reach for another bandage, ripping open the package, then holding the wound dressing it in place with my elbow.
As the wrapping fell away, I caught sight of 'Smith and Nephews'. In an instant, I was back home in the UK, riding to work on my bike as the night shift girls huddle together at the factory gates against the chill of the morning air. In a sudden displacement, the world around me is so alien, disconnected. I was out of place.
Then, I'm back in Hong Kong. All business-like, I hand the dying man into the care of an ambulance crew, pushing back the crowds and then clearing the road and securing the scene for the nicotine-stained CID officers.
This is the life.
Another call comes in … "Robbery in progress." So it's blue lights and sirens down Nathan Road, lighting up the faces of startled onlookers as we barrel our way through the heavy traffic. Jesus Christ … this is fun! I'd pay them to let me do this job.
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