By Duane Wolfe
Parkers Prairie (Minn.) Police Department
A long time ago when the Earth was flat, Wooly Mammoths roamed the tundra, and cops carried revolvers, I decided I wanted to be a police officer. So I went to college to work on my degree, part of the requirements for which was that I had to do an internship with a police department. I’d get a uniform and ride around in a squad car for eight weeks.
The cops I rode with were all strong, tough, and fearless. I wanted to be like them. I wasn’t yet...and I knew it. I wasn’t strong or tough or fearless.
We responded to an accident involving a drunk driver who had rolled his car, been ejected through the front windshield, and managed to survive. I remember it was one of those nights you can see your breath but it wasn’t cold. As the driver lay in the ditch each one of the cuts on his body had a small column of steam rising from it and the headlights and squad lights seemed to make them dance.
As they worked on the semi-conscious driver he became combative. Being worthless for anything else I was assigned to help hold him down so they could finish working on him prior to transport. I still remember the mixed smells of dew, blood, soil, booze, and radiator fluid. The more firmly we tried to hold him down the worse he fought. He was a slippery, bloody mess, but eventually he was back-boarded and transported.
This was the early 80s, so HIV was something that only occurred far away and would never touch us. That is to say, I had no gloves. When we cleared the scene I had to be careful how I held my hands to avoid getting blood on my light blue shirt. I remember looking down and seeing my arms covered, almost up to my elbows, in someone else’s blood. I can still remember what it felt like having to force my fingers apart to keep them from sticking together, as the blood started to dry. I can still remember the smell.
We had been headed to dinner when the call came in, so when we were done we headed to a local restaurant. We went into the bathroom and washed our hands. As we sat at the booth all eyes were on me since this had been my first “real” call.
Each of the officers assured me, “You’ll get used to it, kid.”