by David Peace
Penned in by horses. Penned in by dogs. Penned in by pigs:
Hundreds of Hampshire policemen have been flown in aboard a Boeing 737. From Hum to East Midlands airport. Billeted in Nissen huts. Paid time and a half –
Tax free –
To stand with thousands of local policemen. Three deep in human walls –
Human walls to keep miner from miner. Striker from scab –
Neil Fontaine walks among them. He takes photographs for the Jew:
The people. His people. Their protest. His protest. Their placards. His placards –
Adolf Scargill. Nottinghamshire miners have a lot of bottle. Right to Work.
Neil Fontaine takes notes for the Jew. He listens to their leaders. He hears:
‘– you are the only friends MacGregor has got –
‘– it’s about time you acted like bloody men –
‘– showed your solidarity with other miners.’
He takes notes. Records their response. Hears:
‘– resign –
‘– traitor –
‘– we’re off to work tomorrow. We’re off to work tomorrow. Off to work –’
Neil Fontaine hears –
Possibilities.
Neil Fontaine leaves Mansfield. He drives up the M1. Onto the M62 –
Eastbound. Maps out. Notes –
Possibilities.
Neil Fontaine passes Ferrybridge. Turns off at Goole. Takes small roads through Scunthorpe. To Immingham Dock. He parks. He walks about. He takes photographs. Notes. He listens. He hears –
Possibilities.
Neil Fontaine gets back in his car. He drives back through Scunthorpe. He comes to Flixborough. To Gunness. He parks. He walks about. Takes more photographs. Notes. He inhales. He smells –
Possibilities.
Neil Fontaine gets back in his car. He follows the lorries back down to Sheffield. He comes to the black chimneys. To the giant ovens. He parks. He walks about –
He listens. He hears. He inhales. He smells. He watches. He sees –
Railways. Roads. Slag heaps. Disused workings –
He sees land. Space –
Open space.
He closes his eyes. He remembers. He opens his eyes. He sees –
Batons. Shields. Horses. Dogs. Dust. Blood –
Victory.
Neil Fontaine has his notes. His photographs. His plans. His battle-plans –
The Jew will have his victory –
Here.
Neil Fontaine stands in the telephone box. Neil Fontaine makes the call –
The Jew is at his suite on the fourth floor of Claridge’s.
‘This place is called what again?’ asks the Jew.
Neil Fontaine stares out at the possibilities. Neil Fontaine says, ‘Orgreave.’
Training days. They march him across moorland. Put bags on his back. Handcuff him to the next man. Walk him through the days. Warminster and Sandhurst accents in the rain. Whispers in the rain. Echoes. Training nights. They sit him in the back of Transits. Put bags on his head. Handcuff him to the next man. Drive him through the night. Camberley and Latimer accents in the dark –
Whispers in the dark –
Echoes.
The Brass give him a cell. Make him Team Leader. Two thieves and a rapist from the Army of the Rhine. Military Prison. Time off the block for a bit of bad behaviour back in Blighty. Remission. Parole. Early doors –
Whispers. Echoes –
The Brass give his team photographs. The Brass sit them down at the top table. The Brass yawn. His team stare. The Brass pick their noses. His men scratch their balls.
The Brass give his team videos. The Brass sit them down before the big screen. The Brass yawn. His team watch. The Brass bite their nails. His men crack their knuckles.
The Brass give his team orders. The Brass open the door. The Brass yawn –
His team leave. The Brass wave –
The Mechanic and his men gone.
Dick was still in Scotland. Everyone else on the top floor. Terry Winters took the stairs. Two at a time. Late again. Terry hung his jacket outside with all the others. He knocked once. He went inside. He mumbled his apologies –
The Tweeds and the Denims stared. The Tweeds and the Denims muttered.
Terry took a seat by the door.
Joan was standing at the front. Joan saying, ‘– thirty-eight arrested at Wivenhoe. Twenty-one at Harworth. Better news from Lancashire. Only two pits there now working. We calculate that a hundred and twenty-one pits are out, forty-nine still producing some coal. President –’
Joan sat down.
The President stood up. He said, ‘Thank you, Comrade. I have agreed to attend next Monday’s May Day rally in Mansfield. However, Monday week, there will also be a Union family rally in the town. The Areas and Panels will be notified today. Coaches will be provided to ensure every branch is represented. Chief Executive –’
The President looked down at Terry. Everybody looked down at Terry –
Terry looked down at his calculator and his files. Terry blushed. Terry looked up. Terry said, ‘That is correct, President.’
The President waited. The President said, ‘And the Local Council, Comrade?’
Terry nodded. Terry said, ‘All the necessary approval has been granted.’
The President waited. The President said, ‘Anything else, Comrade?’
Terry shrugged his shoulders. Terry shook his head. Terry said, ‘No.’
The President said, ‘Thank you, Comrade. The final items on the agenda are the General Secretary’s statement on behalf of the Vice-President on the situation regarding the local agreements with the ISTC and transport unions. No doubt you are all aware that BSC have intensified their use of scab road haulage to maintain deliveries and coal stocks at their plants. The General Secretary will then also make a brief statement of his own in regard to coal stocks at CEGB sites. General Secretary –’
Paul stood up. He was looking at Terry.
Terry looked back down at his calculator. He had pressed 773407734.
He turned the calculator upside down –
Terry smiled. Terry closed his eyes –
Chickens, the lot of them. The Tweeds. The Denims –
Headless chickens, the lot of them.
Terry didn’t panic. He just did it. Terry didn’t read the forms the Council sent him. The small print. He just signed where he had to sign. Signed what he had to sign. Terry didn’t listen to the things the Council asked for on the phone. The guarantees. He just agreed with what they said. Agreed to what they said. Terry didn’t question the terms the coach firms wanted. The prices. He just accepted what they said. Accepted everything. Terry knew the important thing was that the President got what he wanted –
Britain’s biggest ever trade union demonstration –
That he got what he wanted. Next Monday in Mansfield. The biggest –
The phone was ringing. Terry opened his eyes –
He was back downstairs. He was back in his office. Back behind his desk.
Terry picked up the phone. Click-click. He said, ‘Chief Executive speaking.’
‘Bill Reed here,’ said Bill Reed. Bill edited the Miner –
Terry had stopped smiling.
He knows she’s hurting. In the backs of Ford Transits again. No windows. Transit stops. They put bags on their heads again. No eyeholes. He closes his eyes in the dark. He knows she’s hurting. The doors open. They take them out of the Transit. The air is cold. They march them across the tarmac. Up steps. Onto seats. Doors shut. Motors start. Engines. Helicopter engines. Up they go. He closes his eyes. He knows she’s hurting. Down they come. Motors stop. Doors open. Down steps. Across tarmac. The air cold. Keys turn. Doors open. The air old. Down corridors. Doors open. Keys turn. They stop. They take the bags off their heads. He opens his eyes. He blinks. Stares –
Bare bulbs. Bunk beds. Blankets. Kit bags –
Barracks.
D
oors slam. Keys turn –
The Mechanic closes his eyes again –
He knows Jen is hurting. Knows he is not there for her –
Not yet.
Martin
support them – To save them. They get no coke, they got no job. They got no job, we got no job, someone else shouts. Keith turns round. Divide and rule, he shouts. That’s what she bloody wants. Fucking stick together. That’s only way there is – Stick together, someone laughs. Tell that to fucking Nottingham. Tell them your fucking self, snaps John. Never seen you down there. Should do more for them, Pete says. Them that are out down there, they need all help they can get. All help we can give them. Keith nods. We need everyone on picket line, that’s what we need, says Keith. All of you. Room goes up. Big shouts – Fuck off! Shut up! Need to stop yapping about it. Need to start dishing it out – Petrol money isn’t going to get us a new radiator, is it? Pete shakes his head. Pete stands back up. This is getting us nowhere, he says. Bloody nowhere. Day 65. John’s driving. Following Pete’s piece of paper again. What he’s written. Talk is all of gangs and squads – Hit squads. Super squads. Scab squads. Intercept-or squads – Lads getting hidings from gangs of off-duty coppers – Squaddie gangs. Scab gangs – Like after Sheffield. Police had just waded in. Taken anyone in town centre after dark – Beaten fuck out of them. Nicked them – Tried that shit earlier, says Keith. Be no fucking Sheffield left now. There’s rumours that scabs are giving names of blokes on strike in Notts to police. Their addresses. Police giving names to these hit squads. Hired hands. Lads getting ambushed. Wives getting dirty calls when their men are out picketing. Heavy breathing – I’ve told Cath to keep chain on when I’m out – Be Yorkshire next, says Little John. Mark my words. Get through again. Creswell again. Police waiting. Cameras out. Smile. Stick us out of road. Scabs go in – Waving. Smiling – Bastards. We shove. Shout – That’s all we do. All we fucking can do. They’re in and we’re out. That’s it. Head back to cars. Police waving bye-bye – Smiling. Fucking bastards – Wasting our bloody time down here, says Keith. Never going to change their bloody minds. Be better at power stations. Trent wharves. Pay off would come then. You’d soon see. Day 68. Bad dreams again – We lie among corpses. Thousands of them. We are parched. Drowned in blood. Stained armour. Fallen crowns. We lie among corpses. We listen to the field beneath us. Worms coming. Slugs. Rats. Little bloody footprints across cold white skin. We lie among corpses. We look up at the sky. Clouds coming. Rain. Crows – One lands on me. Struts upon my chest. Cocks its head. It goes for my eye – I wake up. Bad dreams are mine – All mine. Here we go. Here we go. Here we go – Day 69. Mansfield rally today. Most of wives have come – Cath too. She wanted to. Lot of blokes have brought their kids and all. We’ve got on coach. Right laugh it is. Lot of songs. Banter. Come to Leisure Centre. We get off coach – What a sight. Must be thirty thousand easy. Banners as far as you can see – From Scotland. Wales. Lancashire. Derbyshire. Kent and Yorkshire – By bus. By van. By car. By foot – Here to their Heartland. Not to intimidate them. Not to bully them – Here to shame them. God smiling on us too. Baking-hot sunshine. We march through town centre behind our banner. Heads held high, lot of us. Heads high with pride. Hand in hand with Cath. Kids sat on front of banner. Ice creams. Local folk out to welcome us. Clapping us. Cheering us from rooftops – Roaring us on. No scabs and their wives. None of Maggie’s Storm-troopers. Not a helmet in sight. Just thirty thousand ordinary, decent men, women and children. Twelve noon we come back to Leisure Centre. Can’t get near platform. But we can hear them. Tony Benn. Dennis Skinner – We can cross frontiers we have never dreamed of. We can not only stop pit closures – we can have Socialism. Fantastic every one of them. Cath clapping. Cheering. Chant goes up for Arthur. Who people want. One name – Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur – I look over at Cath – Clapping. Cheering. Chanting with best of them. And he’s magnificent. Magnificent – You have got a union leadership who are prepared to lead until we win, and win we will – She looks at me. She squeezes my hand. She has tears in her eyes. Tears in mine – Good ones, for a change.
The Tenth Week
Monday 7 – Sunday 13 May 1984
Bill Reed and the President went way back. Bill Reed knew the President from Woolley. Bill Reed knew the President from Barnsley. Bill Reed had been the President’s candidate. Bill Reed had got the job. Now Bill Reed edited the Miner, the Union’s paper.
Bill Reed put down his cup. Bill Reed said, ‘Think it’s fair? Us donating our salary to the hardship fund? I’m not on strike. I’m working twenty-four hours a day, me.’
‘What do you want, Comrade?’ said Terry.
Bill Reed nodded. Bill Reed said, ‘This contact of mine, very well placed. Remember he told me they’d got someone inside Huddersfield Road?’
Terry said nothing. He stirred his coffee –
Anticlockwise.
Bill Reed leant across the table. Bill Reed said, ‘I know who it is, Comrade.’
Terry stopped stirring his coffee. He put the spoon on the saucer.
‘Did my homework on this feller at Manton,’ said Bill Reed. ‘Feller who’s organized the vote down there. This Don Colby?’
Terry took a sip from his coffee. He put the cup back down. He shook his head.
Bill Reed smiled. Bill Reed said, ‘Turns out you and Don have a mutual friend.’
Terry said nothing. Terry waited –
Bill Reed smiled. Bill Reed said, ‘Clive Cook.’
*
She had got the Jew and Neil Fontaine on a private flight up to Prestwick. Not Glasgow. Her car was there to meet them. Drive them straight to Motherwell –
Neil Fontaine sat in the front with the driver. The Jew in the back with the Brass. The Strathclyde Brass briefed the Jew about the day’s events at Ravenscraig. The Craig. The events at Hunterston –
The lorries. The horses. The injuries. The arrests. The photographs. The numbers.
The Brass told the Jew one thousand pickets had already gathered at Hunterston –
The Jew rubbed his hands. The Jew wanted to be where the action was –
And the action was now steel –
Steel, the New Battlefield.
The Jew watched the horses charge. The pickets fall or fly –
The Jew applauded. The Jew thanked the Brass. The Jew had seen enough. It was home time –
Neil Fontaine opens his eyes. He watches the lights come up from down below. Nothing too good for her friends. Private night flight back: Prestwick to East Midlands. The Jew in the cockpit. The Jew in the co-pilot’s seat. The Jew waving his licence about. The Jew with his hands on the controls. Neil Fontaine with his stomach in his mouth. Touchdown. More applause. Handshakes. Another private car waiting on the tarmac –
Nothing too good for her friends –
Nothing too good for his friends either; the Jew’s new friends:
The link-up of friendship.
The Jew has hired the upstairs room of a modern pub –
The Green Dragon. Oxton. The middle of nowhere.
The Jew has laid on beer and sandwiches. The men arrive in dribs and drabs. They shuffle in. They stand in the corners. They drink heavily –
They don’t touch the sandwiches.
The Jew moves from man to man. The Jew introduces man to man –
Fred, this is Don. Don, this is Fred. Fred is from Pye Hill. Don is from Manton. Fred, this is Jimmy. Jimmy, this is Fred. Fred is from Pye Hill. Jimmy is from Lea Hall –
Jimmy, this is –
The link-up of friendship.
They form small groups. They stand in the corners. They drink heavily –
They don’t touch the sandwiches.
They whisper about this branch and that branch. Behind their hands about this secretary and that secretary. Under their breath about this solicitor. That solicitor –
They stand in the corners and talk about right and wrong. They drink heavily –
They don’t touch the
sandwiches.
They are the Nottingham Working Miners’ Committee – The Secret Nottingham Working Miners’ Committee.
*
Terry called Clive Cook from a payphone. Terry spoke in code. Terry set it up –
Dawn. Woolley Edge Services.
Terry was early. Clive was late –
Clive got out of his car. Clive wore sunglasses. Clive crossed the car park –
Clive said, ‘I don’t think I can take much more of this, Comrade.’
‘Get in,’ said Terry. ‘You might not have to.’
Terry drove down little roads and little lanes. Terry drove to Bretton Park –
Down by the lake, they sat down. Terry said, ‘Bill Reed called me.’
‘How very unpleasant for you,’ said Clive.
Terry grabbed Clive by his coat. Terry said, ‘For you actually, Comrade.’
‘What?’ said Clive. ‘What are you talking about?’
Terry pulled Clive closer. Terry whispered, ‘Bill says you’re Special Branch.’
Clive pushed Terry away. Clive swung at Terry. Clive missed Terry –
‘Fuck you!’ screamed Clive. ‘Fuck you for getting me into this, Winters!’
Terry shook his head. Terry said, ‘I’m just telling you what Bill said.’
‘You believe him,’ cried Clive. ‘You fucking believe him! You fucking –’
Terry walked over to Clive. Terry put his arms round Clive.
‘I’ve only been doing what you told me to do,’ sobbed Clive. ‘That’s all.’
Terry squeezed Clive tight. Terry said, ‘I know that, Comrade. I know –’
‘Now I’m finished,’ wept Clive. ‘Because of you and that drunk bastard.’
Terry held Clive. Terry said, ‘I’ll talk to the President for you.’
*
They lift weights. They run. They wrestle. They shower. The Brass break them into their cells. Their teams. The Brass give them photographs. Maps. The Brass give them instructions. Uniforms. The teams change into their brand-new boiler suits. They sit on their beds. They crack their knuckles. They grind their teeth –