KwAcKy's Konfessional

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15 April 2005
 
Hillsborough

The game was stopped and the players slowly left the field, unaware like all of us, of the carnage which was unfolding. The realisation that we were witnessing a living nightmare came when we saw two young lads stretched out behind the goal in their red Football tops, being given the kiss of life. Many walked dazed and confused stopping only to kneel and vomit. Some had dark wet stains on their pants where they’d urinated with fear. “Something bad’s happening here lad, something really bad’s happening I can feel it. “ Alan said [A friend of Dave Kirby]. He was voicing something we all felt, but were too frightened to admit. The churning in my stomach was becoming intense. Some of us moved down towards the fence, where the sound of people screaming and pleading for help became unbearable. The despair of hearing the death cry of innocent people, mainly children, weeping as they reach out to you to save their lives, is the most painful and harrowing sound which could ever be unleashed on a human being. The vexation at being unable to help them served only to augment the pain and distress to levels which go way beyond normality, cutting deep into the mind and soul. We were now near the front peering through the bars just a few yards from the pitch. Fans who’d escaped onto the pitch were now breaking up advertising hoardings, using them as makeshift stretches. These people acted in a manner known in army terms as ‘services above and beyond the call of duty.’ One after the other they placed the bodies of dead and injured fans onto the boards then raced along the length of the pitch to the gymnasium situated underneath the North stand. The noise of ambulance sirens from the surrounding streets added to the mayhem. Just then only a few yards from where we stood, the body of a man no more than 40 years old was placed down on the pitch. As long as I live I’ll never forget him. His eyes were open, but lifeless. His black hair was wet and matted to his scalp. He wore a red Liverpool jersey with light blue denim jeans which were undone and pulled down slightly below his plump middle. Both shoes were also missing. The two men who placed him down were of a similar age. One tried desperately to revive him with mouth to mouth resuscitation while the other held his pale hand and wept. It was obvious to all but his two friends that he was dead. That lad tried so hard to bring him back to life, pleading with him to wake up in between kisses of life. In a state of complete devastation, he then began thumping and pressing on his chest shouting in tears. “Wake up Kev, please wake up.” The thumping gradually gave way to weak taps, before he rested his head onto the white letters of ‘candy’ which were written across his friends shirt, then broke down. Everyone around that fence cried with him. Like us, those lads probably set off in exuberant mood that morning. Saying goodbye to wives, kids, or parents on their way to simple football match. To be lying on the sun drenched pitch later that day over the lifeless body of a friend or relative must have been the most heart-rending traumatic ordeals imaginable. It was now too much to bare. “I’ve got to get out of here” I said.

The four of us made the decision to leave. As we left Graham asked "What's that smell?" Tom whispered "It's the smell of death, mate, it's the smell of death". And then I vomited. We had a few hours before we had to catch the coach back to London, the original plan was to waste the hours in a pub, hopefully watching Tom and Adi celebrate a Liverpool place in the final, but instead we sat in silence listening to the sirens. When we made it back home to London, I went straight into the shower, I don't know how long I was there, but the water was as cold as ice by the time I became aware of my surroundings again. I slipped into my pyjama's and made my way to Tom's room. I entered slowly, he took one look at me and burst into tears. We both spent that night in each others arms, trying to console each other, trying to come to terms with what we saw and trying to understand why it happened.




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