Petrol bombs, bricks and taunts... the terror facing riot police

Every five weeks hundreds of police officers who have volunteered to join the Met's Territorial Support Group line up to face a barrage of petrol bombs, other missiles and verbal abuse from colleagues in order to prepare them for the real thing.

Criticism of the Metropolitan Police's handling of recent demonstrations in the capital has been severe. But training for such duties is arduous and regular.

I joined officers in the group at the Met's public order training centre in Gravesend and, like them, donned riot gear weighing three and a half stone, grabbed a shield and prepared for action.

The session began, as always, with the so-called shield run. Officers sprinted around a replica town centre in full riot gear and carrying a 5ft 6in shield. The 500-yard course had to be completed in under two minutes and 45 seconds.

Then training began in earnest. The men and women practised drills while facing a hail of flaming missiles. In tight formation the unit marched through the streets, clearing tight alleys and balconies like those of a typical London housing estate. Each officer had to stand firm as protesters hurled masonry, barriers and metal poles towards them.

Engulfed in flames and with bricks raining down on me, I could see nothing through the smoke. Glass shattered as petrol bombs hit my riot shield.

I held my breath and closed my eyes, waiting for the choking fumes to disperse, eventually opening them to see a masked man sprinting towards me wielding another blazing bottle.

Someone behind bellowed the order: "Forward!" Reluctantly I raised my shield and headed towards the threat.

The body armour, balaclava and helmet limit visibility and hearing what is going on around you is almost impossible. It is difficult to imagine how the officers are able to cope during a real protest that gets out of control.

Just weeks before, these same officers stood at the bottom of Millbank Tower as a mob of students raided Tory HQ. One female officer told me how she was grazed by the hose of the fire extinguisher that was thrown from the top of the building by 18-year-old sixth-former Edward Woollard on 10 November.

He was later jailed for two years and eight months after admitting violent disorder.

One of the officer's colleagues said: "We found the extinguisher afterwards and it didn't have a mark on it even though it had come off the top of a building. She wouldn't have stood a chance. We all go into this job knowing it is very likely that we will be injured at some point, but this was different."

Others spoke of the "fear and panic" they feel as they stand toe-to-toe with thousands of angry protesters. "It can be absolutely terrifying," said one. "But it's our job and we know it has to be done."

The officers' final exercise of the day was to suppress a recreated riot before arresting the ringleaders. "Protesters" in masks lobbed bricks and petrol bombs. In the thick, acrid smoke, the officers again held their breath and their nerve, never letting their eyes leave those wielding the weapons. Though only an exercise, the atmosphere was terrifying.

The unit moved forward through the fire, police dogs snarling and snapping in front of the riot shields.

"The dogs can't read what's written on your helmet," an officer said. "You'll get bitten just like a protester if you get too close."

While the actions of some members of the Territorial Support Group have been criticised, seeing it from an officer's perspective conveys a sense of the dangers they face.