This article goes out to every corrections officer that ever held the line when others around them didn't.
 
This article is for every man and woman who has ever been needlessly attacked, hurt, or humiliated by prisoners, but still finds both the courage and the dignity to pick themselves up off the floor, straighten their uniform and solider on - going on to stand their midnight watches far and away from the unknowing public whose safety they provide. I salute your resolve and the professionalism displayed by never seeking revenge; I'm with you, as is every good corrections officer in the country.  Yes, I've picked my own people up off the ground, I've seen officers' hands pressed to brows bloodied by rampaging inmates - and, yes, I've been helped up off the ground, too. 
 
This article is for every nurse, mental health professional, pregnant female staff member, retired school teacher, or silver-haired preacher who have worked inside our walls.  Each day you place your most precious possession in our hands: your personal safety.  For this show of trust, I thank you. Who among us can say, with certainty, that death or murder will never again visit another one of our institutions?  So, it would not be overdramatic to say, you entrusted your life to us, the custody officers, and custody staff entrust their safety to tactical officers with emergency plans.
 
Line staff and civilians, alike, deserve corrections tactical officers who are dedicated people, trained and indoctrinated to the inherent risks of tactical work and willing to bet their personal safety and well-being on their own ability to protect you while you work inside our prisons and jails. These are the officers of each corrections agency that won't desert you, or abandon the cause of safety and preservation of order.  I guess if it was put simply, these are the people who move forward in crisis and danger - when others are moving back.
 
This article thanks that first generation of corrections tactical officers that took hand-me-down gear, wore their own BDU's or utilities, had a worn out surplus M-17 banging off their leg, a Vietnam era Flak Jacket snapped on, and maybe a 36-inch Ash or Oak Baton (or maybe not). You stood in the combat boots you were discharged in while your teammate buttoned up your riot helmet for you before stepping off to the problem. 
 
Moments later, standing in four inches of slimy water, it sounded like all hell had broken loose at the other end of the cell block.  Of course, you couldn't see; the cell lights had been knocked out, too.  Yes, I remember you all.  I showed up in the late 80's and was that skinny former Marine or Solider or Sailor at the end of the line - the Rookie end. I learned to concentrate and focus on my assignment (whatever it was that particular night) through deafening noises, like broken cell fixtures beat against a wall, dozens of feet stomping at doors, T.V. sets thrown against windows, or perhaps even a deranged prisoner holding his weapon and howling for the moment of contact - the energy and pent up rage almost racing off of him.
 
I was taught to focus on what I was put at the scene to do: 
* protect the man in front of me, never worry about my own back
* commit no errors
* act quickly and correctly to end the disorder
* control everyone involved (yourself most of all) and work it back to normal operations.
 
I learned to Stand the Line.  It was taught to me in some dark corridor of the Jefferson County Jail some 15 years ago by a generation of senior officers and commanders that were solid, steadfast, and poised in any emergency. We may have not all been college graduates or commandos, but the people who taught me CERT could think on their feet like nobody else, knew their environment, and when they did act, it was decisive.  It was a solution to some very serious problems.
 
They were not Cowboys.  They were not knuckle draggers.  They were thinking men.  Regardless of appearance or stereotype, these were careful people who never took a step in a crisis that they had not seen in their mind's eye and planned for.  I never saw or worked with any of these guys that got mad, or needed to be emotionally Jacked Up to do a tactical job.  They listened to all good ideas.  Then they issued orders.  We shut up and carried them out - it was that important. Everyone's safety was on the line and the security and stability of a whole floor was also up for grabs.
 
I'm lucky to have worked with these officers that you can only see in old training films now, but, by no means, are unique to my part of the country.  Every Corrections Tactical Team or Emergency Crew has a genesis much like the one I describe here.
 
I regret at this late date that I didn't make more retirement parties or cut my young ego down to size to thank these officers before they scattered to the winds of time.  As a Lieutenant Colonel now, I look at our jail's tactical team fall out for formation, each with their black tactical BDU's, subdued patches, team insignia, cover, Glock Model 22's in nylon tac holsters, tactical boots, field jackets, commando sweaters, black leather Kevlar-lined search gloves, and more. And I wonder "do they have everything they need, do they have everything that will keep them safe?"
 
I watch as the young sergeant who is the Senior Team Leader inspects their appearance and an inward smile begins to grow as I think back to my first CERT training day in Louisville, Kentucky and the pride I felt when they issued me but one faded black T- Shirt, that somebody else had worn first and a pair of BDU pants.  The serviceability mattered little.  That T-shirt had the title C.E.R.T. on it and these were the people you wanted to be with when things went bad in our County Jail.  One look and you knew these officers were there for you, and we were grateful. 
 
I guess I'm trying to make two points.  First, I want to highlight just a couple of my own tactical beliefs and how I came to hold these views to younger officers. And, second, I want to acknowledge the officers and administrators that had the foresight to cobble together an Emergency Response Team doctrine in their respective jurisdictions in the early and mid 1980's, in the era and midst of mandated sentencing, madly overcrowded institutions, tapped out budgets and all the other challenges we faced in the 1980's.  Somehow, in many places, good administrators made it happen.  We owe them our thanks because it was on the backs of these people and their officers that any modern corrections TRT team is built. 
 
To those first generation CERT team commanders and operators who taught me to value professionalism over personal pride and equity of action over engaged emotion, thank you.  The confidence these officers lent to every situation was contagious and we worked each problem like the situation was never in doubt, and ultimately it never was.

Thanks to those guys in the faded BDU's.
 
So, that inward smile and swell of pride I feel when our jail's tactical officers fall out for evening watch formation is quickly tempered by my own experiences and training and the realization that, yes, my bosses and I have done O.K. by this team, when it comes to acquiring resources and establishing their team identity and standards.  But still, the question remains in my mind -- Have we adequately empowered those deputies with the most important resources?
        - Good Leadership  (First, Last, Always)
        - Belief in their brother or sister officer and their skills (You've got to know that they'll stand in there with you, no matter)
         - Good Tactical Action Planning (Simple, Effective, Flexible)
         - Strategic obedience  (Discipline, to expose yourself to high levels of discomfort when called upon, ever stay in a kneeling position for 45 minutes ? etc...)
        - And the conviction that ultimately the situation is never in doubt for them or their team mates.
(We must prevail, there is no alternative.  Corrections is by nature short of manpower, which means (in most jails, at least) we usually commit all, or nearly all, of our tactical strength to anything outside of a routine extraction.  In these incidents, you could call out Batman and the National Guard, but in most cases that situation will have been decided in the opening moments by those there and then on the scene, both TRT and line officers will work together to Contain, Isolate, & Terminate the incident.)
 
Equipment, weapons, tools, resources, in general... yeah, they're important, key, in fact, but, frankly, starting out, my teammates and I were provided little of these things by contemporary standards.  They just weren't in the budget back in that era.  But we came through each deployment O.K., largely, I believe, because we always had the five things I list above.
 
And they didn't cost a dime.
 
Work your equipment around your team, not your team around its equipment. Clothe your operators the above five principles before putting on that first pad.
 
About the Author
Lieutenant Colonel G. S. Colvin, CJM, is the Jail Operations Commander for the Kenton County Detention Center n Northern Kentucky.  He began his career as a prison officer at the Kentucky State Reformatory, LaGrange in 1988.  A year later, he joined the Louisville, Kentucky, Metropolitan Corrections Department as a detention officer.  In 2001 Colvin accepted a position with the Kenton County Detention Center.

Colvin is a Certified Master Instructor in Jail Emergency Response Teams (TJA), a Master Instructor in Edged Weapon Defense and a Defensive Tactics Instructor (PPCT, M.A.C.H.).  He is also trained ton instruct in specialty impact munitions, distraction devices and chemical munitions.