AN­GE­LO JE­DIDI­AH

Re­porter

an­ge­lo.je­didi­ah@guardian.co.tt

The stands were packed. The ex­cite­ment was build­ing, and the Strike Squad foot­ball team was all set. But un­be­knownst to the crowd, the team and many oth­ers, a grim cri­sis had al­ready en­gulfed T&T. With­in mo­ments, key mem­bers of the foot­ball team would trade their cleats for com­bat boots, step­ping di­rect­ly in­to the un­fold­ing chaos of the 1990 at­tempt­ed coup. And they were cer­tain­ly ready for ac­tion.

A match that changed in an in­stant

Fri­day, Ju­ly 27, 1990, be­gan like any oth­er day, with cit­i­zens look­ing for­ward to the week­end. Af­ter work or their dai­ly rou­tines, many made their way to the Hase­ly Craw­ford Sta­di­um for what was sup­posed to be an ‘or­di­nary’ thrilling match be­tween T&T and Ja­maica in the Shell Caribbean Cup fi­nals.

Known as the Strike Squad, the beloved na­tion­al men’s foot­ball team in­clud­ed play­ers who dou­bled as ac­tive mem­bers of the T&T De­fence Force. Among them was Dex­ter “Peck” Fran­cis.

“I went in­to the De­fence Force in 1984. In those days they telling you, ‘join the army, see the world.’ At that time, the De­fence Force was play­ing foot­ball all over,” Fran­cis told Guardian Me­dia.

Be­yond his train­ing as a sol­dier and play­ing on the field, the 26-year-old sol­dier was sta­tioned at the De­fence Force ad­min­is­tra­tive of­fice in Port-of-Spain.

But on that late Fri­day af­ter­noon, noth­ing seemed out of the or­di­nary. Not for the reg­i­ment. Not for the foot­ballers. And not for the fans who filled the stands. But sud­den­ly, every­thing changed.

The an­nounce­ment that changed every­thing

“We were on the field play­ing our game and they made an an­nounce­ment. Brigadier Ralph Brown just an­nounced that ‘some­thing’ took place and every­body have to clear out the sta­di­um and for play­ers to get back to the dress­ing rooms,” Fran­cis re­count­ed.

Ja­maat al Mus­limeen in­sur­rec­tion­ists, led by Yasin Abu Bakr, had stormed Par­lia­ment at the Red House, vi­o­lent­ly tak­ing mem­bers and staff hostage. Abu Bakr had al­so seized con­trol of Trinidad and To­ba­go Tele­vi­sion (TTT) Lim­it­ed and an­nounced that the Gov­ern­ment had been over­thrown. But none of this was known to those at the sta­di­um.

“Then they made a next an­nounce­ment: ‘All de­fence per­son­nel, re­port to Camp Or­gen’ in Long Cir­cu­lar.”

From foot­ballers to sol­diers

Fran­cis says some of the oth­ers with him, such as Hut­son Charles, Ker­ry Jamer­son, Dex­ter Lee and sev­er­al oth­ers, were des­per­ate to fig­ure out what was hap­pen­ing.

From his point of view, there was no sort of pan­ic from the crowd de­part­ing the sta­di­um, just pure con­fu­sion, as they re­mained obliv­i­ous to the night­mare un­fold­ing in an­oth­er part of the na­tion’s cap­i­tal.

The play­ers were trans­port­ed to a ho­tel in the cap­i­tal to await fur­ther in­struc­tions, while arrange­ments were swift­ly made for the Ja­maican team to safe­ly leave the coun­try.

“Brigadier Brown told us sol­diers, ‘Here’s what hap­pen­ing. Go home by the Sat­ur­day morn­ing, or­gan­ise your­selves, meet your fam­i­lies and come back in the next day,’ that would be Sun­day af­ter­noon.”

Re­turn­ing to the front line

Fran­cis, who lived in Siparia, re­turned home to spend time with his young son and fam­i­ly. But for those liv­ing in South Trinidad and oth­er rur­al ar­eas, life still felt qui­et. There was no pan­ic, as the ter­ror was con­cen­trat­ed in Port-of-Spain and its sur­round­ings.

How­ev­er, when Fran­cis made his way back to the cap­i­tal and ar­rived at Camp Og­den, the grim re­al­i­ty hit him. See­ing the de­struc­tion first­hand for the first time, it sig­nalled that this was the mo­ment to step up, to serve, guard and de­fend his coun­try.

“When we reach up there, sol­diers was just com­ing in. You go by the ar­moury and they just hand­ing you guns and am­mu­ni­tion,” he said.

“It had guys who had now left the de­fence force, sol­diers who now re­sign, a cou­ple of them came back too. No­body was fright­ened. Every­body want­ed to come out and do what they got­ta do to as­sist in the coun­try go­ing for­ward. It had noth­ing like pan­ic, you know.”

Train­ing for the mo­ment

De­spite the vi­o­lence, the ca­su­al­ties and the es­ca­lat­ing fear, Fran­cis and his fel­low ser­vice­men were well-equipped and well-pre­pared, thanks to the rig­or­ous train­ing they re­ceived over the years since their en­rol­ment.

“The sol­diers back in those days were ready for ac­tion at any time. When that thing hap­pened, sol­diers were glad to ex­press and show their train­ing. Every­body had rules and func­tions and they fol­lowed through and did so in the best pos­si­ble way they can help.”

“We were go­ing to deal with the sit­u­a­tion.”

He ad­mit­ted that of­fi­cials at the time did not want the na­tion­al foot­ballers on the front lines, in­struct­ing them to be sta­tioned at the base and sim­ply wait un­til they were need­ed or called up­on. But this was not agreed up­on by the play­ers. Every­one was more than will­ing and ready to fight for T&T’s democ­ra­cy.

The Strike Squad at the heart of the De­fence

To them, every as­sign­ment mat­tered as units were de­ployed to high-risk zones to de­fend and main­tain peace. Fran­cis al­so made spe­cial men­tion of his col­league and star goal­keep­er, Hay­den Thomas.

“He was the num­ber one goal­keep­er. He was at the front line at the Red House. No­body was fear­ful. Every­body want­ed to come out and im­ple­ment the train­ing that they had in the De­fence force.”

By the time the six-day siege came to an end, with the State of Emer­gency con­tin­u­ing, per­sons like him­self re­port­ed to their re­spec­tive de­part­ments, as much op­er­a­tional and ad­min­is­tra­tive work had to be done to re­store or­der across the shat­tered coun­try. But look­ing back, Fran­cis says that with the train­ing they had re­ceived, along with their un­yield­ing mind­set, it was enough to car­ry them through in the face of ter­ror.

A lega­cy be­yond foot­ball

In 1993, Fran­cis left the De­fence Force in pur­suit of a new ca­reer path. Now re­tired at 62 years old, he spends his time coach­ing school and com­mu­ni­ty foot­ball teams. Yet, the bonds of the 1989 Strike Squad re­main un­bro­ken. Many mem­bers still meet reg­u­lar­ly and play to­geth­er, even prepar­ing for an up­com­ing friend­ly match in Or­lan­do, Flori­da, against mem­bers of the 1990 USA na­tion­al team.

When they get to­geth­er, it is marked by ca­ma­raderie and laugh­ter. But their minds of­ten drift back to those defin­ing days. While the 1990 at­tempt­ed coup was dark, the men of the Strike Squad and the De­fence Force are proud of how they rep­re­sent­ed T&T, both on the field and on the front lines.

“As I tell you, it was good work by the na­tion­al se­cu­ri­ty de­fence force in T&T. It was tru­ly good work.”