THE SECRET WARDER: HIS SHOCKING

A PRISON officer today speaks frankly about the shocking state of Britain’s jails.

In an open letter to Justice Minister Michael Gove, the serving officer tells of brutal gang attacks, drug-dealing and demoralised staff.

His searing story of daily life on powderkeg prison wings follows a series of exclusive revelations by the Sunday People about anarchy and violence in Britain’s jails.

The officer has chosen to speak on strict condition of anonymity.

But this newspaper has repeatedly shown that his frightening description is typical of the nation’s prison system and can no longer be ignored by Mr Gove. Here are the officer’s compelling words… EVERY time I wake up on a work-day my stomach does a flipflop and I wonder what I will have to face over the next 12 hours.

There can be few jobs as unpredictable, challenging and sometimes frightening as being a prison officer in today’s overcrowded jails.

I have been an officer – a screw in convict slang – for almost two decades and I have seen the best and worst of society.

If I close my eyes, I can still see the young man whose body I had to cut down after he hanged himself in his cell with a bed sheet.

I remember his lifeless eyes and the vain attempts to resuscitate him.

He was only in his 20s – such a waste of a life.

I can still see rage in the eyes of the first inmate to attack me. Quite simply, he wanted to kill me.

And I can taste the blood in my mouth after he hammered his fist into my face.

I even remember all the times I was told by a prisoner: “Boss, I ain’t never coming back.’

They nearly always did. Prison is one big revolving door.

I work in a closed prison and am a Band 3 officer. I earn £30,000 a year before overtime.

Hard

At the moment, prison officers are in dispute with the National Offender Management Service ( NOMS) over Payment Plus, relating to overtime.

I am refusing to do any extra work to support the campaign for fair pay. There will be no summer holiday this year.

I am a family man and I help my wife with the children, who are in primary school.

They have no idea what their dad does on a daily basis. I hope they never have to find out the hard way.

I want them to go to university and have more choices in life. I fell into this job because it was steady and paid well for a school drop-out.

After saying goodbye to the kids, I dress: white shirt, epaulettes with one blue stripe to denote my rank, black clipon tie, black trousers and shoes.

I drive to the jail on the outskirts of a town in the south-east of England.

The prison dates from the Seventies and houses more than 1,000 inmates.

I go to the gate and put my mobile in a locker by security.

Nobody is allowed to take a mobile into a prison.

I often smile at this as prisons are awash with mobiles. We find dozens each month, in cells and even secreted inside bodies.

I then put my bag through an X-ray machine and walk through an airportstyle security portal.

I hand my key tally to an officer at the Key Window, authorising me to pick up a wad of keys for the jail.

Today, I am on a A wing, g, housing a vast range of inmatesates including murderers, rapistssts and a fraudster.

They cover all cultures, , with foreign nationals a growing presence.

These includes Poles, Jamaicans and Indians.. The mixture of prisonersrs causes tension at times s– – made more complicateded by religion.

The number of Muslim and Muslim converts in my prison has rocketed over the last five years.

This has coincided with the rise of a violent Muslim gang in prison.

They look after their own and have been involved in horrific clashes with other gangs. Some British-born Christians have even converted for the protection of a Muslim gang. In my prison, up to 100 go to two Friday Prayer meetings. The demand on overstretched staff means all other inmates are locked up at this time. Most Muslims respect the real meaning of their faith, , but we do have issues with a core of extremists. Som Some have tried to radicalise vul vulnerable inmates and have be been put into segregation o or moved to other jails. I have lost count of the number of times I have been called a Kafir – the Muslim word for u unbeliever. Others have taunted me ove over Islamic State atrocities, such as theth Paris attacks. You bite your lip. Otherwise, you could end up on a charge. For an early shift I will be in the wing office before 7.30am. I read the night log to see if there have been any incidents or worries about particular prisoners. If there are issues, I may check an inmate’s personal file. Any security issues are passed up to the Security Department.

I then join my colleagues. Today there are two officers and a supervising officer to unlock almost 100 prisoners.

Unlock is always a cacophony of noise: shouting, swearing and the rare ‘Good morning boss.’

I am at my most wary – I can hear my heart beating fast – as this is one of the most dangerous moments.

I can still taste the blood in my mouth from fist in my face

Terrible

In the past I have been spat at, had faeces thrown in my face, been kicked in the groin and racially abused.

I have also been faced with a cell that is drenched in blood after a prisoner cut himself with a weapon.

There was so much blood we kept slipping, trying to stem the flow as the inmate fought us.

He survived, many others who have done the same didn’t. It’s terrible, but I don’t remember any of their names.

As the cons stream out their cells, you look at their eyes, looking for signs of drug abuse.

So-called legal highs, such as Spice, have helped turn prisons into battle