By Michael Alexander

The G8 ring of steel was breached last night minutes after US President George W. Bush arrived at Gleneagles.

The incident started at 3.46 pm when a single man walked into a field carrying a cardboard coffin.

It ended with hundreds of anti-capitalist protesters punching a hole through the “ring of steel” security cordon surrounding the Gleneagles resort, and scenes more akin to a war zone as a Chinook helicopter swung in depositing armed police with riot shields, police horses charging towards protesters alongside dog teams, and bloodied demonstrators being chased across fields.

The march up to this point had been peaceful enough, albeit with a strong message. Amid the estimated 3500 marchers there had been a carnival atmosphere interspersed with cries of “No G8, no police state,” “George Bush—terrorist!” and “We’re coming to get you, Georgie Boy!”

As at the peaceful march in Edinburgh last Saturday, there was a sea of colourful placards, fluttering flags, a chorus of whistles and a genuine, passionate desire for a world where people were treated equally and fairly, where the environment was not abused and where big business did not have more power than real people or even some governments.

The march was watched by a number of slightly bemused residents bordering Orchil Road, but all those I spoke to said they were pleased with the good behaviour of the demonstrators, who were of all ages, all backgrounds and from across the country.

One woman told me from her garden, “They’re even handing me their rubbish to dispose of rather than drop it on the road. I’ll be joining the march at the end!”

However the march slowed and tension rose when protesters passed the section of perimeter security fence only around a mile from the hotel, on a bend.

Protesters rattled the fence. On the other side stood five rows of police, backed by a row of mounted officers.

The “Battle of Gleneagles” was to unfold around 50 yards further down the road, however, when a number of protesters veered from the agreed march route and entered a field bordering the security fence.

Included in the march had been a group of London-based Africans, protesting against the five million Congolese they allege have died as a result of genocide in Rwanda. They demanded to know why this was not on the G8 agenda. “Why does no one talk about it?” activist Samy Djunga asked me on the march earlier.

It was one of this group, however—carrying a cardboard child’s coffin to symbolise these deaths—who took the first step in what would become a controversial security incident.

The coffin carrier jumped a small fence bordering the road next to some houses and began wading through a field of crops, the coffin held above his head.

With several hundred yards between him and the outer cordon of the security fence, he was cheered on by the crowds standing on the road, then joined by one or two, but within minutes a stream of hundreds who followed his track across the field and stopped right against the security fence.

Some climbed a tree and waved flags, yards from a sinister-looking line of 14 police horses and riot-armed officers on the other side of the fence.

By 4.10 pm an estimated 1500 people were in the field, making their way to the fence. Among them was the Seattle-based Infernal Noise Brigade, an anti-capitalist band, who put on an impromptu drumming concert in the field. Most protesters stayed on the road to watch.

A man was dancing, holding aloft a US flag—except that instead of stars were skulls and crossbones. Police formed a cordon along the side of the road in a bid to deter people from going into the field.

People continued to flood into the field from further along, however, with one “clown” anarchist shouting to people on the road, “There’s a hole in the fence! Come on!”

The first riot police were seen massing at 4.19 pm, by which time the 1500 or so protesters in the field had gathered around a corner of the outer security cordon.

“I’m really surprised they (the police) have allowed this to happen. Maybe the police really are on our side,” muttered an event steward next to me.

Within 10 minutes, however, the field resembled a battle zone and there were cries of disbelief that this was happening on Scottish soil.

As the police horses on the far side of the cordon mysteriously retreated at 4.30 pm, an RAF Chinook helicopter appeared. It executed two circuits before touching down in the field on the far side of the cordon, yards from demonstrators.

The doors flew open and out poured riot police who ran to the section of fence where the demonstrators were. Two minutes later, police and dogs began running along inside the fence towards the demonstrators.

Another Chinook screamed in and offloaded more police troops, just as an Army Lynx helicopter screamed past, in an atmosphere more like Bosnia than Scotland.

The police horses re-appeared and charged towards protesters. It emerged that part of the security fence had been breached by protesters and, while none seemed to have got inside, riot police had run through the breach and were engaged in running battles, with hundreds of protesters running back across the fields.

At 4.55 pm more than 100 riot police, with riot shields and helmets, marched along the road beside the field and formed a cordon in front of the houses.

Scottish Socialist MSP Carolyn Leckie, on the road, tried to get people to continue along the route. The field was emptying, but a number of protesters stood resolutely at the fence watched by riot police, who had set up a cordon of bodies outside the security fence.

A young man staggered towards me, blood pouring from a head wound. He said riot police “smashed him with a baton” as he stood outside the security fence, albeit in the field.

As he was bandaged by police medics, he told me, “I came here for a peaceful protest and this is how they treat people.”

He said he was Mitch Todd (20), an Auchterarder man who works at the Blackford Highland Spring bottling plant.

“I live and work here. I went up to the fence and the riot police came at me with batons and struck me across the head. They came out the hole in the fence and battered me,” he said, clearly in a state of shock.

The police medic urged him to seek further medical attention.

After the peaceful, spirited scenes earlier, it was not pleasant to see such serious issues as world poverty, debt relief and climate change potentially overshadowed by civil unrest.

Among those rallying before the march were Anne and Kevin Mullen, their son Konor (nine) and daughter Taygen, of Campbeltown.

Anne said she was most concerned about global warming and chose home education for her children as she did not think mainstream schools taught about the real world. She wanted a peaceful march and was angry that protesters, who had voted in world leaders, were “fenced out.”

Ms Leckie said she was angry about the “abuse of resources” being spent on policing.