By Ceri Jackson BBC Wales News website

Jane Collier attends to a man who overdosed on unspecified drugs In Pictures: Red Hot Chili Peppers

The Red Hot Chili Peppers are walking the 100-or-so yards from their VIP suites to the stage and I'm standing just yards away.

And I ask you, who wouldn't think to themselves "Whe-hey, this'll be one for the photo album"?

The expectant roar of a 65,000-strong crowd was barely audible as an angry head of security marched toward me.

"I won't tell you again" Put the camera away... I saw you take a picture of James Brown and you're not taking anymore. Is it digital? I'll take the chip card out... I'm warning you... p-u-t i-t d-o-w-n..."

I felt like a cross between Avid Merrion and an armed robber laying down his semi-automatic in the full glare of the LAPD. My hands held up in surrender, I was careful not to make any sharp movements as I maintained submissive eye contact and gently laid the camera on the floor.

I dared to flinch my gaze and there he was. Anthony Kiedis - all shiny-hair and school-boy style outfit (AC/DC eat your heart out) striding past.

What all the fuss was about - RHCP's Anthony Kiedis

With Kiedis out of photographic harm's way and safely on stage, the head of security's glare broke into a forgiving smile and his burly colleagues looked over and slapped their wrists good humouredly.

I shrugged and pretended to look for things in the pockets of my fluorescent jacket. Ah yes, the fluorescent jacket. You see the whole reason for my privileged position backstage was to observe the saviours of those who come a cropper after they've burrowed their way to the front row - St John Ambulance.

They first came to my attention many, many years ago when they came to the rescue of a tearful friend of mine who'd got a bit carried away and lost her espadrilles at a Smiths concert at Cardiff University and was faced with the prospect of walking home to Rhiwbina bare foot.

This year at Donington, I once again found myself marvelling at their patience as they wiped the mouth of a nauseous 30-something goth who'd had one too many Strongbows during Slipknot and was beached on a grassy bank.

The calm before the storm: the main first aid post

I was intrigued by their motivation. What made them give up hours of free time to train in first aid? And then give up even more free time to attend to the thankless task of mopping up the fallout of over-exuberance at every conceivable public event?

So, eager to find out, there I was backstage at what the volunteers call the 'bubble tent' - aka the moshers' retreat - one of umpteen treatment rooms dotted around the stadium.

I'd arrived hours earlier and reported to the main base - a fully-fledged casualty unit replete with defibrillators, emergency doctors, rows of beds, screens, radio control etc, etc.

Even before supporting act James Brown had got-on-up to the stage it was reminiscent of Holby City.

There were suspected overdoses and countless others poleaxed by alcohol - and still they kept on being wheeled through the swing doors.

And that was just a trickle of what would become a deluge of casualties. In total the volunteers treated 121 cases - epilepsy, overdoses, drunkenness, dizziness, panic attacks, anxiety, sprains, bruises, cuts as well as five fairly serious assaults (fights).

A father from Swansea bought his son to see his favourite band only to have some drunk fall on him, sending him hurtling headfirst down two rows of seats. I watched as he was lifted into an ambulance with a suspected spinal injury as his worried son stood by.

A man in his 40s is stretchered away with a suspected spinal injury

Then there was a teenager following closely behind him - dispatched to hospital with suspected kidney damage after being trampled in the crowd.

It was mayhem. But according to Angela O'Sullivan, as rock concerts go this was relatively tame. "This is nothing compared to Bon Jovi or the Sterephonics," she said.

Angela from Aberdare has been with St John Ambulance for the past 42 years. Now you wouldn't catch Angela skulking around with a camera trying to get a snapshot of Anthony Kiedis. Listen to this...

"A couple of years ago, I was working here at a concert and stayed behind throughout the early hours on standby in case one of the guys taking down the stage got hurt," she told me.

"I was sat by here having a coffee and this scruffy guy in jeans and a t-shirt wanders over, sits down and starts chatting.

"I'm being polite, passing the time with him. After a while I said I'd better get on with some work. Then, a few minutes later someone comes up to me and says 'where did Jon Bon Jovi go?'. I said 'who?'. And they said 'the guy sat chatting to you'.

Angela in the backstage tent attending to front row casualties

"Someone explained to me later who he was. I don't see what all the fuss is about. Me, I like Cliff Richard."

Angela had been to-and-fro the stadium since Monday when the roadies first began assembling the stage.

She eventually got through the door of her home at around nine this morning - having stayed overnight in case the same roadies dismantling the set got injured.

Tonight, she'll begin a night shift caring for terminally-ill patients. Life on the road doesn't come much tougher than that.

"It's just about giving something back," explained Jane Collier, a ward sister by day who joined St John Ambulance through her father who volunteered in the mines rescue.

Last night she was running the main casualty unit with husband Rod. They met through St John Ambulance and have notched up 85 years of volunteering between them.

Jon Bon who? The front man failed to work his magic on Angela

"We have the skills, things we are good at and we like to give our time back to the general public. It's all part of being in a caring profession.

"I always think as I'm treating someone who's drunk too much or taken drugs, that they're someone's children and they need looking after."

Maybe I too could become that altruistic and the thought of joining up as a volunteer flashed through my mind.

But if I'm honest, I don't really think the prospect of finding myself having a post-concert coffee with Jon Bon Jovi is the best of motives.

Not for the first time in my life, I pondered the inescapable fact that there are simply some people with infinitely higher minds than my own. And for all the 100-strong St John Ambulance team at the stadium last night there remains only one thing to be said: "For those about to rock... We salute you."