I have been fortunate enough to read the accounts of a Commanding Officer who was stationed at Camp Bastion during Op Herrick 19. He served there from October 2013 to June 2014, the same time that Molly and the rest of the Under 5's were in Afghanistan. It's with his record in mind - and a little artistic license - that I have written this short story. I appreciate that 2 Section were based at the FOB over New Year, but let's just pretend that they were at Bastion as well. Happy New Year everyone x
"Whilst we look forward to the New Year, may I remind you all that this is no fresh start. Our enemy is determined and resolute; they will not back down. We will continue with our mission to disrupt the insurgent networks. They will not win." Major Beck was pacing the ops tent, something clearly on his mind. He looked at Captain James, standing tall in the corner, visibly lost in his own thoughts.
"Yes," Captain James agreed, his mind re-joining his body. "Going into the New Year we will be focussing on closing our Forward Operating Bases and retrieving people and equipment. The withdrawal may have begun, but the fight is not over yet. I am relying on each and every one of you to commit one hundred percent."
"Yes, Sir," the platoon called in unison.
"Now we have a little treat for you tonight," Captain James' face broke into a smile, his eyes lighting up as his cheeks twinged. Molly watched on, her knees trembling. His voice alone was enough to make her insides melt, but when he started to smile, she couldn't even think straight.
"We'll see you at 2300 hours."
The platoon stood to attention as Major Beck and Captain James walked out, before turning to one another to share their theories about what had been planned. It was clearly a New Year surprise, but nobody knew what. As they began to file out, they all remained deep in conversation.
"I reckon it's a singer, like someone proper famous," suggested Baz.
"Nah, mate. It's gonna be a TV crew," shouted Mansfield. "I worked it all out right, cos they always have people filming different parts of the world as they see in New Year."
"Ha, as if!" Dangles' scoffed. "They came during Herrick 17; saw it all over the news. Reckon that put 'em off for a lifetime!"
Molly left the boys to it, and made her way across the base. It had started raining over the last couple of days, bringing some refreshment from the otherwise unrelenting heat. Soldiers were hastily moving around, all desperate to get from a to b as quickly as possible. She was in no such rush, easing her head backwards to enjoy the cool water on her face.
"Dawes," Captain James called from the steps of his private quarters. "Come here."
She had a quick glance around, but everyone was far too busy to notice her as she made her way over. It was the first time that she'd been inside his cabin and there was no denying that she was slightly taken aback by it. It was far more comfortable than the tent she shared with the rest of 2 Section. The bed was neatly made, barely slept in by all appearances. The furniture and floors so perfectly clean that she realised how little time he had spent in there.
"Sir?" She asked, holding back.
"Relax, Dawes." He sat himself down on the edge of his bed, gesturing for her to take a seat beside him. "I need your help tonight."
"Boss?" She looked at him with curiosity, but he remained silent, rubbing his hand across his forehead. "I can tell there's something you want to say, but you're not supposed to."
"You have no idea, Dawes." He lifted his gaze, looking her directly in the eyes. For a perfectly still moment, they remained like that, taking each other in. "Unfortunately that's a conversation best saved for Brize Norton."
Molly knew what he meant. This wasn't the first time they'd been alone, or the first time he'd hinted at his growing feelings for her. But they both understood their position and knew what the regulations were. It had to be this way, regardless of what they wanted. She relaxed her arm down, rubbing past his hand as she did so. Captain James turned to her, his forehead creases deepening. For a brief moment Molly thought – hoped – he was about to kiss her; but instead, he stood up, grabbing a pen from his desk to busy himself.
"I need you to meet me at the hangar at 2230."
"Boss?"
"You should go now, Dawes, double away."
"Yes, Sir." Molly stood up, leaving his quarters without a second glance. She hated those moments when he remembered who they were and where they were, and he snapped back into Captain Mode. She couldn't do it quite so easily, and it always left her feeling hurt. It was as though he was a building a wall between them and shutting her out. She craved those brief moments when he would let her in again, but they were few and far between.
She made her way to the gym, desperate for a distraction. She knew she was hungry - her stomach was reminding her often enough - but she couldn't face eating. Instead, she grabbed the free skipping rope, spinning it around in her arms so fast that her legs couldn't keep up. She tripped, her legs flying out from underneath of her, leaving her in a heap on the ground.
"Molls?" Smurf ran over, helping her to her feet. "Can't have our medic injured now, can we?"
"It's all gone to shit, Smurf."
She dusted herself off, brushing the Afghan sand from her trousers. Tears were slowly trickling down her cheeks, but she didn't care. Limping on one leg, she made her way over to the nearby bench and sat herself down. She knew she needed to pull herself together, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so.
"Everything changes from tomorrow," Smurf said, placing an arm around Molly's shoulders, which she promptly shrugged off. "Like the boss man said, we've begun withdrawing."
Molly couldn't think about Captain James right now. She lifted her trouser leg to inspect the knee she'd fallen on, finding nothing more than the beginnings of a bruise. She turned to Smurf who was watching her intently. He'd been acting strangely ever since he'd returned from the hospital a few weeks previously. He said it was because he owed her for saving his life, but she suspected it was more than that.
"So come on then, what do you reckons happening tonight?"
"Ah, now that would be telling, Dawesy. Come on, I'll get Jackie to check you out."
"I'm perfectly capable of doing that myself, Smurf."
She stormed out, making her way to the mess tent. Qaseem was sat at a table to one side, scribbling away in a tiny notepad. He was forever writing, but she had no idea what. Deciding to avoid the ruck, she took a seat beside him, leaning forward and resting her head in her hands.
"Molly Dawes," he sighed, putting his notepad down and turning to her. "In Afghanistan our Nowruz is in March, the first day of spring. We consider it a symbol of hope and new life; a chance to start over. You may celebrate New Year at the end of December, but surely the meaning is the same? So whatever is on your mind now should not be with you tomorrow."
"That's the whole point of resolutions, Qaseem."
"Do you stick to those?"
Molly bowed her head, knowing the answer. Nobody ever stuck to New Year's resolutions. She shrugged her shoulders half-heartedly in response.
"Do you know what's going on tonight? The boss wants me to help him with summit at 2230 and I ain't got a clue."
"I know," he took her hand in his. "You will have fun. It's time to forget your worries and move on." He stood up and wandered away, leaving her alone once again. Qaseem was right; she needed to clear her mind of all the thoughts that were bringing her down. That started with Captain James.
