Molly smiled as the whirring rotors reached a peak and the Chinook went airborne. She always felt little stab of exhilaration when they lifted off on a new mission. Even that persistent nugget of doubt she'd cherished seemed to fade as they cleared the swirling dust of Camp Bastion and accelerated over Highway One towards the Helmand River.

The Private sitting opposite her grinned and gave her a thumbs-up. He seemed all right. Looking at the rest of the platoon, she could see from their sunburned faces and dust-raked uniforms that these men had already been on tour for a few months. Good. If things went pear shaped, she wanted some reliable soldiers around.

They were on their way to Kajazi, a small town on the other side of the Helmand, where a platoon of Brits had been forced to retreat to the administrative centre after the Taliban took over the surrounding buildings.

When she'd first heard about the mission, she'd hesitated, but Captain Newlish, her new, young CO had reassured her: "You'll only be there for a short time while we recapture the town. A couple of weeks at best." He sounded pretty certain it was a done deal.

But listening to the boys' banter as they loaded the Chinook, it seemed this operation was no cert. It sounded more like it was turning into a siege.

Molly looked out of her window to a town they were approaching. She wondered if it was anywhere near the Boss's FOB? He was out here in Musa Qala somewhere, but because of secrecy, and mainly because it was Charles, he'd refused to divulge where. Bloody typical of him!

She was just wondering why she couldn't see any jingly trucks or locals in the market when one of the boys shouted: "Look out! They've got an RPG!"

There was ping above her and the Chinook wobbled. Automatically she lowered her head. She could hear something wrong with the rotor. Christ! The pilot was fighting with the controls. If they went down in this village, even if they survived the crash, it'd probably be curtains!

"Keep right! Keep right! KEEP RIGHT!" she heard someone yelling, again and again, as the helicopter lurched downwards. Some pages from a notebook flapped noisily past her head and something hit her hard on the arm. There was more shouting from the cockpit and she heard a crump of fire in the distance. And just as she began to think it was going to be the end, they bumped to the ground and she landed on the floor, banging her head on one of the boys' knees.

There was a silence as everyone worked out if they were all right.

"He made it!" shouted Newlish. A cheer went up and she realised the pilot had managed to get them into the administrative centre and avoid landing amongst the enemy in the town.

Above her the squaddie gave her a playful shove. "You all right medic?" He grinned at the other boys: "Or would you like to stay down there with your head between my legs, darlin'?"

"Fuck off you toss pot," she muttered as she grabbed her Bergen and jumped out of the door. The midday light outside was blinding. She felt stunned by the attack and furious with the squaddie.

Looking around, she saw they were in a dusty civic square, enclosed by low, mud brick buildings. Scanning the rooftops she noticed several men crouching low, manning fixed gun positions, their weapons pointing down into the town.

She tried to push away a creeping feeling of unease.

"Did you take a hit?" A sergeant she didn't recognise raced over to the pilot who was inspecting the helicopter. "We've got a group to get out of here".

"Are you okay? Is that painful?" Molly looked up, surprised to hear a female voice. It was a medic, a Corporal she hadn't met before. The Corporal gestured towards her arm. Molly looked down to see it was bleeding. She stared at it for a moment, confused, yet suddenly aware of pain.

Then behind her someone yelled: "Dawsey! What are you doing here?" Fingers pulled her into a big bear hug and Brains yelled: "Fuck! Am I glad to see you! Did you bring us any biscuits?"

Molly struggled to get out of their arms. Two section must be here! And that meant the Boss was too!

"Fingers, Brains, what the fuck are you playing at?"

She'd recognise that voice anywhere.

"Put that medic down! Do you want to stay in this hellhole? We're supposed to be getting on that helicopter and flying out of here!"

Molly looked past Brains' ear to see the Boss marching towards them. He was even leaner now after months on tour and she realised she'd forgotten how tall he was. He pulled off his headset angrily and she saw his curly hair was swirled with dust. He looked furious and… damn sexy.

Fingers let Molly go. "Sorry Boss," he said cheekily, not sounding sorry at all. "But look who's here. Your favourite old pop tart, the medic Dawsey!"

Molly bit back an impulse to laugh: "Less of the old, thanks Fingers. I'm only 26."

The Boss stared at her for a moment, looking thunderous: "You're not supposed to be here. I told them it wasn't a suitable place for females."

Molly didn't know how to react. Christ this man was supposed to be her boyfriend. "Nice to see you too, Sir," she said quietly.

"That's a bit sexist, isn't it, Sir?" piped up the other female medic.

The Boss whirled round to rebuke her: "It's because this posting has become a siege. It's too bloody dangerous. There's nowhere suitable to sleep or wash and it's so difficult to defend, the Taliban could overrun it at any moment." His voice hardened. "I don't need to spell it out, do I Lane?"

Molly looked from Charles to the medic standing next to her. So this woman was Georgie Lane, the gorgeous medic that Charles had bagged after she had had to move to another platoon. All summer she'd listened to a flurry of gossip at Bastion about how "Charles requested Lane personally", how "bloody good they look together" and "how well they get on". In the beginning she'd felt able to shrug it off, relieved the relationship with Charles had gone under the radar. But as summer wore on, the relentless heat and enforced restrictions at Bastion sapped her confidence and there were nights when she would lie awake steeped in doubt.

And now all she could think as she looked at Lane's perfectly painted brows was: 'She is gorgeous, but fuck me, all that make up on out here in an Afghan village?'

Molly knew she was being unreasonable. She shouldn't criticise Lane on the basis of looks. She'd hate it if any of the other girls judged her by anything but her soldiering.

"No Sir, you don't need to spell our situation out," Lane responded. "It's just that…" she hesitated as the Pilot marched around the Chinook.

"Those Taliban fuckers have severed my bloody rotor, the pilot shouted in fury."

Charles spun round: "Are you able to get out Flight Lieutenant?"

"Not a sodding chance, Captain. For one, this Chinook won't fly until I get spares and, second, I don't think an RPG did that. Look at the damage here. He pointed to a twisted, burnt section of the rotor blade. Only a SAM could do that."

Charles sighed. He turned to his men: "Right, two section, square your kit away. It looks as if we'll be staying here for a bit longer."

There was an almost palpable sense of disappointment. As two section walked away Dawes could hear Fingers groaning: "Fuck me, we'll never get out of this shit hole."

"Yeah," grumbled Brains: "And once those Taliban wankers realise we've got a Chinook in here they're going to step up their attacks for sure."

"And we don't even have enough bloody food as it is. Now there'll be extra mouths to feed.

The Boss turned back to look at Molly's arm. He was tight-lipped with fury.

And Molly was beginning to feel pretty anxious. So far he hadn't acknowledged her at all.

"Lane, it looks like you've got a casualty to deal with."

"Yes boss."

"And while you're about it, please find a suitable space for Dawes to settle into?"

Lane nodded and picked up Molly's Bergen.

Molly pulled it back: "I don't need any help, thanks Corporal!"

Lane turned back in surprise: "It's Dawes isn't it? Don't get the wrong idea, Private. I was only thinking of your arm."

Tense, suspicious of each other, the two girls started walking towards the makeshift med centre.

For the briefest second Charles allowed himself to watch them go. Then he turned to Dawes' CO, who was supervising his men unloading supplies from the helicopter.

Captain James said quietly: "I don't suppose you've brought any water with you, Captain Newlish? We're desperately low on supplies."

This story started out as a one shot challenge, which was originally published with the Miniaturists. I failed the challenge completely, as I couldn't stop writing, which many reviewers noticed at the time! So here is the first chapter again and I've divided the rest into chapters which I'll post from time to time.