Funny, this was meant to be a one-shot of the events and feelings going on in the time between when Molly leaves for her second tour to Afghan until she rings on CJ's doorbell in Bath, with just a brief re-cap of the past. But the re-cap swelled out more than planned. Maybe as a sort of therapy, cleansing away the ending of season 4, because I loved to relive earlier and better days – lol. If you are not interested in reliving the past with little change other than my take on Molly's feelings and thoughts added, then you can skip directly to Chapter 4.
Credits to Tony Grounds and BBC for creating the lovely characters and show.
Chapter 1July 2014, Brize Norton airfield
It is the third time I depart from Brize Norton. On the two past occasions, I left UK with mixed feelings and this time is no different in that aspect but the combination of feelings has been shifting every time I go.
The very first time I left from here to Afghanistan was on a grey October day, about nine months ago. Not that long ago really, but it seems like a lifetime has passed and I'm a whole different person. A different Molly Dawes. As I sit here, waiting to board, I replay in my mind what has happened between then and now.
October 2013, in the air towards Afghanistan
When the aircraft catches wind under its wings, I have just met 2 section and Captain James for the first time. I'm filled with anticipation and fear. Anticipation of the adventure ahead and of travelling further away from home than I ever have. Previously I have barely been out of London except during my military training, now I'm destined for another country and I reckon it will be very different. I'm also fearing that I will not cut it as the medic for 2 section, or 'Under fives' as they, we, are called. I just saw in the faces of my fellow squaddies, and even more so in the stern face of the captain, that they would show me no mercy if I do not measure up to their expected standards. Maybe, just maybe, if I'm lucky, Captain James will not execute his threat to lob me out of the plane if I'm not good enough at the job as he claimed he had no reservations of doing, but I know I will never be part of them unless I prove myself. They expect a medic which they feel confident to trust their lives with and it is up to me to gain that trust. I'm scared shitless, but I also feel there is no turning back. No way will I return to my old life in Newham without a fight. I will fight to prove myself. I will fight to make these eleven male privates trust me and make the arrogant schmuck of a captain not look at me like something the cat has dragged in. Aaargh, that imperious look in his eyes alone is challenge enough for me, at the same time as it makes me feel very small and inadequate, seated here in an all-male aircraft without a single friend or ally near. Molly Dawes, what have you gotten yourself into?
July 2014, Brize Norton
The second time I departed from Brize Norton was only five months later but entirely different, with a whole other combination of emotions going on inside of me. Smurf, aka private Dylan Smith, now one of my best mates, and I had been home for fourteen days of leave and I was desperate to get back. So much had happened in Afghan the very last day before we went home to UK, leaving me shaken to the bone. I had not been prepared to leave, but unable to stay. I had tried to process everything that had happened and my bewildering feelings back home and found it impossible. Now I was eager to return, hoping that Afghan and the people there would give me the answers I craved.
October 2013 to March 2014, Afghanistan
In the morning of the day of Surf's and my planned departure from the FOB, we are alerted to that it is alarmingly silent from the mountain check point. After some deliberations we all head there, accompanied by some ANA soldiers lead by Captain Azizi and us under the command of Captain James as usual. In the past months I have learned there is so much more to him than the arrogant officer I first took him for and I would trust him to lead me anywhere. Or almost, at least. And I know that by now he has approved of me - not that I did not have to fight for it. The way to gaining his acceptance was far from straight and I have surprised myself more than once. The first thing I did that changed his opinion of me in the right direction was to save Smurf's life.
-OG-
We were out patrolling on a day like any other, when Smurf was surprised by an insurgent who shot him in the groin and he was lying, bleeding and incapable of moving in the middle of an old mine field where each step was treacherous. I do not know if it was a previously inactive part of my subconscious mind, or my CMT training that kicked in, but I never hesitated to go after him. I knew I was risking my own life and I was frightened, but it did not matter. I was the medic and I could not let him die. I would not have been able to face myself, the rest of 2 section and least of all Captain James if I did. So, I crawled slowly through the mined ground, checking for mines every inch I moved. Naturally, I fucked up anyway and a mine exploded. A deafening sound and pressure wave followed and I passed out for a while. Fortunately, I think it lasted only minutes, then I woke up with sun and dust in my eyes and to my surprise discovered that I was still in one piece. Of course, I had managed to scare the hell out of the others but I had no time to bother with that. The explosion had brought me close to Smurf, but it was no longer possible to get contact with him and I called for an urgent medi vac. Blood was streaming out of the wound and I tried to put pressure on, realizing that the only thing that did the trick was if I put pressure there myself, with my own hands, as bandages or tourniquet alone would not make it. When the helicopter arrived, I never hesitated to go up with him on the winch or he would have bled out. I heard Captain James yelling the order in my ear, not to go. I would be a too easy target, exposing myself with the risk of getting shot if I went up that winch – but for once I had to disobey him, pretended I did not hear. No way would I leave Smurf to his death, I would rather be discharged if that was the consequence.
When I got back to the FOB from the hospital, after learning that Smurf indeed would survive because of my actions, Captain James was waiting for me. He looked fearsome, a stern giant with his arms crossed over his body and I braced myself for what was coming.
"What you did out there was stupid beyond belief, risking your life like that."
"Yes, Sir."
"Tell me, did you hear my order not to go?"
"No, Sir." We both knew that was a big fat lie, but amazingly, he pretended to believe me and gave me a smile – for the first time I think. Told me I had proven myself as an excellent medic. I felt like the sun was shining on me, and then I mean in addition to the ever-basking sun of Afghan. I had managed to get his recognition. It must have been one of the top five moments of my life so far, maybe top three even.
-OG-
The second time I think I managed to impress him, had to do with Bashira. She was an 11-year old Afghan girl I had befriended during our patrols and who had turned out to be an insurgent's daughter. She was not an enemy though, instead of spying for her father she had warned me about an imminent attack. We had entered her home that day, ready to remove her from her father as we thought that her interactions with me might have exposed her to danger. We found the house empty, but soon eyed Bashira out on the little village square. The surface was rapidly emptied when we realized she had been equipped with a suicide west. If you can call it 'suicide' when someone forces you to put it on.
Once again, I did not think, just react by doing what I felt was right and I approached her, feeling I had to do whatever I could to keep her calm so she would not move and accidentally set off the explosives. I could not think of anything but saving her. I know our guys were disturbing any signals to stop triggering of the bomb from a distance but it was very risky nevertheless. I talked to her, where she was standing with tears streaming down her face, wishing I could hug her but that would not have been very clever with the west on. I told her she was my soul-sister and that everything would be all right, that she was the bravest girl I know. I managed to keep her calm, keep her still until a man from the bomb unit came, dressed and moving like a man on the moon, padded and slow, reminded us how exposed Bashira and I were. He managed to carefully take the west of her, scoop her up and run away – and so did I, hearing the bomb go off behind me. As I collected myself, I saw her be swept away on the back of a truck by the Afghan social services, hopefully to a safe place. Then I met the boss' eyes. The expression on his face was difficult to read but he looked a bit like someone inhaling deeply for air after a long dive under water. Unexpectedly, he did not say anything, did not scold me, he looked shaken and in the depth of his eyes I think I saw awe. Maybe. I do not know if it is possible to impress someone as routined as him, but at least it seemed like he thought I had done something good that day.
I do not know if it is only because I have proven myself to him, but over time it is like Captain James has been thawing, from an ice cube to, not boiling, but lukewarm at least. He is still my CO, no doubt about that in my mind, but he also feels like a friend. Or maybe a friendly CO, not to push it too far. He even allows himself to laugh about what I'm saying quite often and I have the feeling he quite likes my company, to the extent a posh twat like him can appreciate a Cockney girl like me.
-OG-
When we arrive to the checkpoint today, we sense from a distance that it is all too quiet and coming closer, we find them all dead. Our ANA allies, some of them so young they must have lied about their age to be allowed to enlist, are all dead. They are the first dead people I have ever seen and it fills me with such complete sadness over the pointlessness of it. Afghans killing other Afghans. Only days ago, we worked and laughed alongside with them. Now the only thing we can do is to confirm they are dead and zip them up in body bags to shield them from the flies that already have gathered to nibble on them. It makes me want to cry and vomit at the same time. I do neither.
Back in the safe zone of the FOB, the sparse shower is far from enough to make me feel clean. The blood, the bullet holes in human flesh, the flies - the feeling is I have them under my skin. In my one-man female quarters tent, I'm drying my wet hair, lost in thoughts, my mind returning again and again to what I witnessed at the CP and wondering if it will be on my retina for the rest of my life. I hear someone clear his throat behind me, turn and find the Bossman standing there. He looks rattled somehow, a bewildered look in his eyes. I do not know what caused it, because it could hardly have been my superiorly hot appearance, dressed as I am in a simple cotton tank top and non-colour-matched shorts. I giggle inside at the impossible thought. I would love for him to see me in something nicer one day, not this or my combats, but I suppose that is unlikely to happen.
"Replacement medic is on her way, you leave in one hour" he informs me. It feels so wrong. I had managed to forget I'm leaving, my focus is so here and now, my London home so distant and surreal. He reads my face, he has become disturbingly good at it and more interested in my feelings than most of my family ever has been.
"What's the matter, Dawes?"
I tell him then, I was thinking of the young dead boys at the CP, and worrying about Bashira. She is now under the protection of the social services - at the cost of being separated from her own family. He father was worse than mine, considering he put a bomb west on her which must count as far worse than being drunk most of the time, but if I had not become involved to begin with - would this have been triggered? I do not think so. It is my fault she is not with her family. Have I really helped her at all, and is she safe?
He frowns, pensively, then calm as always ensures me he is convinced I that I have given her an opportunity she never would have had otherwise. Tells me not to think too much, just do the job I'm bloody good at and we will be home soon. I want to believe him, I do, but it is partly his fault I'm thinking so much – he was the one who told me to engage my brain.
Then, his expression shifts, from the look of an officer concerned about one of his men, or women in this case, to a boyish almost embarrassed one and he tells me he has a request. He looks so much younger with that expression that I almost forget he is a hailed war hero and my captain, he could be someone I would hang out with in a bar instead. Only he is so much more handsome than the guys that use to hang in my local bar.
Some people are into fine dining. Captain James is apparently into fine coffee and he has had his Nespresso machine sent here. Ridiculous thing to do if you ask me. His request is if I would go to a coffee store in London and buy him coffee. First, I think he is joking, but he seriously tells me he is not fully functional without it, only with a hint of a twinkle in his eyes.
To show me he is indeed being serious he grabs my wrist and, kneels beside me where I'm sitting on the bunk and with a pen writes on my bare skin, beautiful writing, almost calligraphy letters. Rosabaya. Such an enchanting name for something as simple as coffee.
"Buy me some Rosabaya coffee capsules and I will adore you for always."
Had it come from someone else's lips, I would have laughed. But coming from him, it is like the words are playing on strings inside me that I didn't even know I had.
"For always, Sir?"
Did I say that out loud? He gives up a small laugh, unlike anything I've heard from him. It cannot possibly be a bit of insecurity in there, or can it? Then he looks down and we both realize that unconsciously our fingers have laced together. I would have expected him to let go instantly, but he surprises me beyond belief when he does not. Instead he strokes my fingers with his thumb, looking like he has never seen or touched a hand before. Like it is a bloody miracle.
"Come back to me" he says.
I manage to word "I will, don't worry."
But I am shaken, more shaken by this than by the events in the morning. My CO, Captain James, who always is professional to the core even when he is goofing around and laughing with us, and who is a man so out of my league I would never expect him to even glance my way except as a commander looking out for his men, is holding my hand, giving me the impression he never wants to let go of it. We sit like that in silence, probably seconds but feels like an eternity, until someone shouts for him outside. He jumps to his feet, looking like he has been abruptly aroused from a dream, makes another comment about the replacement medic, spins around and leaves the tent. Leaves me utterly confused about what just happen, and wondering if it really did happen.
October 2014, Brize Norton
All those things happened the same day that the helicopter came to take me and Smurf to Bastion for further transport to UK. I did not want to leave. All I wanted was to be alone with him again, find out if it had only been a passing fancy, or if there was something more to it. Ask him what that hand-holding had meant to him, hoping he would show me rather than tell me by removing every bit of space between us, take me in his arms like in some silly romantic novel. I was already aware that I had a well-hidden crush on him since months, but that he would ever feel something had been unimaginable until that moment in my tent.
I thought of him almost constantly during the weeks home. What he was doing, what he was thinking, feeling. The remaining time I split between trying to fit in in the normal life of the Dawes family, thinking about Bashira and having flashbacks of the events at the CP. It haunted me in my dreams, it haunted me in daytime, leaving me feeling restless and estranged. I felt like I did not belong anymore. My only solace was when Smurf and I hung out for a few days in both Newport and London, as with him I could talk about everything I could not with my family. Everything except Captain James.