Hi! Since 'A Different Mission' is wrapping up, I thought I get this one going. I hope you like it! It's a little more light-hearted then my other stories; although I do like drama and a good cliff hanger, so I'm there will be some twist to come! I have another idea that I've already been working on, which has quite a dark theme so thought this one would balance it out a bit.

Enjoy

Bailey's Story

Captain Charles James sat outside Major Beck's office waiting to be called in. On the outside, he looked every inch of the calm and collective officer that everyone knew but inside his mind was frantically, trying to work out why he had been summoned.

Then somewhere down the corridor a door slammed shut causing his heart to jump into his throat and suddenly he transported back 3 weeks to Afghanistan.

"Everyone take cover!"

"Hold your fire! Hold your fire!"

"Man down! Man down!"

"Smith, can you hear me?!"

After getting no reply, Charles assessed the situation. He could see the rest of his section all in the ditch with him except Geraint Smith who unfortunately hadn't been able to take cover quickly enough. He was now led, face down, unmoving about 200 metres in front of them but with enemy bullets still being fired in their direction they were stuck.

"Back up is on their way, boss but it's going to take a while…" Corporal Maxwell reported.

Charles cursed quietly and inched up slightly to get a better look only to duck back down quickly when a bullet flew past his ear.

"Shit!" He took a couple of deep steady breaths.

His section was all silently looking towards him; their mate was out there and they needed him to make a decision on what to do next.

"Right, you lot stay here…" He told them all. "Whatever happens, you wait for back up.

Do you understand me?"

"Boss?"

"Just stay here…do not leave this ditch until the area is secure." He stated and then looked at his Corporal. "Maxwell, get back on the radio and make sure they're aware we're going to need to medi-vac Smith…"

Michael Maxwell nodded. "What are you going to do, Boss?"

"I'm going to get Smith."

"But Sir…"

"Just make sure no one leaves this ditch."

"Sir, I'll go…" Private Harry Peters claimed. "I'm the medic…"

"No way!" Charles shook his head and then moved to get into position.

"Sir, I really think we should…"

"You all wait out here." He cut in. "That's an order!"

Everyone fell silent and held their breath as they watched their Captain climb out of the ditch and started to move towards their injured mate.

Charles could hear his own heart pounding loudly as he crawled across through dirt, dust and rocks. It seemed to take forever but when he finally reached Geraint, he knew he couldn't waste any time. Enemy bullets were still being fired in his direction so he grabbed hold of the private's collar and started to make his way back. He was actually pleased to hear Geraint groaning in pain as he dragged him along.

"Sorry, mate…" Charles said to him. "But they're trying to bloody kill us…and I'm not leaving you out here for them."

When he finally reached the rest of his section, he pushed Geraint ahead of him and helped Maxwell and Peters get him into the ditch before jumping down himself.

He leaned back against the mud wall, breathing heavily and watched the medic working on Smith.

"How is he?" He asked once he had his breathing under control.

"He's been hit twice, one in the neck and to the side…" Peters glanced over his shoulder towards his captain. "I can't stop the bleeding, Sir… We need to get him out of here!"

"Maxwell, get back on the radio…"

"You're bleeding…" Maxwell was immediately by his side.

"What?"

"You're hurt, sir….Medic, we need you here!"

"I'm fine…he needs to stay with Smith…" Charles started to protest but Harry was already in front of him along with the med Burgan.

"There's not much for I can do for him out here, boss…" Harry started to examine his right arm, which was bleeding heavily. "He'll be okay for a second while I get you sorted…"

"It's nothing…." Charles went to pull his arm away but a sharp pain travelled down from his shoulder.

"Looks like you've been hit in the upper arm, boss…doesn't look too bad…I'll put a tourniquet on until we get back to base…"

"Maxwell can do that…you go back to Smith." Charles ordered.

Harry glanced at his Corporal before doing as he was told.

"Where's the bloody support!" Charles muttered with gritted teeth as Maxwell tightened the tourniquet around his upper arm but his eyes were firmly fixed on Geraint Smith who was still lying motionlessly.

"They should be here any second, sir…"

Before Maxwell finish the sentence there was a sudden roar above them, followed by a loud explosion as the fighter jet disappeared from sight as quickly as it came.

"Charles?"

His head snapped up as he was brought back to the present and saw Major Beck stood in the doorway.

"Sorry to keep you waiting…" Beck nodded his head in the direction the office. "Come on in…"

"Sir." Charles replied as he stood up.

"How's that arm?" Beck asked, moving to sit down behind his desk and gestured for Charles to take a seat too.

"It's getting there, Sir…" Charles answered. "My surgeon doesn't think there will be any lasting damage…he wants to see me again in 6 weeks but as long as I keep up with my physio I should be good to return back to the platoon."

"Good, good." Beck leaned back in his chair. "And that is what you want?"

"Of course, Sir." Charles frowned a little at the suggestion that it might not be.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it." Beck smiled. "So, how was the funeral? In Newport, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Sir…Obviously it was a tough day…Private Smith has a twin brother who is due to start basic training in the few months… His mother had raised them on her own." Charles told him. "It was hard on the lads too, for most of them it was the first time they lost someone from their section."

"And you?" Beck questioned. "How are you doing with it all?"

Charles opened his mouth to reply but stopped himself; his mind already trying to work out where Beck was going with this conversation.

"It wasn't a trick question, Charles." Beck laughed a little. "I just want to check how you are after what happened."

"I'm doing fine, Sir…" Charles claimed. "A bit bored not working…"

"Well, I might have a solution for that."

"Sir?"

"I've spoken with your doctors and they've agreed that while you're not fit to return to the front line, there is an 8 week position that I really think you should consider." Beck reached into a draw and pulled out a personnel folder. "I believe you know a Lieutenant Colonel Mark Venn."

"He was my captain when I was at Sandhurst." Charles answered; it had been a number of years since Charles had seen him but the then Captain Venn had been a great mentor to him.

"Well, he has an opening and we think you would be perfect for it." Beck told him. "Like I said, its 8 weeks and afterwards you'll be able to return to your combat role."

"What would it involve, Sir?" Charles asked curiously, there was something about the look on Becks' face that was warning him to be cautious about the offer.

"Training and mentoring, mainly." Beck stated, lightly. "There are some members of his platoon that he needs help reining in and straightening out before they're sent overseas."

Charles frowned. "I wouldn't have thought Lieutenant Colonel Venn had any problem handling that…"

"Oh, he's perfectly capable but we feel you'll benefit from the chance to step into the role." Beck picked up the folder, looking through it for a few seconds. "He would particularly like you to work closely with Bailey…"

Charles kept his mouth shut as he listened to his CO; it was all sounding quite promising and could result in a big help to his career but he still couldn't help be a little wary.

"He's a good lad…young and eager." Beck continued. "However, he is distracted very easily and is always finding himself in mischief… "

Charles almost rolled his eyes; that pretty much describe most of the lads in the British Army.

"You might have your work cut out with this one…" Beck chuckled as he took one last look at the file before holding it towards Charles. "Apparently, he has an obsession with vegetables, playing catch and drinking out of the toilet…"

"I'm sure I'll be…." Charles started as he reached for the folder but then his head snapped up in surprise as the words Beck actually said registered with him. "What?"

Beck just smirked and nodded to the file, causing Charles to open it quickly. Instead of seeing a photograph of some cocksure teenager staring up at him, there was a black and tan German Shepard with his ears perked up and his head tilted to the side.

"Were you not aware Lieutenant Colonel Venn is now with the 1st Military Working Dog Regiment?" Beck questioned innocently.

TBC

CJ with a dog…what could be better?! Please review!