I didn't even realise she had crept up behind me until she was right there. I nearly jumped out of my skin, which could've been made ten times worse if I had dropped the metal detector, or if it had picked up on a buried mine as I trod along the dirty path leading up to the sheet spread in the middle of the road. Our convoy had ground to a halt, and Smurf had called down to us with what he had seen. We were on the home straight to Camp Bastian, but that by no means meant we were off duty. In fact, this was the time we needed to be at our most aware. Our tanks are made from re-enforced steel and metal, but they aren't a safeguard from incendiary devices, bombs or bullets. As we drive through Afghanistan, we are a mobile target - like sitting ducks.
I should have expected this from Dawes. During our time spent together, I had learnt that she was an arrogant, cocky, delinquent young woman who had a hard time taking orders without returning with a tongue in cheek comment. She was downright precocious, and as much to my chagrin as well as my surprise, I had found myself falling for her. Her ability, strength and perseverence was admirable, she hadn't come from the best family background from what she had told me. Her officers from basic training hadn't given her the best report, but I saw that as a challenge. But Dawes had shone since arriving in the field, and I had seen that glimmer of hope from the basic training at Brize Norton.
Rumors flying around 2 section were that Smurf and Dawes had spent their deployment together. She had travelled from East London to Newport, and then she had taken Smurf back to London where they had stayed with her parents. I don't know when it happened, all I know is when they returned to camp, I had seen them walk through the tall gates and the excitement I had been feeling for days in anticipation of Dawes' return quickly disappated as the boys from the section hollered and whooped that Smurf had left a boy, and returned a man.
This isn't my first tour of active duty. This is my fourth. I have had many platoons - all of whom have had a woman medic on the squadron and I've managed to evade feelings of a romantic nature with all of them. But this one, this Molly Dawes, she had infilitrated my mind. I'd even gone so far as to give myself blisters just so we could spend some time in the privacy of the medical tent. Brief conversations here and there had meant everything, and we had both quickly realised there was chemistry there. When Dawes was sent flying from the mine after Smurf had suspected Bashira of spying on our troops, my mouth had tasted like copper. Those minutes she didn't respond, when all she could hear was white noise and all she could see was the sun blazing down from the sky into her eyes - they were the longest two minutes of my life.
"I never thought you would look at someone like me. I thought you were out of my league," She had uttered, as we tentatively stepped forward. My knuckles tightened around the metal detector as I continue trying to find a clear path to the obstacle in the road. "I'm fond of you, sir. And I wanted to tell incase we get to that sheet and someone detonates it and we're blown to smithereens."
I peer at her over my shoulder and quickly turn my head. I'm well aware we're on radio, and the boys of 2 section are listening to this. This whole conversation blurs the lines between combat medic and the captain. This isn't the place or the time, though I am overjoyed to hear her say those words.
"Love's stronger than army regulations," she says, and I quickly remember that I am her captain. I have to maintain the hierarchy that is required of the British Army.
"Nothing is stronger than army regulations," I reply, continuing to move forward. My head is spinning, and I am trying to focus on what could be buried beneath our feet at this instant, and what is under that sheet. For all we know, there's a group of militant rebels waiting for us, snaring a trap. We could be surrounded by snipers, as part of an ambush plan. And yet, my brain is clouding over with thoughts of Dawes. This isn't the time, nor the place.
"Do you love me?" She asks, the pain in her voice evident, and I have to turn around to look at her. Even as her captain, I am not heartless. I'm not emotionless, and as the inflection in her voice cracks upon the word love, I want nothing more than to turn around and tell her that yes, I do love her. I do love you, Molly Dawes. I've been in love with you since we left Brize Norton, when you broke into laughter as we stood in uniformed lines to take our platoon picture. It's been you this entire way along, and when we get back to Brize Norton, I plan on getting on one knee and asking you to marry me. This is against all protocol, and for once in my life, I don't care. This love is born of army regulations, and that can only be the strongest kind of love.