I don't own Our Girl. All rights belong to Tony Grounds and the BBC.


Missed me?

"Shit!" Corporal Paul Rogers, also known to a select number of fellow NCOs but never to the soldiers under his command, unless they wanted to see lots of latrine duty in their future, as Dangleberries, looked down the ravine at the wrecked Land Rover half submerged in the raging torrent. Well, this was a complete clusterfuck!

They had only been deployed in Sierra Leone for three days and it was already a complete mess. The British Army had reacted to a massive humanitarian emergency when the West African country, still struggling to come to terms with the mammoth Ebola outbreak nearly three years ago, had succumbed to one of the worst wet seasons ever recorded. The Government had asked the Armed Forces to send some support and they had responded by sending a 600 man mission including helicopters, medical personnel and several companies of soldiers to spread out through the country and support the medics.

Unfortunately nobody had quite sussed out that one of the things you couldn't do in heavy storms, was operate helicopters. The other thing that clearly hadn't been anticipated was that heavy and thundery rainstorms tend to disrupt radio communications and fell telephone lines. And another thing was that tracked vehicles beat wheeled vehicles on unsafe ground. As a result, Dangles' understrength platoon was driving upcountry on some of the worst roads and tracks he'd ever travelled on, in 4x4s and trucks that were clearly inadequate for the task, to try and reach one of the most important medical centres which was in the north of the country. To be fair, it had been fine on the main road, but since they had come off, it was really ropey.

A small group of British army medics had managed to get to the med centre by chopper two days ago before the weather had closed in, but radioed back that the centre was inundated with casualties and that medical supplies were short, and asked for urgent re-supply and additional personnel. Since then no helicopter resupply had been possible and there had been no further radio contact as the weather closed in. HQ had ordered Dangles' CO to take two sections and drive there.

Unfortunately Dangles' CO, an arrogant and spiky lieutenant who had never heard a gun fired in anger and was a far cry from most of the Afghanistan veteran officers that Dangles had served with, reckoned he was Lewis Hamilton and, instead of letting the experienced driver take control of their 4x4, had insisted on driving himself. He had promptly driven over the washed-away bridge section way too fast to brake in the conditions and managed to wreck his vehicle and himself. Even more serious was that Sergeant White had been in the vehicle with him, and the sergeant was an experienced Afghanistan combat veteran who really did know his stuff and was an excellent NCO and platoon sergeant. In addition, their only combat medic, Jeff Smith, was also in that vehicle. While they had managed to get all the men and the displaced driver out of the wrecked Land Rover, they were all in a bad way and needed urgent medical attention.

And that left Dangles in command, by date of rank, and in a real pickle. There was no contact with base because the radios were fucked. The last communication they'd had was that the bridge they'd come over 10km down the road was breaking up, so they were trapped here, and there was no helicopter support and three badly injured men. He stood staring at the wrecked Land Rover while the rain (at least it was warm, not cold) drove against him and dripped off his helmet and down his neck, wondering what to do.

He was aware of another vehicle pulling up next to the platoon's truck. He looked briefly over his shoulder and saw a Toyota Land Cruiser with "International Red Cross" and the famous painted red cross on the doors. At least the NGOs got good equipment, he mused, jogging over to the new arrivals. Probably because they were here all the time and knew what worked. The Land Cruiser was masses better than the Land Rover for this sort of terrain. A man got out wearing waterproof khaki trousers, hiking boots and a blue Gore tex waterproof, also marked with a red cross on the back. He pulled up his hood to protect him from the rain and spoke to the soldier by the truck, who gestured to Dangleberries, and then walked over to him.

"Corporal Paul Rogers, 2nd Battalion, Royal Anglian Regiment" Dangles introduced himself, saluting, a little bit surprised when the man seemed to jerk back. "I'm really glad you're here. Do you have any medics? We have three seriously injured men."

He was even more surprised when the man asked, "Paul Rogers? Also known as Dangleberries?"

"Well, yes," he replied hesitantly and was absolutely shocked when the man replied, "Bloody Hell, standards must be slipping in the Army if they made you a Corporal! It's a good thing I left!" He stripped back his hood to reveal a face that Dangleberries hadn't seen in a long time, but one that he had never been more happy to see.

"Boss? Captain James? God, what are you doing here? It's so good to see you" he spluttered out.

"It's just Mr James now, Dangles. I'm Head of Disaster Emergency Relief for the International Red Cross. It keeps me out in the field and doing worthwhile things. But let's catch up later. You said you had injured men?"

- OG - OG - OG - OG -

Captain James, no "Charles", as he had instructed Dangles to call him, listened to the report from the Red Cross doctor, who he had briefly introduced as Francois, and turned to face him. "It's not looking good for your lieutenant or the sergeant I'm afraid. Francois says that if we can't get them to medical attention PDQ they could die."

Dangles considered that but came up with no answers, "but what can we do? With the bridges down there's nowhere we can get them in time and if we try to carry them up into the hills surely the trauma will kill them?"

Charles replied, "There's a big iron ore mine a few kilometres back up the road. We've been staging out of there. They have a good medical centre and established communications. We'll take your injured back there and you can check in with higher and get fresh orders."

Dangles was stunned and Charles look at him in shock, "You didn't know? What kind of intelligence and logistics support structure have you got? That's crap! They've even got a railway which would have saved your suspension quite a bit. I mean I assume you've driven all the way from Freetown?" Dangles could only shake his head and Charles continued, "Come on, let's get these guys out of here and up to the mine."

Later, at the mine, Dangles was able to contact HQ in Freetown and speak to the Major, who listened to his report and said he would get back once he consulted with higher. As good as his word the Major was back within 20 minutes with a lieutenant colonel who introduced himself as Beck. Dangles wondered if it could be the same Beck who had been their major in the Under Fives. The colonel requested that Charles be summoned and when Charles came in and had the situation explained, he introduced himself as Roger Beck. Charles grinned, and confirmed Dangles' suspicion by exclaiming, "If I'd known it was going to be old comrades week sir I would have brought a bottle! First Corporal Rogers, and then you!" to which the Colonel replied, "Well let's share one when we get this all wrapped up." Then he was all business, "Charles, I'm sorry to ask this of you, but I believe our team and your team are going to the same place. We can't get any command level officers out to you until the weather improves but the hospital needs medical supplies urgently. Would you consent for us to recall you to active duty for the duration of this current emergency until we can get a command officer up to relieve you? Then you can command both teams. We understand that you have an important role for the Red Cross and we certainly wouldn't want to interfere with that, but we need an officer to command the team as we have only relatively junior NCOs."

Charles seemed to think it over for a moment, and then agreed, but "only for a few days sir and you'll have to deal with the fact I don't have my uniform!" They discussed logistics for a few minutes and then the Colonel asked if Dangles heard and please to confirm that Major James had taken over as his senior officer. Dangles was happy to confirm and they signed off.

"So Dangles, it looks like it's back to "Major" for the time being!" observed Charles, "we should probably go and tell the men."

Dangles asked Corporal Turner to call the two sections together and brought them to attention in the mine's conference suite. Charles was standing in the corner. Dangles told the men to stand at ease, "Boys, as you know the Lieutenant and Sergeant have been incapacitated. I'm told by the doctors here that they should be OK. As you also know, we cannot drive to the medical centre as previously intended. I have spoken to HQ in Freetown and they have ordered us to proceed on foot, carrying as many supplies as possible. They have asked Major James here to take command of the mission. Major James is an emergency disaster relief co-ordinator for the International Red Cross, he is also an Army Reserve Major and an Afghanistan veteran with four tours under his belt. In fact he was my first company commander. We couldn't ask for a better commander."

With that he stood to the side and Major James walked up and took over. "I understand that the circumstances are less than ideal but let's just do the best we can with what we've got. OK? The situation at the Buluna medical centre is critical. There are hundreds of casualties and only one local GP and three British Army combat medics with minimal supplies. In fact, they could have run out by now. It could be several days before the weather opens up and from the sounds of things they don't have that long.

"I'll need everybody to cut down their normal equipment and take as much of the medical equipment as we can. We don't expect to be actively engaged, so only take 2 spare clips of ammo and we'll leave two of the bigger machine guns altogether. Leave out all other non-essential equipment, but make sure you hold onto all your rations and your water purification equipment, as well as insect repellent, mosquito nets et al.

"It's an 18km walk which normally would only take a few hours but could take a lot longer because of the conditions. It's mostly rolling grasslands with not too much thick rain forest but it will be heavy going. Keep an eye out for wildlife. Paths and roads are unsealed and are likely to have been washed away in places but we'll try and stay on them as much as possible." He looked at his watch, and for some reason smiled happily. Turning back to them he said, "It's 11.30am now. It will take us about 6-7 hours. If we are going to get there before nightfall we should leave within the next 30 minutes. Let's GO!"

- OG - OG - OG - OG -

Corporal Molly James was tired. Bone tired. It had been a heavy two days with almost no sleep and precious little rest. She fingered her wedding ring, wondering where Charlie was and if they'd get the chance to work together again here. They had worked together previously, on that Turkish earthquake, but that had been a different kettle of fish. Charlie had flown out on Thursday evening and then the call had come through the next day for medical volunteers. She'd been at the front of the queue and they had managed to work in the same city and see each other regularly for over three weeks. Her CO had been really understanding and allowed her to stay out until she was almost the last British medic there. It had helped that working together they had saved a lot of lives. Then there was the tidal wave in Indonesia when she'd been on leave, and she'd insisted on going out with him. They had done some good work there and also saved lots of lives.

This time it was different. She knew Charlie was here. He'd flown out last week. But the Army mobilisation was much more significant this time. She had, of course, volunteered, and with her record and experience she'd been happily snapped up. They had flown out almost immediately. Jackie Dawlish and Mattie Turner had both been on the plane as well, so at least there were some people she knew. She'd been in country for less than a day when they'd asked for volunteers to go up to a remote medical centre in the mountain foothills in the north of the country. It had sounded like a worthwhile job so she'd volunteered and been assigned two other CMTs to work under her command. They had flown up by chopper and it was one of the scariest flights Molly had ever been on. The weather was already closing in by that time and they'd had a few near misses with cliffs and trees and by the time they got in visibility was in feet. The pilot had landed his chopper and refused to fly back because of the conditions.

When they got to the medical centre, it was not really worthy of its name; a brick built three roomed shack next to the local church. But it was one of the few buildings still standing, not blown over by the strong winds or carried away by flood waters. The local doctor had been delighted to see them and explained the issues. Mainly a lack of capacity and a lack of supplies. Molly had instructed Smith to work with some locals and get more buildings to be used and then she asked Murphy to call in the urgent need for supplies and support, and then get back and help her with triage.

It had been pretty much a constant stream of people for the past few days. The weather had totally closed in and their radio had been useless, there was no mobile phone reception and for some reason the satellite phone wasn't working. She'd managed to grab a few hours of what Charlie called "power naps" here and there, but it had been difficult and now they were down to almost nothing in the way of supplies.

- OG - OG - OG - OG -

A few hours later she stared along the row of beds. It was evening and the rain was still coming down in torrents. She'd never seen anything like it. The rain was almost of biblical proportions. Charlie had described the rainy season in some of the countries he'd been to and she knew from those stories that it could rain hard for hours on end, but in his stories it normally stopped after a time. Here it had been pretty solid for the past two days and the low cloud made everything so damp and cold as well. Luckily the buildings they were inhabiting were on a raised area and had rocky foundations, otherwise she thought they would probably have succumbed to the rain too.

It was unlikely the relief could come today now. No one moved around at night in Africa if they could help it; it was too dangerous. The work at the med centre was backbreaking. Tending to people whose homes had been destroyed around them, who had been hurt in car accidents, who had fallen down hills. She was taking a quick break, slumped in the chair, resting her blood-covered blue gloved hands on her bloody apron, when she heard someone shout, "Corp!" She turned around slowly, shifting her painfully aching body. Standing at the door was Murphy, who frankly looked about as shit as she felt, talking to a soldier. An honest to God British soldier, in camouflage and a soaking wet poncho, but looking good enough to eat under the light of the single electric bulb that hung in the middle of the room.

Carefully she dragged herself to her feet, realising what a mess she must look. She tried to inject a bit of military stiffness into her stance but reckoned she probably just looked stiff. Finally she got up to the soldier, who she could now see was a Corporal, and pulled down her surgical mask to speak to him. She was shocked when the soldier recoiled as if stung and muttered, "Shit! No wonder the gaffer was so keen to get here!"

Confused, but too tired to really bother, she introduced herself, "Corporal Molly James, Royal Army Medical Corps" only to be shocked when he answered with a broad Brummie accent, "I'm hurt you don't recognise me Dawesy, but I suppose it has been a long time! Corporal Paul Rogers, 2nd Battalion, Royal Anglian Regiment."

It was her turn to recoil in shock, "Dangles?!" she went forward to hug him but then remembered she was covered in blood-soaked plastic and paused. "Erm maybe we'll leave that for later, since I'm covered in shit and you look like shit!" Then said hopefully, "please tell me you brought supplies and some more medics?"

"We have Molly. We've got a doctor and two paramedics with us from… an NGO, and my platoon has carried as many supplies as possible on our backs. Since the roads are washed away and we can't fly we had to carry it here. My CO asked me to get the senior British Army medic to report to him. If you want to tidy yourself up, I'll take you to him?"

Molly hurriedly stripped out of her surgical gloves, mask and apron, revealing her still pretty filthy camouflage utilities with her red cross armband and her red, blue and yellow tactical recognition flash, denoting the RAMC. She sanitised her hands and pulled her beret out of her pocket, taking a few seconds to straighten it as much as possible, and then turned to Dangles, who looked at her in concern. "You look like shit Mols. Now we're here I think you should take a rest for a bit."

"Yeah, well you try to take care of a medical centre with hundreds of patients with only 3 combat medics and a doctor for 3 days on end with no rest and no equipment, and then see how you look Dangles!" she snapped tiredly as they set off across the compound towards one of the huts on the periphery.

"Still the same old Dawesy I see," grinned Dangles, "Do me a favour Mols? Never change!"

They got to the hut he was heading for and Dangles banged on the door and entered while Molly stood outside. "Sir, the senior British medic, a Corporal James, is outside" Dangles reported but there was something wrong with his voice. Instead of being formal and appropriate, it sounded like he was grinning. The occupants inside conversed for a second and then Dangles came out grinning. "In you go Dawesy," he exclaimed and then grinned, "knock 'im dead!"

Even in her exhausted state it penetrated that this was pretty strange behaviour, but Dangles was gone into the night before she could react to him. She steeled herself, knocked on the door and went inside, drawing herself up as close to attention as she could get, given her stiffness and fatigue. "Corporal Molly James, RAMC. Reporting as ordered sir!" she reported respectfully to the man standing behind the desk. At that moment he was facing away from her, talking to three people who looked very much like medical professionals, wearing dark blue lightweight gear and white armbands with red crosses, and carrying medical packs.

The CO looked very strange to her in a way her fatigue-addled brain couldn't quite work out. That was it; his uniform. Or rather lack of it. He was wearing what looked like hiking boots, khaki trousers, though not in British Army camouflage pattern, and a khaki shirt, but again not standard. Over a chair hung a soaked blue Gore Tex waterproof which looked very similar to the one that Charlie had.

He swung round to face her and she was transfixed by a very familiar pair of brown eyes that stared at her with a concerned expression as they registered her exhaustion. She twitched in surprise. As stunned green eyes met brown, he introduced himself, "Bit formal today aren't we Dawesy?! But if you want to do it that way… I'm Major Charles James, British Army Reserve and Head of Disaster Emergency Relief, International Red Cross." Then his eyes crinkled and he grinned down at her sardonically, "Missed me?"


A/N 1 This idea came to me almost fully formed and took just a few hours to write up. I thought it would be really nice to see Molly and Charles in action one more time. I've taken a few liberties in terms of accuracy with regards to whether an officer could be re-instated for a few days, but it's just a story. I intended this as a one-shot but the more I think about it, it could grow. What do you think? Is it an interesting enough story to carry on with?

A/N 2 I made up the place name Buluna but I have been to the northern part of Sierra Leone in those foothills and I can confirm that the roads in that part of the world are some of the worst I've travelled on (and I've been to some of the shittiest parts of Africa and Asia!). Also the part about helicopters not flying during the rains is true but I've taken some liberties with the technological issues, although don't think it couldn't happen. One of the issues with the Allied landings at Arnhem in World War II (Operation Market Garden) was that the radio sets they took out were optimised for desert operations and couldn't handle trees and they couldn't contact their bases.