Sorry it's been so long since I've updated - I hope you guys can still enjoy this!
When Major Beck arrives, two days later, little has changed. Molly is still stuck in bed. She's talked to Dangleberries some more. They tried to play a game of snap, but she couldn't remember how to play, and kept getting confused and frustrated, so eventually they gave up.
The rest of Two Section booked into a nearby hotel and have been relaxing and messing around since. Only Smurf and I have stayed in the plastic chairs outside Molly's room, waiting for any change.
Major Beck brings with him a neurologist, a psychiatrist and some other army official I've never met, though she seems nice.
"We're going to try and uncover what happened." Major Beck explains to Smurf and me. "So we're going to interview you each in turn, get your side of the story."
"And Molly?"
"We will interview Private Dawes. Doctor Marsh has said she is mentally stable."
Mentally stable? She was sobbing over a game of snap about two hours ago. But I hold my tongue. I know Major Beck has pulled some strings to get Two Section a break.
They take Smurf off first, into the break room. They're gone for nearly an hour before I'm taken in there too.
Major Beck turns on the microphone. "Time is 12.16 on Wednesday 5th March. Present is Major Beck and Lieutenant Colonel Davis." He looks at the woman sat next to him. "Interviewing Captain Charles James about the incident that took place on Tuesday 21st February."
He smiles at me.
"Can you tell us in your own words, what happened on Tuesday 21st February."
I take a deep breath. "We were trying to take a fortification on the hill. There had been some tip off or leak or something, because when we arrived there was serious opposition. We tried to fight, but it was pointless. I told everyone to evacuate. We began to evacuate when Molly - sorry, Private Dawes - was hit. I treated Private Dawes whilst two other members of Two Section covered me. I told the rest of the section to continue the evacuation." Reliving the experience is almost worse than actually being there. Did I make the right decision? Could I have stopped all of this from happening?
"However, the enemy was too close, and I made the decision to leave Private Dawes and evacuate the two other members of the section."
"And how injured was Private Dawes?" Major Beck asked.
"I'm not a medic, but it seemed serious. I gave her morphine, but I couldn't stop the bleed. It was extensive and seemed fatal."
Major Beck nodded and didn't push it any further.
"Honestly sir. I thought she was dead." Tears choke in my throat and my voice cracks.
"I believe you Captain."
Tears fall, and I don't care that I look weak in front of my superiors.
"Do you need a minute Captain James?"
I nod, unable to speak through the emotion, and Major Beck leans forward and pauses the tape recorder. He glances at Colonel Davis, who fishes a crumpled tissue out of her pocket it and hands it to me. I take it gratefully, blowing my nose and trying to take back control.
"Ready?" Major Beck asks after an uncomfortable silence, and, after a nod of confirmation, he turns the tape recorder back on.
Later, after they've interviewed Fingers and Molly, Major Beck and Colonel Davis talk to one of the nurses. They've left their recorder out on the table in the break room. With one press of a button I could hear Molly's side of the story. I glance through the partly open door. They're deep in chat.
I turn back to the recorder and press play. Molly was the last interview they did so it doesn't take long to rewind to the start.
"The time is 15.32 on Wednesday 5th March. Present is Major Beck and Lieutenant Colonel Davis, interviewing Private Molly Dawes about the incident that took place on Tuesday 21st February." Major Beck's familiar voice fills the room. "Private Dawes, can you please tell us everything you remember about the incident."
"I don't remember much."
Her voice hits me. I haven't heard it - not properly, in weeks. She sounds so broken, so lost. I just want to hold her tight and never let her go.
"Do you remember the assault Two Section attempted?"
"Yes," she says, her voice full of relief that she can answer a question. "We were meant to be taking back a village. We were working alongside Four Section. I was the medic."
"Was the assault successful?"
"No. We were overrun. We tried to evacuate."
"Do you remember being shot?"
There's a pause as she thinks about this. "I don't know if it's my actual memories or descriptions of the event or something I've just made up."
"Why don't you describe what you remember?"
"I was shot. In the abdomen. Someone put pressure on the wound. There were other soldiers around us. Then they all ran. The pain was terrible and I passed out…"
"Do you remember waking up?"
"No." Molly says, her voice shaky. "I don't remember much about the last three weeks."
"Do you remember any of the men who took you?"
"No. I remember seeing faces, but they were behind headscarves."
"Did you see anyone else? Another hostage?"
"I don't know."
"What about the injuries they inflicted?"
"I remember coming round. There were men in the room. They hit me with the butts of their rifles. One of them grabbed me round my throat-" Molly chokes at this point, like their hands are back round her neck. "Then they hit me on the head again, and I don't remember anything else."
"What about being rescued? Do you remember anything about being rescued?"
"A man arrived. He was different. He was wearing army uniform…" she pauses, trying to collect her memories or work out how to phrase it, I don't to know. "He helped me up, cut me out of the ropes. Then he took me outside. The light was so bright. I was tired and everything hurt. I think I fainted because I don't remember anything after that." Her voice is thick with tears. "I just remember. I thought it was heaven. The bright light. I thought I had died."
I stand up, slamming the stop button on the recorder and stalking out of the room. I need some fresh air. Molly. I just want to be with her, to help her. She needs so much but I can't give her any of it. I have to trust these doctors and psychiatrists who treat her mind like a playground. No one cares about her like I do. To them she's just another patient - a lucky medic to escape the clutches of the Taliban.
I wonder around the campus for a few hours. I'm sure they're not missing me, and I take the time to get something to eat, to wash my hair in the shower block and have a nap on the sofa in the pop-library that nobody seems to use. The campus is dull and homogenous - almost identical to every camp I've had to hang around on, but the pizza is good and the showers are warm, so I can't complain.