Sunlight filtered through a crack in the door. Molly opened her eyes and closed them quickly as the bright sun stung her eyes. Her head was so heavy and so painful that she could barely move it. She moved onto her side and raised herself on one arm, pushing the other arm into the ground to help steady herself. She sat up and immediately felt sick and dizzy. She dropped her head down slowly until the sickness passed. Tears started to roll down her cheeks 'Boss Man where are you I need you desperately. Her thoughts drifted back to those two magical days in Bath, trying to shut out what was happening now. They hadn't left the house, spending two days exploring each other. Lips, hands, hair, faces, bodies. She felt his tongue exploring hers, felt his tender touch as he gently stroked her body. They had only left his bed to eat and shower. The shower became an exquisite extension of bed with his soapy hands exploring her gently and arousing her to a crescendo. She fought hard to keep these thoughts as they pushed away the terror she was feeling.
Her thoughts were interrupted, the door was flung open and the sun blotted out by the figure of one of her captors. He walked over and stared down at her. 'Get up' he commanded. Molly rose slowly and painfully to her feet. 'Outside' he walked over and pushed her towards the door. Oh God please no, don't let them shoot me. Molly was inwardly quaking with fear but outwardly showed defiance. 'Awright no need to shove me' she pushed his arm away and walked out into the bright sunlight. A truck was parked to the side of the building and she could hear a high pitched scream coming from inside. She looked at her captor and he shouted something in the direction of the truck. Suddenly the flap on the back of the truck was pushed back, and she was manhandled towards it. 'Get in'. She was lifted off her feet and dropped inside.
The high pitched scream lowered into a guttural moan of pain, the dropped to a whimper, then….silence. All hell broke loose, men shouted at each other, jostling, panic. Her eyes had now adjusted to the darkness and she could make out the figure of a man lying injured on the floor of the truck. She walked over and knelt beside him. She recognised him as the leader of her captors. She felt the pulse in his neck, he was still alive but his breathing was becoming more and more laboured. She checked his body and suddenly saw a gaping bloody wound in his side. Blood was pouring onto the floor of the truck.
Molly Dawes took control. 'Shut the fuck up' she screamed at the men. They went silent and turned to look at her. She jumped up, and before he knew what was happening, pulled the head covering off the nearest man, dropped to the floor and pushed it into the gaping wound. 'Come 'ere' she commanded and grabbing his hand pushed it against the wound. She made him understand that he was to stay exactly where he was. 'Wot medical supplies 'ave you got' she asked. They all stared at her. She knelt by the man and mimed: scissors, bandages, syringe. One of them jumped into action, took control and barked orders at the others. Two of them jumped from the truck and ran across the village compound.
'Oi we need to get 'im' out ov of 'ere'. She mimed lifting him, went to the back of the truck and pulled back the flap, gesticulating with her hand. They understood immediately and two of them lifted him from under the arms. She pushed the one aside holding the wound plugging and took over from him. Then he and one other lifted the legs. 'On my count, 1,2,3.' They lifted him and he emitted a horrible scream making them all jump. 'Gent'all, be gent'all' they looked at her again. 'Go, go'. He screamed again and they moved rapidly towards the flap.
The two holding his legs put them gently on the floor, jumped down, and lifted them again. The two holding him under his arms shuffled towards the ledge of the truck and lowered his body out of the truck. Molly jumped down keeping the gaping wound firmly plugged. They ran with him to one of the buildings. Inside there was a bed and they laid him on it. He was in such extreme pain that his body was rigid. Two more men came in carrying a medical bag. Molly grabbed the nearest captor and pushed his hand against the wound. She took her bloodstained hand away opened the medical bag. Bandages, scissors, she raked through the bag looking for a syringe and hopefully a phial of morphine. 'Morphine, morphine' she shouted. Another man came in and spoke in English. 'What do you need?' 'I need morphine for the pain, and there ain't none in 'ere' she answered. He spoke rapidly to one of the men, who jumped up , ran out of the door and across the village. He came running back with another medic bag and opened it up for Molly. She reached inside and pulled out a syringe and two phials of morphine. Had they been taken from one of our platoons in an ambush. She shuddered and pushed the thought to the back of her mind.
She put the syringe into the bottle and drew the analgesic up into the syringe. When it was full she went over to the bed and stabbed it into the man's leg, all the time talking to him. 'Stay wiv me mate, stay wiv me. My life might depend on you'. He needs to get to an 'ospital, he's gonna need more 'ran a stitch'. 'ospital?' She looked at the English speaking one. 'No hospital here, you have to save him'. Molly was mortified. She was a medic, not a trained surgeon. 'Me, me. I'm a medic not a surgeon. I can't do that' she said staring at his wound. 'You have to do it, there is no-one else. Tell us what you need and get on with it' he commanded her. Molly looked at him terrified. He caught her gaze and held it. 'Do it….now'. Oh god, oh god 'elp me, 'elp me'. She took a deep breath, found a pack of surgical gloves in one of the bags and handed them to the six men standing around the bed. She cut away his tunic jacket and threw it on the floor. 'I need anaesthetic' she stood and look helplessly at her English speaking captor. 'I can't do this without it'.
He looked at her and went out into the village. She watched him, fear creeping into her whole being. 'Shit, shit shit. I can't do this, I don't know 'ow to'. Yes you can Molly Dawes and you have to. Maybe, just maybe, they might not kill her if she could save his life. She had to give it a go. A truck drove across the village and stopped right outside the door of the building they were in. Molly recognised the markings, it was a US Army Medical Corp truck. Oh god how many did they kill to get this. She shuddered at the thought. 'Look' British speaker ordered her to the truck. She climbed in. It was a fully equipped mobile operating theatre. Sometimes you had to thank fuck for the Yanks she thought. 'Right, let's move 'im in 'ere'. C'mon 'urry up, 'e's losing too much blood' Brit speaker barked orders at the men standing around the bed, they lifted him and moved hurriedly towards the truck. The head covering plugging the hole was soaked. They got him into the Medical Corp truck and put him on the operating table. 'I'm gonna need 'elp. Wash your 'ands and put a pair of these on' she commanded them, pointing at the pull out packet of blue surgical gloves. Brit speaker translated and they went across to the makeshift sink, washed their hands and donned a pair of gloves each.
Molly scrubbed up and put on a pair of gloves, took a deep breath and walked over to the table. She found his vein, pushed in the needle and began to feed the anaesthetic into the vein. She then strapped this to his arm. She caught Brit speaker watching her and looked at him in anguish. Was that a faint nod of encouragement she saw? She wasn't sure. The anaesthetic started to course through his body and his breathing became steady. She placed the mask over his nose and proceeded to feed the tube into his mouth, then hooked him up to the monitoring machines She asked Brit speaker to monitor the tube and machine. He nodded. She took the plug of material out of the wound and blood squirted into her face. 'Wipe me 'ead' she shouted at one of them. They looked at her like she was an alien. 'Wipe me 'ead, I can't see'. Brit speaker spoke and one of them picked up a wipe, walked around the table and wiped the blood away. 'I ain't gonna bite yer' she said to him. She cleaned out the wound with a syringe of salty water. The Yanks had it all on tap, thank God. She inserted a drain into the wound and called for plugging.
She knew a surgeon would check for internal damage but she had no experience of this so could only do what she knew. Brit speaker again gave them an order and one of them brought wadding to her. She pushed it into the wound. 'es's gonna need a bloody great stitch to hold this lot togever' she said as she started suturing the wound. Droplets of sweat were forming on her brow. Brit speaker noticed and reached across and wiped them. She looked up and nodded at him. After what seemed like hours the wound was closed.
'e'll need a transfusion' she said to Brit speaker and got a synthetic blood pack from the medical cupboard. She put a line into a vein and hooked up the bag. She also put in another drip to keep him hydrated. She asked Brit speaker to remove the mask but left the airway tube connected.
She suddenly dropped to the floor, her head screaming in pain. Brit speaker knelt beside her. 'e did this' she said pointing at the patient, and touching the back of her head. Brit speaker looked at the wound. The blood was congealed and the wound was swollen. He went to the medical cupboard and found some anaesthetic wipes walked across to Molly and proceeded to gently wipe the wound. 'ow, that 'urts' she cried out. 'Sorry Molly Dawes'. She turned quickly and saw him smile at her. She didn't know what to do or think. 'Fanks' she said looking down at the floor. He continued to clean the wound and then went over to the cupboard again. He searched inside and found some painkillers. He brought them over to Molly. 'Here take two of these'. He handed them to her and then gave her a bottle of water. She swigged the tablets down, rubbed her head and stood up.
She went over to the patient and told Brit speaker that someone had to stay with him to monitor his breathing. He nodded, spoke to two of the men and they sat on chairs either side of the Op table.
'ow did this 'appen' she asked him. 'Taliban wanted control of this village. There was a gun battle and he got shot'. 'But I fought you was Taliban' she asked confused. 'We are' he answered looking at her directly in the eyes. 'But this is our territory and they came from another area to try and take over'. He walked away. Bad sign that they're fighting for territories, she thought. She had no illusions that she was still a 'wanted' prisoner and kept wondering what was going to happen now.