Thanks again for the comments, and I'm sorry I haven't replied individually. This is more slow going than I had originally planned, but when I write, it seems to just develop a mind of its own. I'd planned a chapter for each episode but somehow we have made it to chapter 3 and still have another chapter at least before we finish episode 1. Fingers crossed the length doesn't put anyone off ;)
Happy reading!
If that little girl didn't buck up soon, she'd be a fucking liability, and one that was really setting his teeth on edge. What was that? It was as if she actually didn't have a filter. Or maybe she'd just spent so long being a class clown, she didn't know how to act like a reasonable, adult, human being.
He probably shouldn't have likened her to an almost prostitute. Charles winced when he recalled his words about speed dating.
He wished he hadn't let his emotions get the best of him and called her out in the way he had, giving her section more reason to ridicule her, but, if Sara was going around telling the boys in two section - a section that most of the sane female medics avoided at all cost - she was going around telling the entire camp about his incompetent medic and her fear of blood.
The whole of bastion was sure to know before lunch, what he'd known since setting eyes on her. His medic wasn't going to cut it. She wouldn't make the grade and he'd be fucked, up shit creek without a fucking paddle, a rapidly flooding boat and no bloody medic to pack the hole and stem the bleeding.
"What's bothering you, Charles?" Beck asked as the Captain panted heavily, slowing his run to a stop as the treadmill stilled. Grabbing his towel, he threw it around his neck and picked up his water bottle, irritation clear in his gait as well as his face.
"How much time have you got?" He laughed, no real humour present.
"It can't be that bad, can it? You normally enjoy the tours and we'll be sharing a FOB. What more could you ask for?" Beck smirked.
"Well, for a start, a competent team!" Charles huffed and Beck frowned. "I' ve been lumbered with a severly green medic that's going to need to treat me for nerves that could rival my mother at this rate. You know they say some people just need a little pill? Well my mother and I are going to be queuing up together once this tour is done!" Captain James muttered, sarcastically and the Major chuckled.
"Don't talk about your mother like that!" He grinned, shaking his head, as the two of them left the temporary gym.
Beck came from a family of military officers, just like Henry. But where Henry had avoided joining up, Beck had found a love for the uniform just like the generations before him. General James and Brigidier Beck had served together, and their sons had been firm, life long friends. That was why Charles had a reasonable relationship with his CO.
"Listen, we all started off green. It's not like we were born army officers. The necessary components to being a good soldier include many things. The most important of those being...?"
"At the moment, I've got no fucking clue, but less of a gob would be a good start!" Charles growled, dangerously, causing his superior to snigger.
"Experience, time and a damn fine role model. Your medic will have all of those, once she's been out with you. It's your job to paint the green, so that she is competent and I have every faith, that you will make a fine soldier of the young lady, even if, as you say, she has a bit of a gob."
"I need a cup of coffee!" Charles answered, with a grateful smile, as the two officers made their way to the mess tent.
Captain James avoided any contact with his team for the rest of the evening. He gave Kinders the message that they should all fuck off to bed and expected him to relay it, as well as reign the cockwombles in, so that they were all bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning.
At 3.30am, he dragged himself out of bed, dressed quickly, kitted up and headed to the mess tent for his morning coffee. We wasn't a fully functioning soldier without his morning caffeine, and he needed to be fully functioning this morning.
James was surprised to see the small figure of the gobwomble, slouched over a table, some type of hot beverage - likely now cold, based by the skin forming on the surface of the drink - sat between her palms.
She caught his eye and he sent her a sharp, uninterested look, as she flushed lightly, averting her gaze.
When he'd stirred his black coffee, hoping to make it more appealing, he turned back towards where she was sitting to remind her not to be late, only to discover that she was gone.
What felt a bit like regret trickled down his spine, as he considered the fact that she'd disappeared so quickly, and quietly, after his scathing eye contact.
Sighing heavily, he wiped the thought out of his mind. There was nothing to be done about it now, and he needed to be on his best game as they headed to the F.O.B.
"In case any of you were in any doubt…this is the real deal. The next six months will define the rest of our lives." Never had truer words been spoken. Charles knew that every moment from now would stick with his men - and woman - for the rest of their lives. Even the silly small things would hit, when you least expected them to.
He still remembered every tour in full technicolour, extended detail. Geraint had changed things for him. But he hoped his platoon would never need to remember the details of one of their comrades faces as the life slipped away from them. Fingers crossed their most memorable moments included idiots on tour and nobody dead.
"There will be moments on this tour that you will never forget." Charles couldn't stop his eyes from darting to Smurf, the direct copy of his ill fated twin and a constant reminder to one of the many failures Charles could now attribute to his life. His mind flashed unconsciously to the taste of the dirt as he tried, clumsily, to drag the dead weight of his subordinate across the ground, hoping against hope that Sam's most horrific memory wouldn't be the day that an unknown officer turned up to tell them that his father had died, failing to protect his unit. "Both good…and bad…It's not about looking after number one. It's about looking after numbers two to twelve in your section. That way, you will always have 11 people watching your back. That is why the British Army can never lose….It's what separates us from the enemy," he paused for effect. "This mission is about hearts and minds… We want to leave this place in a better state than we find it. Stay focused...Stay alert...Stay alive…The day that you are less than 100% focused…is the day shit happens."
Eyes drawn to her, once more, he noted that she was, again, stood next to Smurf. Were these two inseparable? Did he need to know something about them? Was there some kind of history between them? He'd have to find out. Purely for the safety of his platoon. He couldn't have them distracted or performing their jobs unprofessionally. He was just doing his job as Captain and looking out for his men.
They piled into the chopper, and surprisingly, she didn't take a seat next to her compadre, though that could have just been due to availability.
At least they all looked like they were taking it seriously. There was no pissing about as they made the journey. The gobwomble spent most of her time staring out into the distance.
Disembarkment ran smoothly, with the two section following his instructions to the letter. He tapped the soldier next to him, Dangleberries, in a sign that they were ready to move on.
As they ventured up to the FOB entrance, one of the local children, a girl, no more than 10 years old, approached the imp. It seemed to have startled her, but she maintained a friendly facade and greeted the girl, with a slightly forced smile.
"Hearts and minds, Dawes!" Charles offered the girl a small smile, and a blue biro pen.
"Ahh, excellent, you all made it in one piece!" Roger Beck grinned, thrusting a hand out for Charles to shake.
"Barely!" The captain grinned in return. The Major had headed out on the first chopper, so he'd arrived about an hour earlier.
"Here - have some water. Relax for a minute, before we head into the ops tent." Beck suggested, handing Charles a bottle of water.
"How generous of you!" Charles answered, dryly.
"I think it could be useful to patrol with the new sections today. I know, we weren't planning to go out until tomorrow, but we've made good time and it could be useful to get a head-start on getting to know our surroundings. I'm happy to head of with 1 section. Charles, you take two section and 3 section can head out with McCormack. You're OK with that, aren't you McCormack? Your platoon aren't heading back to Bastion until tonight, so you'll be happy to show the newbies the ropes?"
"No problem, sir!" Chalres thought that McCormack looked anything but happy about the plans, but couldn't argue with his commanding officer. He repressed a smirk at the other man's expense, as he nodded and made a beeline for the exit, probably going to scream into his pillow, for lack of any other privacy to unload his frustration.
"Excellent! Well, I think I'll gather up 1 section and get a start on their first outing. Maybe we'll hit a mcdonalds on the way through?"
"No, sir, the locals have more refined tastes, you'll only find burger king around here!" Charles offered with a snort.
"I'll have you know, I'm a burger king fan. Aren't you?" Beck smirked.
"As long as nobody mentions Nandos, I'm sure my gun won't need to be unloaded."
"Alright then boys. First patrol!" Mansfield called, eagerly and Charles rolled his eyes, as the section gathered into line."
"Alright lads. All those years of training...it's about this moment." Nude nut, spoke calmly into the coms headset.
"Yeah! I hope there's contact." Baz announced bouncing on his feet and causing Charles to internally groan. Only an idiot which never seen contact would wish for it, when he Section was heading out into the unknown terrain.
"Come on. Let's be 'aving ya, before the sun gets his hat on." Chalres doubted it was the sun that needed to worry about having his hat on.
"Captain Azizi, let's go! The magazine of 30 rounds. Load!" He was entirely in captain mode and was only a tiny bit surprised when the imp was one of the first to complete the loading of her gun, ready to follow orders.
That first trip out was always a strenuous one. It was nerve wracking for all involved, as they tried to get to know the surroundings.
Charles watched as the same, small girl, approached the gobwomble, grinning innocently and saying hello. She appeared to blindside the imp, who looked startled by her appearance. She seemed to recoil for a second, shocked, before regaining her wits and offering the girl a pen, with a smile of her own. It made Charles grin, before he caught himself. She was clearly following his example and trying to engage with the locals. It showed that she was keen to learn and it gave him pause for only a minute, as he wondered if he'd prematurely formed an opinion of her, based on her childish reaction to the word cockwombles. Shaking himself, he remembered that so far, she'd proved that she was as useless as he believed, one pen wasn't going to change that.
"How was that?" Chalres asked, as the section gathered around for an informal debrief of their first patrol.
"Thought there might be a bit more...action, sir." Nude nut confessed.
"Were they watching us d'you reckon, sir?" Baz queried, stupidly and Charles wasn't sure if he wanted to slap the idiot's forehead, or his own, more.
"Without a doubt, Baz, after just one patrol you have become their ace of spades, the Taliban's most wanted man after Prince Harry." The captain mocked, noticing that Baz looked awkward, the rest of the section avoiding his gaze.
"My mum always tells me I look like Prince Harry." Mansfield offered, seriously and the section sniggered.
Charles let put a forced, fake laugh, not remotely amused by the imbeciles he was currently faced with.
"The kids will come up to you, but don't be distracted." He had to remind himself and her, that she wasn't there entirely to make friends with the locals. "The ones on the bikes by the trees to the west could have been dickers." He suggested, so they both knew, she wasn't getting any better at her job until she learned some things. "What were they thinking, Dawes?" He winced internally, not sure why he had to pick her, to put her on the spot, to make her the butt of the sections jokes, once more. The section looked at her as she considered his question.
She appeared to struggle to maintain eye contact with him as she answered. Charles couldn't really say he blamed her. He seemed to always be picking on her and making her look bad. She must have realised by now that he was going out of his way to play her off as the fool. It wasn't intentional though, but he didn't know how to stop himself doing it, because he wasn't sure why he was doing it in the first place.
"That we're at our most vulnerable." She voiced, weakly.
"Why?" Charles was surprised by the answer, and for the first time, he wasn't questioning her to make her look bad. He was questioning her because he was genuinely interested to hear what she had to say.
"We're finding our feet, we don't know the terrain."
"Right." Charles agreed, swallowing dryly as he watched her. There was an audible sigh of relief that she'd finally managed to get something right, but the captain refused to acknowledge it. "2 section going out again at 1300. Everyone go get some scoff."
It concerned him that they'd be heading out without him. With Kinders leading them, but so far, he'd been proven wrong today.
He watched as the boys charged, happily away, as if they hadn't eaten for weeks and not just hours earlier.
The imp seemed to be idling around and not following the rest of the section. He figured, since he was her captain too, personal feelings aside, he should check that every thing was OK.
"You not hungry, Dawes?" He questioned, surprising her. She turned around in a rush to face him.
"I'm just going to wait for the ruck to die down, sir." She rushed, almost embarrassed to be caught skulking around by him. She recovered, quickly, glancing around the camp and then back at him, with a look on her face that cried silent contemplation. "Sir...-"
"Spit it out, Dawes?" He told her, sharply.
"W-..its just...as a medic, I'm a bit worried that Smurf's in the right frame of mind.
Charles frowned, wondering what she'd noticed that he hadn't. Smurf seemed just fine to him. Laughing and joking with the lads. Being his usual cocky self. Prattling on with all kinds of Welsh shit.
Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe they didn't know each other. At least not well, if she didn't think Smurf was in the right frame of kind. Anyone who knew him, knew he was as right as rain. In fact, Charles would go so far as to say, Dylan Smith was in his element out here, a true solider instead of just playing one in training.
"Why's that?" He had to be sure. Asking about her reasoning was the professional thing to do, even if he didn't necessarily agree.
"All that with his brother must have fragged with his head a bit."
It made him irrationally angry, that this little imp was telling him anything about Smurf or his brother. He'd been there the day Geraint Smith had lost his life. The day they delivered him home. The day they'd laid him to rest. The day they'd scattered his ashes. Who was she to tell him what may or may not have fragged with Smurfs head, when she'd never even known Geraint. She'd never known the effect it had, loosing him. He knew Smurf. He knew that he was okay. He wouldn't have missed that. He wouldn't have allowed him to remain on his team if he'd thought...
"He's an excellent soldier. He knows what he's doing." And so do I, he wanted to add, but refrained. How dare this greener than green nymph tell him how to do his job. How dare she question his intelligence, his honor, his decision making.
"It's just that...well, he seemed a bit...I dunno...harsh, let's say, with an ANA bloke."
Was this really what she was basing her baseless theory on?
"It's just a bit of early tour dick waving. Always happens." You'd know that if you were a real soldier. His jaw twitched imperceptibly, as he once again, became that stern and immovable captain who treated her like the imposter she was proving herself to be. He nodded politely, before walking off, internally seething, as Smurf screamed at the top of his lungs.
"We're on tour!" The Welsh man hollered, setting the Captains teeth on edge, as the cockwomble practically buffered her theory that he was...fragged.