The Army Doctor's New Year's Baby

by Helen Scott Taylor

  ***

  The British troops were stationed at a small port 150 miles north of the Arctic Circle. With deep snow, ice, and temperatures regularly thirty degrees below freezing, the conditions were ideal for testing the men and machinery in extreme cold weather warfare.

  In the last seven weeks, Daniel had dug himself a snow cave and spent the night inside it, skied three miles cross-country with his medical pack on his back, practiced ice climbing, and spent cold nights in a two-man tent in the middle of an ice field.

  The most fun had been skijoring, being towed on skis behind a BV-206 all-terrain vehicle. He'd been eager to take part in all the training, thinking it would be great practice for working with the Scottish mountain rescue team.

  Gratefully wrapped in thermals and winter uniform, he watched the soldiers practicing the ice-breaking drill. He winced as a young private hardly out of his teens pushed his feet in his ski bindings and slid down into the freezing cold water through an ice hole. This was one exercise he was happy to sit out.

  The poor guy panted as the cold water hit his face. Splashing around, he pulled the heavy pack off his shoulder and heaved it onto the ice. His sergeant squatted a few feet away, encouraging him. "Name and number, soldier."

  The guy in the water gave the details, then dug the spikes of his ski poles in the edge of the hole, kicked his legs, and pulled himself out. It seemed harsh to practice such a thing when the air temperature was fifteen degrees below freezing, but it taught the men how to get themselves out of trouble if they fell through a hole in the ice.

  With his white coveralls clinging to his wet thermals, and his sneakers squelching with each step, the soldier jogged to the makeshift bar a few yards away, toasted the Queen, and knocked back his shot of whiskey. Then he headed to the warm tent where his dry clothes were laid out.

  This was where Daniel came in. He and Duncan were monitoring the troops for signs of cold injury. He followed on the man's heels, pulling back the tent flap to be greeted by the welcome warmth.

  Duncan was just finishing with the previous soldier, now warmly dressed and sipping a hot drink.

  "How are you feeling, Private?" Daniel said, approaching the wet soldier as he stripped off.

  "Cold, sir."

  They both laughed.

  Daniel waited while the man dried himself and pulled on some thermals. "I need to check your hands and feet. Sit down here for a moment."

  Daniel indicated a small canvas stool. He sat on another and examined the man's hands for discoloration. This ice-breaking exercise came at the end of a rigorous seven weeks of exposure to subfreezing temperatures. They had already sent two men home and were vigilant for any signs of cold injury. This last exercise might be the final straw for anyone who was already vulnerable.

  "Have you suffered any pain, numbness, or tingling in your fingers or hands?"

  "No, sir."

  They had been testing a new thermal fabric during this training exercise. It was proving to be excellent, thin and stretchy but with a thin layer of vacuum-filled bubbles in the middle that provided insulation. Daniel wore it himself and could attest to its efficacy. He was going to recommend it to Kindrogan Mountain Rescue when he got home.

  "Let me see your feet. Right one first, Private."

  "Yes, sir." The man lifted his right foot onto the footrest, and Daniel checked it over. He wasn't as happy with the guy's feet. The skin looked discolored.

  "Have your feet been hurting?"

  The young soldier averted his gaze before he answered. "A little. But I didn't think it was enough to complain about, sir."

  "Left foot."

  The man swapped the foot on the support. This one was worse, the toes red, the skin shiny and swollen in places. They would be blistering soon.

  Daniel glanced around for the new thermal socks the man should be wearing and saw no sign of them. "Where are your insulating socks, Private?"

  "They make my feet itch, sir. I did tell the sarge."

  Daniel sucked in a breath and released it slowly. "You're given these special socks to wear for a reason. What's your name?"

  "Private Montgomery, sir. Call me Monty."

  "Well, Monty. It looks like you'll be coming to the Institute of Thermal Medicine with me. Some of your toes have frostbite. You should have come to one of the doctors and reported the discomfort before the ice-breaking drill."

  "Sorry, sir."

  Daniel shook his head. These young men were so eager to please, they didn't report health issues if it interfered with their training.

  "Is it serious, Doc?"

  "We won't know for a few weeks. We'll admit you to the ward and keep you under observation." The man's face fell. Daniel felt sorry for him. There was such keen competition between the soldiers. Being sent home for this would earn him a good ribbing by his mates. He called a nurse over to dress the man's feet and went to find Duncan.

  He stood near the ice hole. The soldiers waiting to take their turn were lined up to one side. "My last guy has clinical signs of cold injury. I hope it'll heal, but we need to get him in the warmth and keep him there."

  "Brigadier Palmer mentioned the air support is heading back to the UK this afternoon. If I can swing it, you could ride back with them and admit the casualty straight away. One of the Sea Kings should be able to drop you at the institute."

  Daniel's heart soared. Megan had never been far from his mind. Sitting on his own in his ice cave or huddled in his sleeping bag in a tiny tent, every quiet moment his thoughts turned to her. If he could go home early, it would be fantastic.

  "Okay. I'll tell the casualty to prepare, and alert his commanding officer," Daniel said.

  His fingers went to the photograph of Megan in his pocket. His phone battery had died long ago, so he hadn't been able to look at the photos on his phone or contact her for days. But he'd carried her picture with him everywhere.

  He couldn't wait to hold her in his arms again.

  Chapter Ten

  Rain pelted so hard Megan was soaked running the twenty feet to Lyall's vehicle. She jumped in with a shiver and huddled in front of the warm air blower. She was cold and wet, but at least by the time her morning surgery ended, the nausea had subsided. It always faded in the middle of the day, or that had been the pattern over the last few weeks.

  Lyall glanced at her as she grabbed a hank of hair and squeezed the rain out onto the floor of his police car. "Are you feeling better today? You've got a bit more color in your face."

  She laughed. "I'm fine, thanks." The last few weeks had been awkward between them. She'd kept avoiding Lyall's questions about why she was ill. Normally she confided in him, but Daniel must be the first person to know about the baby.

  Lyall revved the engine and pulled away, ducking his head to view the tops of the mountains. Megan followed his gaze. The mountain peaks were obscured by heavy gray clouds, sheets of rain sweeping down the valley.

  "I hope this weather doesn't catch anybody out. Don't fancy trekking up there today to pull some climber out of trouble."

  Megan didn't either. She'd have to consider when to suspend her mountain rescue work. She didn't want to put her baby at risk. When Daniel came home, they'd discuss it.

  She shivered, not from cold but anticipation. He'd texted her to say he was coming back early with a casualty. By tonight he would be home.

  She planned to cook Daniel roast venison. Over a candlelit dinner, she'd break the news of her pregnancy. A twinge of worry hit her but she pushed it aside. Daniel would be pleased about the baby. Every time she imagined his reaction, he grinned his wonderful grin and hugged her.

  Rain slashed over the windshield, such a deluge the wipers couldn't keep the glass clear. "Don't you just love Scotland," she said.

  Lyall sang a few lines of "Bonny Scotland." Megan joined in and they sang at the top of their voices as they bumped through potholes in the road, unable to see more than a few yards ahead in the awful weather. When they finished, they both burst out la
ughing.

  How she wished she could confide in her friend that she was pregnant. If it were any other secret, she would have told him. She and Lyall had always been close and shared confidences. This was the first time another man had come between them.

  They pulled up in the Kindrogan courtyard outside the back door. Megan summoned her strength, then shoved open the car door and dashed through the downpour to reach the warm kitchen.

  Standing in a puddle, she shrugged out of her coat and kicked off her sodden pumps. Lyall followed her. While he shook their wet coats out the door, Hew arrived in his Kindrogan Estate Land Rover and ran inside with a sleepy Fergus in his arms.

  Megan put on the kettle. She wanted to have a quick lunch so she could get on with preparing for Daniel's return. "Anyone want a sandwich?"

  Both men replied in the affirmative as her phone dinged with a text. She pulled it out of her bag and stared at the screen.

  Power at last. Charged my phone! Leaving soon. Can't wait to see you tonight. All my love, Daniel.

  Megan whooped with joy. She couldn't wait to see him.

  Lyall raised his eyebrows. "Who's that from?"

  "Daniel's coming back early."

  "Don't tell me. Pretty boy has injured himself," Lyall said with a cynical twist of his lips.

  "No. He's bringing a casualty to the clinic. I'm getting fed up with your snide remarks, Lyall. What's Daniel ever done to you?"

  He stared at Megan for long moments, then shook his head and started unlacing his wet boots.

  The kettle boiled, its whistle splitting the awkward silence. Too happy at the prospect of seeing Daniel to be annoyed, Megan's smile flashed back as she returned her attention to her phone. Daniel had sent her a video of him in winter uniform standing beside a helicopter. "Just boarding," he'd said, and showed her a view inside the helicopter. "It's a Sea King. Makes me feel right at home."

  She smiled at that, remembering the time he'd accompanied the mountain rescue team.

  "Can't wait to see you, sweetheart. I love you." He pressed his lips to the tips of his gloved fingers and blew her a noisy kiss.

  Megan's heart fluttered like a trapped bird. She held the phone against her chest and sighed with pleasure. Tonight would be wonderful.

  Hew was pouring out the tea, so Megan grabbed the loaf of bread and cut slices. She filled sandwiches, then cut them in quarters and heaped them on a plate. After handing out smaller plates, she sat down and watched Daniel's video again a few times, ignoring the long-suffering glances of the men who had to listen to Daniel's romantic words along with her.

  Daniel was coming home and he loved her. That was all that mattered. After watching the cute video, she was even more certain he'd be pleased about the baby. He really was the sweetest, most romantic guy she'd ever met. And he was hers.

  A discordant burst of bagpipes music cut into the silence. Lyall dug his phone from his pocket and swiped his hand across his mouth to wipe off crumbs as he glanced at the screen.

  "It's Duncan." He frowned and put the phone to his ear.

  "Hi, Dunc." He listened for a few seconds, his frown deepening.

  Why had Duncan called Lyall instead of her or Hew? The thought flitted through Megan's mind, but she was too preoccupied to wonder for long. After lunch, she would clean her bathroom and change the sheets on her bed. This time, Daniel could share her room.

  "You've already called RAF Lossiemouth?" Lyall asked.

  Megan's attention snapped to Lyall as his words penetrated her thoughts. "Is this a mountain rescue callout?" she mouthed at Hew. He shrugged.

  Lyall nodded to himself. "Okay. We'll prepare. I'll keep you posted."

  Slipping his phone back in his pocket, Lyall glanced at Hew, his expression guarded.

  "Was that a callout?" Megan asked.

  Lyall scraped back his hair.

  "Lyall." There was something about the grim set of his mouth that made Megan uneasy. "Why did Duncan call you?"

  "They've lost contact with the helicopter Daniel's in."

  Fear slashed along Megan's nerves. Her hand clenched reflexively, scrunching her napkin.

  "Where? When?"

  "About fifteen minutes ago, over the Cairngorms."

  Suddenly it all made sense. Duncan had called Lyall to mobilize the mountain rescue team.

  A tiny whimper escaped her lips and she pressed a hand over her mouth. This couldn't happen. She couldn't lose Daniel. She tried to summon positive thoughts, tell herself he would be all right, but people died in the Scottish mountains every year. If his helicopter had crashed in the bad weather, his chances were slim.

  She jolted to her feet, her chair scraping back with a sickening squeal. "I'll change. We need to leave."

  Lyall came around the table and tried to put his arm around her. "It's not a good idea for you—"

  She sidestepped, throwing up a hand to hold him off. "Stop it. I'm coming. This is not up for discussion."

  There was no way on earth she would stay here when Daniel might be on the mountainside hurt. If he was lost out there, she would find him or die trying.

  ***

  Daniel spluttered in the cold water. Why had they made him do the ice-breaker drill? He was cold and wet, his thermals clinging to his skin. His head throbbed when he tried to move, and his leg was trapped in the ice.

  He was going to drown.

  Panicking, he struggled, thrashing his head from side to side, trying to breathe.

  Then he came to.

  Freezing water beat against the side of his face, trickling into his ear and down his neck.

  Where the hell was he? Slitting his eyes open, he saw twisted gray metal with mist swirling past, and rain—heavy, incessant rain mixed with hailstones.

  This wasn't the ice hole.

  For a moment, relief rushed through him. Then he remembered: thick clouds, zero visibility, buffeting wind, the pilot fighting for control, then the helicopter crashing, careening along on its side like a crazy fairground ride, equipment tumbling around, banging into him. He must have been knocked out.

  Daniel dragged in a breath and released it, the sound emerging as a shivery groan. He lifted a hand to his head, relieved that he could, and touched the throbbing ache above his right ear. With his gloves on, he couldn't determine how bad the injury was.

  "Major Fabian, can you hear me?"

  Lucidity returned fast now. Daniel held a forearm over his face to shield his eyes from the icy rain and peered towards the voice. The pilot leaned through a gap in the twisted wreckage, blood pouring from a wound on his head.

  Daniel grabbed something sturdy beside him and used it to help himself sit up. Pain screamed inside his head. He had to close his eyes and concentrate on breathing until the discomfort subsided. He wiped a glove over his face and it came away bloody. Running his hand over his face again, he searched for the injury. His whole head throbbed, but he located the source—a laceration in his hairline.

  "Can you get up, Major?" The pilot called to him again. "I need medical help over here for the copilot."

  Daniel had to swallow and suck in a couple of breaths before he could answer. "I'm trying." There was something on top of him. He shoved aside a box and some packs that lay on his legs to reveal a metal girder angled out from the misty gray mass of the wreckage, pinning his left shin.

  He shoved at it. Pain ricocheted up his leg and blasted the air from his lungs, leaving him panting. Unless the pilot could shift the girder, he wasn't moving anywhere.

  "I'm pinned down," he shouted, hating the feeling of helplessness.

  "Okay. I'll come and help you. Give me a moment."

  Dizziness swirled in Daniel's head. With a groan, he lowered himself back down and threw an arm over his face. Clean mountain air filled his nose, then the acrid tang of aviation fuel. At least the temperature and heavy rain would cool any hot metal likely to ignite the flammable liquid.

  Metal groaned and clanged in counterpoint to the incessant drumming of rain on
the helicopter's hull as the pilot pushed through the wreckage. When the man arrived, Daniel noticed his arm tied against his chest in a blue sling and a bleeding gash across his forehead. His medical training kicked in; for a little while he forgot his own situation.

  "Did you lose consciousness?" Daniel asked, wondering if the guy had a skull fracture.

  "No. Wish I had. Hurts like blazes."

  "What's your copilot's condition?"

  "Unconscious but breathing."

  "How's the patient I'm traveling with, Private Montgomery?"

  "I can't find him."

  Daniel sat up again, wincing as the pain in his head flared. He scanned the area for signs of Monty. Through the haze of pelting rain and mist, he could see nothing but twisted wreckage and debris.

  "Monty," he called at the top of his voice, gritting his teeth at the resulting head pain.

  No answer.

  "I only had a quick look outside. I didn't want to leave Frank for too long." The pilot gestured in the direction he'd come.

  "We need to move this metal bar that's trapping my leg so I can search for Monty." Pain pounded through Daniel's skull even harder at the thought he'd lost his patient. He prayed the young man was all right.

  The pilot kicked away some more debris to give himself space, then using his good arm, he tugged at the fallen girder ineffectually. He shook his head. "I'm not going to move this on my own. You'll have to wait until the cavalry arrives."

  "Did you radio for help?"

  "The local mountain rescue group is on the way."

  "Where did we come down?"

  "Cairngorms."

  They were near Kindrogan. Megan might be with the rescue team. Her smiling face filled Daniel's mind and hope pulsed through him. He wanted to see her so badly, it brought tears to his eyes.

  Chapter Eleven

  Conditions were treacherous. Visibility down to a few yards. Megan peered into the mist and picked her way over slippery rocks, fists clenched in her gloves, muscles taut and teeth gritted. She moved as fast as she could, bending into the gale-force winds.