Nadya's War

by C. S. Taylor

  For the first couple dozen seconds, I stared straight ahead and tried not to focus on anything else but hanging. Klara grunted and drew my attention. Her dark eyes met mine, and though she spoke no words, I could’ve sworn she was apologizing to me. For what, I didn’t know. Sweat trickled in my eyes. My body trembled, and all the while her athletic figure looked as if it hadn’t a smidge of strain upon it. Then I realized she was apologizing because she knew she’d outlast me without trouble.

  A lump formed in my throat. If I didn’t fight harder, my life would be over. I thought about what Petrov would do and tightened my grip. I shut my eyes and counted the seconds. Five. Ten. Fifteen. Thirty.

  My grip weakened, and I pictured that devilish German ace, rolling his Messer around me, taunting me with his wicked grin, and then pictured the look of shock on his face when I’d turn the tables and blast him apart. The only way I’d see that day is to hang on longer. That final confrontation would be far harder than hanging off some silly beam. I would do it. I had to.

  When my arms threatened to rip themselves apart, I thought about what the commissar would do to my family. If they were lucky, they’d be sent naked to a work camp in Siberia and be met with a swift, frozen death. Those thoughts helped me galvanize my body to bend to my will, and the pain faded.

  I peeked at Klara. Though she was sweating, she still looked like she could go on for an hour. I shut my eyes and told myself to only worry about my own performance, my own strength. In that moment, my hands gave out, and I crashed to the floor.

  Chapter Eight

  “I suppose it had to end at some point,” I heard Klara say. She sounded both disappointed and amused.

  I opened my eyes and looked up at them. I was shocked to find Tamara offering me a hand up.

  “Congratulations, Nadya. You’re still flying,” she said. “But if those wounds cause issue, Klara permanently takes your seat.”

  Confused, I twisted my mouth and glanced to my side. Klara stood next to me, arms wrapped around her midsection.

  “You beat her by about a half second,” Tamara said, hand still out. “I’ll be honest, I thought she had you licked.”

  “So did I,” I confessed. I winced as I took her hand, and she pulled me up.

  Tamara turned my wrists and stared at my palms. “What on Earth did you do to yourself?”

  I looked at my hands. The insides were rubbed raw and covered in broken blisters. I smiled sheepishly. “Practice, comrade major, over the last few days.”

  Marina laughed and squeezed Tamara on the shoulder. “I can’t begin to tell you how impressed I am she wants to fly this badly,” she said. “I think you can give her a day to get cleaned up and rest before tossing her back in the cockpit.”

  “Agreed,” Tamara said. “Nadya, you’ve got twenty-four hours. I’m putting you on the first patrol for tomorrow night.”

  “Yes, comrade major.”

  Marina and Tamara left. The moment they were gone, I jumped up and down, screaming like a little kid who’d opened up her perfect present for Christmas. “Oh God,” I said, stopping and abhorring my behavior. “I’m so sorry. I’m such an ass for acting like that.”

  “It’s fine,” she said. Her arms hung limp at her side, and her eyes stared out into the distance like a bit of her soul had gone away, never to return. She turned her face to me and gave a smile. “I should get back to work before I end up here.”

  She left, and I latched on to her words. Everything was fine. I’d kept my flight status. She was moving on. It wasn’t like she couldn’t take another slot when it opened up. More importantly, I was going to fly! I would redeem myself, avenge Martyona, bring honor to my lineage and earn respect from my peers. God, the day was a miracle!

  I ran out the door and twirled. I longed for a dance partner, and I found Valeriia Khomyakova, deputy commander of my squadron to fill that need.

  Valeriia had the face of a cherub with dark eyes that at first glance were playful and inviting, but if one held their gaze long enough, there was a dangerous glint to them. It made me think of her as a lioness who’d smile at someone who could be her next friend or next meal. I’d always thought that look was perfect given what we did. We were fighter pilots, a pride of huntresses, warm to each other but lethal to others. And though she had me by eight years, she barely looked twenty. Secretly, I hoped I aged as well as she did. To my delight, she never saw me coming as I snatched her up, spinning and laughing.

  “Nadya!” she yelled, eyes wide. She pushed away out of reflex but didn’t pull herself free from my grasp. “Have you gone mad?”

  “I’m flying! I’m flying!” I said over and over. I pounced on her like a cat on a mouse and squeezed her tight. She was taller than me by a few centimeters, and thus hanging off her neck came easy.

  “Okay, okay,” she said, laughing. This time she squirmed out of my grasp and used her hand to keep me at bay. “For all that is holy in the world, Nadya, you need a bath. You reek.”

  I sniffed myself and gagged, but feigned ignorance. “Not that bad. Surely you jest.”

  “Come off it, Nadya,” she said. “Don’t try and pull that on me after a week in the box.”

  I curtsied and failed to keep a straight face. “I apologize if I offended you.”

  “At the moment, you nauseate me more than offend. When’s your first flight?”

  “Night duty, tomorrow,” I replied.

  “On patrol with me then,” she said. “That ought to give you enough time to be presentable, yes?”

  “Maybe,” I said. I staggered toward her. “I’m feeling faint. I think you’ll need to help me.”

  I lunged at her, laughing even more now, but she was quick, always had been both in the sky and on the ground. Before I could smear my sweaty arms and face on her, she slipped away. “Don’t you dare come at me again,” she said. She leveled a stern finger, but her voice was as light as a schoolgirl playing games in the classroom when the teacher was away. “I mean it Nadya! We’re hunting in less than an hour. I need to get ready, not fetch a change of clothes. I don’t want the Germans finding us on smell alone.”

  “Fine,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and sticking my tongue out at her. “You really know how to suck all the fun out of a good celebration.”

  Valeriia waved her hand in front of her nose and rolled her eyes up in her head. “Your odor did that long before I did. Now go.”

  “I shall take my leave then,” I said, curtsying once more.

  I headed off for the Volga River, about a ten-minute walk from where I was. I made a quick stop to my dugout. It was my glorified hole in the ground where we slept when it was either too cold or too wet to sleep outside, but I’d taken to it enough to call it home. There I grabbed a change of clothes and a ratty towel. I thought about trading my soiled uniform for a new one right there, but I was so filthy, I didn’t want to get my clean ones dirty the moment they touched my skin.

  When I went back outside, I ran into Petrov as he came out of the command post. The perturbed look on his face intensified when he spied me, I’m certain on account of my upbeat attitude.

  “Major,” I said with the proper salute. “I thought you should know I’m still a pilot.”

  “So I’ve been made aware,” he replied, but instead of a look of disappointment, he had an amused look in his eyes, one I was sure the Devil had when he started a new game with one of us mortals. “Don’t think this changes anything. We’ll be spending a lot of time together in the near future.”

  As unsettling as his words were, I kept my face straight, refusing to let him get to me. “I’ll be looking forward to it, comrade commissar.”

  “No. You won’t.”

  He flashed a predatory grin before sticking his pipe into his mouth and leaving. I hurried to the Volga to clear my mind of him, and a private driving an olive mail car picked me up as I headed out of the airfield. When I got in, I realized that from afar he must have thought me prettier than I was, for his eyes wen
t wide when I got close. He said little to me, other than asking me where I’d like to get dropped off. Maybe he thought I was crazy. My matted, wild hair looked the part.

  He let me out near the banks of the river, and I trotted to a secluded area where the grass grew high and trees shielded me from prying eyes. I shed my clothes and slipped into the slow-moving water. Goosebumps raised on my skin, and despite the chill, I savored every moment rubbing the grime from my body.

  I dipped under the surface and washed my hair. I managed to get some of the tangles out in the water using my fingers, but I’d need a brush for the rest. So I floated on my back and watched the few clouds in the sky drift. A fresh scent in the wind helped me relax.

  I daydreamed about finally being able to soar above them once more, and wondered how long it would be until I encountered the Luftwaffe again—a specific member of the Luftwaffe—and all the ways I’d become the victor. I wondered if I’d kill him while he was still in his plane, or if he bailed, I wondered if I’d come around and shoot him hanging in his harness. Pilots abhorred such behavior on both sides, but if I were presented with that scenario it might be one of the few times I truly wouldn’t care what others thought.

  Klara interrupted my daydreams with a sharp whistle. She stood near the river’s edge, holding my towel. “Having fun exposing yourself to the world? The Major wants to see you.”

  “Not much left of me to expose,” I said, noting I could stand to gain a few kilos. “What’s going on?”

  “Kazarinova’s bumping you to a new flight,” she said. “You’re launching with Valeriia in less than an hour.”

  I swam over, scrambled up the steep bank, and grabbed the towel. “What happened? Why so sudden?”

  “Escort mission for a VIP,” she said. “Guess she’s too short on pilots after all the transfers.”

  I dried and dressed as fast as I could. “Who was transferred?”

  “Liliia, Ekaterina, Klavdiia, Raisa and four others.” Klara replied. “Almost everyone who challenged Kazarinova’s command.”

  “Do you know where they went?” I asked as sadness struck me at their loss.

  Klara nodded. “To the 437th. They’re based east of Stalingrad now.”

  “I can’t believe so many are gone. Wonder how that will affect the rest of us. We’re thin enough.”

  “The 437th doesn’t even fly the same fighters as we do. It’s a logistical and training nightmare. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s trying to screw things up on purpose.”

  Despite the seriousness of the conversation, I chuckled. “Like a spy?”

  “I know she’s not,” Klara replied. “I’d shoot her myself if I thought she was. But you have to admit, the whole thing is bizarre.”

  “Bizarre doesn’t begin to cover it,” I admitted. “But we should get back before she counts us as deserters and has our heads.”

  With brisk strides, we walked back to the airfield, making awkward small talk and dancing around this morning’s events. She seemed unaffected at losing her chance to fly, and she never brought it up. I was sure it was a façade. I knew firsthand the sucking hole in the chest that formed and never healed when dreams were snatched. I wanted to stop and beg for forgiveness and promise I’d fight for a pilot billet for her every chance I got. I didn’t, and I’d like to say it was because she wouldn’t let me have such a conversation, but in reality I was too scared to start it as I didn’t know what she’d say.

  Klara returned to the field to prep the planes, and I ran into the command post to get briefed on the mission. It was what Klara had said it would be: a simple escort. Valeriia would be leading me and Alexandra Makunina, a new pilot I’d not met. We’d rendezvous with the VIP near Tolyatti, a city about two hundred and fifty kilometers to the northeast. Once we had him, it was a short flight to Kazan where we would all land. We’d refuel and go home, and he would go inspect whatever plant he needed to. It was going to be a sleeper of a flight. I’d sooner bet on Stalin becoming a capitalist before I’d bet we’d encounter any Luftwaffe as we’d be flying deep within our own country. Despite the constant reassurance by everyone of the same, as I left the command post and headed to my fighter, my stomach turned sour and my arms ached. All I could think about was how hot the flames must have been that engulfed Martyona’s plane.

  “I did the complete pre-flight check,” Klara said, snapping me out of my daze. I’d walked the entire trip across the airfield and hadn’t even noticed. “You’re all set.”

  Instead of replying, I gaped at the plane standing in front of me. Metal skin, smooth as glass, wrapped the fighter and was free of holes and patch jobs. The olive paintjob didn’t have a single chip in it, not even where the canopy slid back or on the wing roots where we often put our feet. Without even starting it, I knew the engine’s purr would resonate with my soul like no other.

  “Fresh from the factory,” Klara said. “She’s barely past her break-in.”

  “I’m almost scared to touch her.”

  Klara laughed. “Well don’t be. You’re going to love having a new plane. This one will take care of you.”

  “She’s more than a new plane,” I said. “She’s a new me.”

  The fighter was exactly that. With it, I had a new identity and a new future I could shape. No longer would I be tied to that awful thirteenth of August. I would rise again, like a mighty phoenix birthed from its ashes. I would take to the sky and bring swift retribution to those who hurt me and my sisters.

  “Are you okay?” she said. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”

  I shifted my weight. Now that she mentioned it, emptying my stomach sounded like a half-decent idea. My now-spinning head didn’t help any either. “I’m fine,” I lied. “Nerves, I guess.”

  “You’ll be fine, my Little Boar.”

  “Please don’t call me that.”

  “I didn’t-”

  “No,” I said. My voice felt weak, and it could barely get by the lump in my throat. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand what was going on with me. I latched on to the one thing I thought it could be. “About this morning-”

  Klara closed the distance between us and held up her finger. “It was always your spot.”

  “You wanted it as much as I did. I don’t know if I deserve it more.”

  “If I’d taken your spot, Petrov would’ve taken you away,” she said. Her eyes misted, and she searched for somewhere to stuff her hands, but apparently, everywhere she put them wasn’t the right place. “At least this way you can still be alive, and we can still be friends. I don’t think I could live with myself knowing I was the reason I’d never see you again.”

  “You knew about that?”

  Klara nodded. “I pay attention.”

  “Did you drop on purpose?”

  She nodded again, but this time, she didn’t say anything.

  My knees weakened. I wasn’t sure what her actions meant, other than they were bigger than anything I could come up with. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want you to feel as if you didn’t earn it,” she replied. “I didn’t want to take that away from you.”

  “Then why are you telling me now?”

  “Because I don’t want you puking in my aircraft because you feel guilty,” she said. “It was my choice to fall, even if morally it was the wrong thing to do. Not exactly Soviet-like of me, was it? Anyway, you have no idea how hard it is to clean these cockpits.”

  Her explanation soothed me on some level, but I also felt heavily indebted to the woman. That wasn’t a bad thing as she was my friend, but I had no idea how I could repay her. She saved my life in more ways than one.

  Feeling better with the conversation behind us, I climbed into the cockpit and prepped for takeoff. But as I read each dial and checked all the gauges and switches, tension mounted in my chest. The sidewalls closed in on me, and the air became scorching. Sweat beaded on my forehead and ran down my back. Air hunger built in my lungs, and no matter
how large and fast of breaths I took, I couldn’t get enough.

  Klara grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me back into the seat. “Nadya. You’re okay.”

  I gritted my teeth and shut my eyes. The sequence of Martyona’s burning plane spiraling out of control played over and over in my mind with painful detail. I could hear the flames crackle, smell her burning flesh. My chest imploded as my heart broke each and every time I watched her smash into the ground.

  I shoved Klara away and unbuckled as fast as I could.

  “What are you doing?” she said, fighting with me over the seat belt. “You three are about to fly.”

  “Not me,” I said. The moment the words left me mouth, my heart slowed. It was the peace of Death settling over me, peace that only came when a loss was fully acknowledged. “I’m not flying. Never again.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Don’t be stupid, Nadya,” Klara shot back, eyes full of fire. “You’re flying. I gave up a dream for you. I won’t let you ruin my sacrifice.”

  Despite her short stature, she packed a lot of muscle in her lithe frame, and she kept me in my seat regardless of my attempts to get out. I shouldn’t have been surprised at her strength, given the sheer weight of all the equipment she had to lug around all day. Hell, the cylinders full of compressed air we used to start the planes were at least sixty kilos each.

  I gave up fighting her and slumped against the seat. “I can’t go. I’m a total wreck.”

  “You’re a fantastic pilot, Nadya,” she said. “Take a few deep breaths. It’s a panic attack. Nothing more.”

  “Maybe I’ll be better tomorrow, but not today.”

  Klara cackled like a mad woman. “Are you daft? You leave now and Kazarinova will never let you up again.”

  She had me there. Still, even though I was in the cockpit and talking to her, my mind continued to latch on to the final moments of my last sortie. “I can’t get her out of my mind,” I confessed. “All I see is pain, and terror, and Martyona dying over and over.”