Nadya's War
Page 8
“Find something beautiful about it.”
The unexpected response snapped me back into the moment, and for what felt like forever, I stared at her, thinking she had to be making an awful joke. “You can’t be serious.”
Her eyes told me she was. “There’s beauty in every moment,” she said. “If you can find it, you can survive it, react to it.”
“Are you sick? There’s nothing beautiful about watching someone burn to death,” I said with venom.
“Not in her death, no,” she said, quietly. “But there can be colors you like, maybe the way the wind felt if it was cool. Maybe grab on to the fact she stuck with you until the end.”
“She did do that,” I said, my voice trailing. Though it was a sliver of light in an otherwise pitch-black moment in my life, to focus on that and nothing else felt like I was cheapening things, as if I were pretending it never happened, or worse, she wasn’t worthy of being grieved over. And if I convinced myself of that, I feared one day I’d forget her completely.
Klara took her hand off my shoulder and eased away. “It still hurts, I know,” she said. “But you’re already better. I can see it.”
The tremble in my hands lessened, and I could think clearly enough to takeoff. “Clear the propeller.”
Klara leaned in and gave a brief hug. “Come back to me safe, Nadya.”
I smiled at our ritual. In my panicked state, that was something beautiful to cling to, a friend at my side. She dropped down, and I started the engine.
A few short minutes later, I was cruising my fighter a thousand meters over the landscape. Valeriia had the lead, and the new girl, Alexandra, flew on the opposite side of me in our V-formation.
Even though all three of our planes had two-way radios—something I was grateful for this time around—the three of us spoke little during the flight. Valeriia gave the occasional altitude and heading adjustments, and Alexandra gave the acknowledging reply. I think astonishment that I was actually up in the air kept me quiet more than anything else.
The rendezvous with our VIP near Tolyatti occurred without a hitch. The major was being flown in a PS-84 transport craft, which was an American DC-3 built in a Russian factory. Its fat, white fuselage and giant wings made it an easy target should it ever fall prey to the fascists, and the lack of defensive armament demanded an escort at all times. But neither machine guns nor fighters were required to see the plane safely to Kazan. We landed at the city without incident, and after we refueled, I dared to think this would be an uneventful day.
That changed when we returned home, refueled, and launched again.
“Tighten it up, ladies,” Valeriia said once we were in formation. “We’re going hunting.”
I knew this day would come, but as we climbed thousands of meters above the earth, I wished it would have come later rather than sooner. Valeriia’s plan was to head southwest, patrol along the Don, and refuel at a secondary airfield before coming home. For anyone else, it would have been a standard—though extended—mission. For me, however, it felt like the same, ill-fated flight Martyona had taken me on.
As we flew, I checked my six and scoured the sky for any sign of the Luftwaffe. Thankfully, the clouds were few and we could see all around us. The tips of my fingers went numb in the cold, and my arms ached. I alternated sitting on each hand to try and warm them up, but it didn’t help. The more we traveled, the worse the pain grew, and the more it grew, the more I feared I’d get Valeriia and Alexandra killed by not being able to fly. I wanted to dive away and run from this stupid war.
I snorted, disgusted with myself for such thoughts. I could hear my grandmother now, telling me over and over how God saved me, put me back in the pilot seat for a reason, and all I had to do was trust in His plan. Years ago I wouldn’t have questioned such beliefs—even a few months ago. Yet here I was, barely able to function, wondering how terrible things were about to become and how ridiculous it was to think any of it was part of some grand scheme.
“Contacts, ten o’clock low,” Valeriia said. “Looks like a flight of three Stukas.”
“Vis,” Alexandra replied. “I see two escorts above them, five hundred meters.”
“God, don’t let this turn out like last time,” I whispered, leaning forward for a better view.
The pair of Messers flying escort had their unmistakable bright yellow noses that somehow felt brighter and angrier than last time I’d seen them. The Stukas that were under their protection were single-engine dive bombers, painted an olive green with an inverted gull-wing design. The planes were known to be slow and able to take a beating, but they were most famous for their sirens’ wail during an attack. I’d never heard one, but from all accounts, the noise terrified those on the ground, for it meant hundreds of kilos worth of explosives were being dropped.
“Nadya, do you see them?” Valeriia said.
“Copy. I have vis.”
“Alexandra, hit the bombers and stay fast,” she ordered. “Get them to jettison their loads. Nadya, you’re on the 109 on the right. I’ll take the left. Diving runs only. I don’t want anyone bleeding speed in a turn.”
Valeriia rolled into a dive, and the two of us followed. My fighter cut through the sky as it dove toward our prey. I sighted my enemy and prayed he would remain oblivious to our presence. Though I was too far to see his number, I wondered if the man I was attacking was Yellow Eight and if this would be the day my metamorphosis from failure to avenger would be complete. As hopeful as I was, I was equally terrified it was him and this flight would end worse than my last on account of how many kills he had to his name.
Four hundred meters away from the Messer, I eased my thumbs over the triggers. At three hundred, eagerness at my first kill took over, and I fired.
Tracers flew from the barrels of both machine guns and my 20mm cannon. My rounds zipped harmlessly through the sky. I’d given too much lead. The Messer jumped to the side, dodging my aim. I swore as I pulled the stick back and climbed into the sky to set up for another pass. I looked over my shoulder to see what my opponent was doing. He’d already brought his plane back on course, but he couldn’t take a shot. I was too high and too far for him to risk it. If he nosed up, he’d lose speed, and when he lost that, he’d be picked apart by the three of us, exactly how those fascist bastards had picked apart Martyona.
“Good job, Nadya,” Valeriia said. “Bring it around and keep them busy.”
Though I’d blown the attack, I smiled at her praise. It was nice to have a voice complementing rather than criticizing me. “Pulling into a hammerhead now.”
At my command, my Yak-1 pointed its nose at the heavens and climbed until it ran out of speed. The plane shuddered as the engine could no longer hold it in the air, at which point, my fighter stalled. I kicked my pedals, giving maximum left rudder. The nose of my craft slid sideways, allowing the engine to pull the plane nose first toward the ground.
It was a suicidal maneuver if someone had sights on you, for it left you as a fixed target hanging in the sky. Our enemies, however, were over a thousand meters below and had no hope of getting a shot on me. Thus, they could only watch in fear, I hoped, as I set up for another diving pass.
I didn’t wait as long as I had on my first attack to open fire. Once I lined up my target, I let loose with both machine guns. I didn’t expect a kill, but I wanted him to stay on the defensive and force him to roll out of the way, which he did. Seeing pieces of metal fly from his left wing was an added bonus.
“No tight turns, Alexandra!” Valeriia yelled. “That’s an order.”
“They haven’t jettisoned any bombs,” she protested. “I need to put more pressure on them.”
I couldn’t see her until I’d climbed and rolled my plane upside down. Alexandra was in the middle of a high-G yo-yo, a maneuver where a pilot follows a slower, tighter-turning plane in a curve by combining a steep climb with a sharp turn. It’s done to keep from overshooting a target and to conserve as much total energy as possible, but it still b
leeds speed.
The Messer I was responsible for banked right, setting himself up to intercept Alexandra’s attack. I slammed the throttle forward to the stop and dove. “My guy is setting up on you!” I yelled, machine guns blazing.
I didn’t ease off the trigger until I blew past the Stukas and started climbing once more. Tracers flew past my cockpit. When I looked behind me, I saw all three Stuka tail gunners firing on me.
“Alexandra, make another pass,” Valeriia called out. “Nadya, clear her six when that fighter moves in on her.”
I craned my head back, searching the sky for Alexandra. Valeriia kept the other German fighter on the defensive, circling above him, making feints and snapshots as she could. I pulled back on the stick, rocketing my plane upward for a better view of the battle below.
I found Alexandra barreling through the Stuka formation with the fury of a Valkyrie, machine guns and cannons blazing. Her rounds punched through a wing on one of the trailing bombers. Brown mist poured from the damage, and the Stuka fell out of the group. I screamed in delight as three bombs dropped from its fuselage a split second later.
“One jettisoned,” Alexandra said as she peeled her plane left and entered a shallow dive. Unlike my own ecstatic state, she sounded calm, as if she’d done this a thousand times over. “Now if you’d rid me of this 109, I’ll get you a nice bar of chocolate.”
The German fighter followed her, and I pulled on the stick for all I was worth. Lightning shot through my arms, and I clenched my jaw as tight as I could to stave off the pain and keep from blacking out. When I let go, I was trailing both Alexandra and the Messer by at least four hundred meters.
“I’m too far to make a shot,” I said. “If you circle, I might be able to get him in the turn.”
“I’ll do you one better,” Alexandra said. “I’ll set him up for the perfect kill.”
My brow knitted. I wasn’t sure what she was about to do. Then I saw her drag the fighter into a tight U-turn before shooting upward. My mouth ran dry. She was flying a hammerhead, and the enemy fighter was following her into it. They’d both be helpless in the sky. The question was, who would be shot down, Alexandra or the Messer?
Time slowed, and I held my breath. My heart thundered in my chest. My vision tunneled to where all I could see was the perfect image of the German fighter in my gun sight, climbing, aiming . . . stalling.
My heart prayed for guidance as my thumbs hit the triggers. Once again, the nose of my plane erupted with flame and smoke. Tracers slammed into the enemy fighter with bright flashes of light, tearing large chunks off its skin and internals. Black smoke poured from its engine, and I exhaled.
“Nadya, I love you!” Alexandra yelled.
Her exuberance filled me with pride, and I’m sure my face glowed brighter than any halo. “Circle back,” I said, forcing myself to abandon the celebration and refocus on the mission. “There are still more.”
“Negative,” Valeriia said. “They’re running. Form on me. We’re leaving.”
Perplexed at the order, I put my plane into a lazy circle and watched with an equal mix of frustration and disappointment as the German planes ran to the west, including the one smoking like a chimney. Though I knew it wouldn’t last, I wanted the others, too. “We could chase them down.”
“Negative. I’m low ammunition,” Valeriia replied. “And despite what brass says are sound tactics, I have no intention of running this plane into another when my guns are dry. Besides, you’ll be famous when we get home, Nadya. You scored not only your first kill, but the first victory for the entire regiment. You should be eager to get back.”
I sank back in my seat and turned her words over. I didn’t need the fame coming, but I was excited to write home and let them know what I’d done. Father would be proud of me, and I certainly would appreciate the acknowledgement by others that I was a damn good pilot. If I got enough of it, I thought I might believe it myself.
We cruised back to Anisovka, a few thousand meters high. We’d barely left the Don behind us when I heard the light thumping of rounds hitting my plane and saw tracers zip over my canopy.
“Break!” I yelled, instinctively I jamming my stick forward and putting the plane in a steep dive. My body lifted off the seat and my belt cut into the tops of my thighs. Plummeting toward the earth, I looked over my shoulder and saw two Messers hot my tail. We’d gotten sloppy with excitement and never saw them making the intercept.
“Nadya where are you?”
Valeriia sounded stressed, but at least she wasn’t calling for help. Maybe these two were the only Messers around.
“Diving northwest,” I said. I banked right, two thousand meters and falling, and made such a hard reversal that I knocked my head on the side of the canopy. I pulled out of the dive and checked my six, praying I’d thrown my enemies off my tail. I saw one extending away from me, but the other was unaccounted for. I weaved left and right a couple more times and wondered where he’d gone.
“Nadya, we’re clear up here,” Valeriia said. “Head northeast and we’ll regroup.”
I turned back toward my flight, and as I did a Messer dropped from the sky and saddled up next to me. There couldn’t have been room for more than a single train car between our wingtips. I stared at the 109 in shock, and felt my mouth hang open when I spied the bright yellow eight painted on its tail.
“What the hell do you want from me?” I yelled, smacking the canopy as hard as I could.
The pilot waggled the wings to his plane and followed it up with a salute before peeling away, leaving me feeling confused and helpless all the way home.
* * *
“You can’t be serious!” I shouted. Tamara stood a pace away in the command post, scowling. Her skin was flush, and her jaw set. I didn’t care.
“This is your one and only warning, Nadya,” she replied, leveling a finger at me. “I will throw you back in the box. I don’t care how many pilots I need.”
“I saw the shot firsthand, comrade major,” Alexandra said. “She tore him apart and saved my life.”
I turned and beamed at my newly found friend. Alexandra stood next me, her posture relaxed and her hands stuffed in her pockets. Other than her black hair parted down the middle and wrapped snugly in a bun, there wasn’t a tight thing about her. I was astounded at her care-free attitude and wondered if it would work against me as Tamara always commanded with strict discipline, but at the moment, I didn’t care. Someone was fighting for me, someone who didn’t want to see me robbed of my accomplishments. “See?” I said. “There’s your verification right there.”
Tamara grunted with indifference. “You didn’t see the plane crash, did you?”
“No, comrade major,” Alexandra replied.
“Nor did you see the plane catch fire or the pilot bail out.”
“No, comrade major.”
My hands balled into fists at my side. “The plane was smoking worse than a barn fire,” I said. “There’s no way it didn’t go down.”
“I’m sorry, Nadya,” Tamara said, and for the first time since we started this conversation, I thought I heard some regret in her voice, though there wasn’t a hint of it in her posture. “If no one saw the plane crash or the pilot hit the silk, the best I can say is it was damaged. If our boys on the ground find the wreckage, then that will change. I’ll even see to it you get your bonus.”
“Bonus? What bonus?”
“There’s a thousand-ruble bounty on fighter kills,” she said. “Two thousand for bombers. I’m not saying you’re lying, but there are some who would for the money alone.”
A thousand rubles. God, what would I do with that? Send it home, I wagered, maybe donate some as well, but not before I bought some chocolate and a nice bottle of wine. Sadly, those were both luxury items and cost a fortune themselves. I stopped daydreaming when I realized I didn’t want the money. “Keep the bounty,” I said. “I want credit for the kill. That’s all.”
“No, Nadya. My decision stands.”
“I’m glad you’re alive, but war isn’t fair and hopefully this will be a lesson on always watching your six,” Tamara said, taking a seat behind her desk and pulling the night’s scheduled assignments from a nearby folder. “Go rest. I’ll be pairing you and Alexandra together from here on out. If it’s any consolation, I’m sure the two of you will bring down another fighter. You two work well together.”
At this point I knew the conversation was over and that fueled my frustrations. I deserved that kill. I needed it. Not for my ego, but for my sanity. I had to show the world—myself—Martyona hadn’t died in vain and had saved someone who could do more than get shot down. “I don’t want a consolation. I want that kill, and I want the victory painted on my plane.”
Tamara slammed the desk with both hands and shot up from her seat. “You had your damn warning, Nadya. You’re spending the night in the box.”
I stood there, gaping at her, not so much because she’d come down on me, but because she was being so stubborn about it all. It was one lousy kill. “Why are you doing this to me?” I said. “Is it the end of the world if you credit me with a downed German?”
“First of all, I don’t have to justify myself to you,” she said, walking up to me and jabbing two fingers into my chest. “But to shut you up, it’s protocol, and everyone has to play by the same rules. If it’s not confirmed, it doesn’t count.”
“Or maybe you’re jealous I’m flying after my injuries and you’re not.”
Tamara’s jaw dropped almost as far as Alexandra’s did. Both of them looked as if they’d been clipped in the head by a wing tip, totally stupefied. Tamara was the first to regain her composure. “God, Nadya, you just don’t learn, do you?” she said. “You really are a dumb Cossack.”