Nadya's War

by C. S. Taylor

  I growled and wished I was the kind of person who would drive a fist into her teeth. I wasn’t that brave. So I did the next best thing. I let my tongue loose. “At least I’m a flying Cossack and not some bitter cripple stuck on the ground.”

  Chapter Ten

  Tamara hit me in the side of the head with a right cross. I remember that much. The next thing I knew I was on my back, staring at the box’s wood ceiling. It seemed damper than last time I saw it, but I was having trouble focusing and hoped it wasn’t a head injury causing the new look. Alexandra was kneeling at my side, stroking the top of my head and singing a lullaby. She was so out of tune, I wanted to jab a screwdriver through my eardrums.

  “That must have been some blow,” she said, stopping everything she was doing. “Maybe you should have the doctor come.”

  “No,” I said, sitting up. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You don’t look fine. You look worse than my brother when he got kicked by a mule.”

  “Well, if I blackout again you can call him.” I groaned as I touched a tender knot on the back of my head and again when I felt the side of my face. While I had doubts about my own prognosis, Doctor Ivan was not someone I wanted giving me a physical. “How long was I out for?”

  “Long enough to make me worry,” she replied. “She hit you. You hit the floor. They dumped you here.”

  “Do they know you’re visiting? If they catch you here, you’ll be in trouble too.”

  Alexandra grinned. “I’m not a visitor.”

  I couldn’t help but giggle like a schoolgirl who’d gotten trouble with a best friend. “What did you do?”

  She shrugged sheepishly. “When she socked you, I had a few choice words for her. I think it redirected some of her rage at you to me. Valeriia let fly, too, but more respectfully than I’d managed.”

  “Sorry.”

  Alexandra shook her head. “Don’t be. I owe you my life. Sharing the box with you for a few days is the least I can do, especially if it means you not being sent away.”

  “Away where?”

  She shrugged. “Nowhere good, I imagine. Kazarinova’s first words when you hit the floor were something about you never flying again. That’s when I had to set things straight.”

  My thoughts ran in a thousand directions. I wanted to dig more into what Tamara had said, but I feared my imagination paled to whatever she wanted to do to me. And all of this started from a dogfight that instead of being a celebratory one had made things worse.

  “That was a huge risk you took when we were fighting,” I said. “I could have missed.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “But I could have,” I said with a bite. My shoulders slumped, and I exhaled. “I’m sorry for snapping, but if he’d got you before I cleared your tail, I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself.”

  “I wouldn’t have been able to live at all,” she said with a grin.

  “Not funny.”

  Alexandra tilted her head. “Why don’t you trust yourself more?”

  “Why do you trust me at all?” I asked while brushing the dirt off my back and shoulders.

  She laughed as if the answer was obvious. “Because you’re one of the few women here out of thousands and thousands who wanted to be a fighter pilot. That must mean you’re an amazing flyer.”

  I was a capable flyer, yes, but this last month had taught me learning acrobatics in a flying club and surviving combat were completely different animals. I did appreciate her faith in me, and her sincerity helped. “Still, I should have been torn apart at the end.”

  “Because they snuck up on us afterward? You still slipped away.”

  Her words, though an attempt at comfort, shivered my soul. “I didn’t slip away,” I said. “That ace—the one who shot down Martyona—let me go.”

  “Only because he couldn’t catch you. You fly better than you give yourself credit for.”

  “No. I ditched his wingman, but he came along side me before saluting and peeling off. He could’ve had a letter sent to my parents if he wanted.”

  Alexandra’s face paled. “Why do you think he didn’t shoot?”

  I shrugged. “I think it would be easier to bite your own elbow than understand the twisted mind of such a man. I considered his guns might have jammed, but that’s too convenient of an answer. The man must be toying with me.”

  “To what end?”

  I shrugged again. “No idea.” A headache formed, and I rubbed my temples. “I’d rather not think about it anymore. It’s not helping my mood, and I’m still irritated Tamara didn’t give me that kill.”

  Alexandra beamed as if she’d stumbled on a mine full of diamonds. “I have the perfect fix, if you’re interested.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How about a dance?” she asked. “Always makes me feel better.”

  “Do you waltz?”

  “Is Kazarinova a bitter cripple stuck on the ground?”

  I laughed, hard. Before I could say anything, there was a heavy thud on the door, and the same guard from before appeared in the window. “Shut up and stand up.”

  I took to my feet without word, though Alexandra and I shared glances and stifled giggles. Maybe it was the absurdity of it all or the delirium from being tired and beaten, but whatever it was, I couldn’t help but find the entire ordeal hilarious.

  The guard turned away, and Alexandra nudged me with her elbow. “We should waltz out of here when they let us go,” she whispered. “Imagine their faces if we did.”

  “I can imagine us getting flogged for it,” I said. The corners of my mouth drew back and I gave a curtsy. “But I can think of nothing lovelier than if we did.”

  * * *

  Days came and went. We were supposed to have been cut free after a full day, but Tamara caught us both laughing and enjoying ourselves far too much that second morning and gave us another forty-eight hours to think about life, our contribution to the war, and whether or not we wanted to stay assigned to the fighter regiment. I’m sure she wished she had another cell so she could separate us, but this was the only one at the base.

  From the time she left, we played our part, and we played it well. Whenever the guards looked in on us, we kept straight and somber faces. The reality was, however, we both became exceptional at keeping our eyes on the door, looking for any stray shadow or sign of movement, all the while entertaining ourselves to no end during the day. And for an hour or two at night, we waltzed in the dark, taking care to avoid the small sliver of light from outside and letting our bodies relish the movement.

  Alexandra was a fantastic dancer. She kept a perfect rhythm and never once had a misstep or lost her balance, despite our pitch-black surroundings. She made me take the lead, insisting it was proper since I was the wing leader. It was a little awkward, given she was taller and larger than me. I was jealous of the latter, as it was clear she’d eaten well all her life. I kept those thoughts to myself, and we stopped when exhaustion took over or the cold made my hands unbearable, at which point she’d massage them enough for me to fall asleep.

  Without a doubt, I would’ve preferred my freedom those three days. Alexandra’s company, however, made the experience pleasant enough, and when Tamara walked into our cell on the third day to release us, a small part of me was sad the private bonding time I’d had with my new wingman was coming to an end.

  Tamara looked us over, and once she’d sent the guard away, she addressed me. “I believe you have something to say.”

  “Comrade major?” I said, caught off guard. Tamara stared at me expectantly, and it clicked a second later. “I do,” I said, straightening. “My behavior was uncalled for, comrade major, and any punishment was both fitted and warranted. I hope my actions will not adversely affect my flight status.”

  I’m not sure how much I believed those words, but they rolled off my tongue enough to sound sincere. I did want to get back in the air.

  “And you?” Tamara said, turning to Alexandra.

&n
bsp; “The same, comrade major,” she said, lighter than I had. “I spoke in the heat of the moment, as Nadya had just saved my life.”

  “I’m aware of that,” she said. She looked over her shoulder, I’m guessing to ensure no one was around, and then came back to the conversation with quieter tones. “I know you’re frustrated, Nadya. When I couldn’t reliably fly in combat, I was nearly robbed of my command, and it still angers me to this day.”

  “I had no idea.”

  She gave a half smile. “You suspected,” she said, and she was right. Everyone did. Her limp was obvious, and aside from the occasional, non-combat flight, she never took a plane up. “That said, I won’t tolerate insubordination, no matter how much we may have in common. You’re both out of second chances from now on. I will replace you and strip you of rank. Understood?”

  “Yes, comrade major,” we replied in unison.

  Tamara sighed and shook her head. Her posture foretold of the disappointment in her voice that came after. “I wanted to give you that kill, Nadya, just like I wanted to give one to Martyona.”

  “You still can,” I said, hoping I wasn’t stepping over any lines.

  “No, I can’t.” she said. Her brow lowered and she grunted. “The 586th is under terrible scrutiny. The boys think we can’t fly, and we’re a joke. Whoever gets awarded the first kill is going to be examined like no other. Every aspect of every report has to be perfect, understand? There can be no question whatsoever.”

  I couldn’t doubt the sincerity in her voice, but I had a hard time wrapping my head around her words. “Surely everyone wants us to succeed,” I said. “Who would try to discredit our regiment?”

  Tamara snorted. “They already have. Did you hear what happened with Liliia yesterday?”

  I shook my head. Obviously being stuck in the box, Alexandra and I hadn’t heard anything. I didn’t think it wise to point that out to Tamara.

  “She shot down two planes over Stalingrad,” she said. I could hear it in her voice. She was both proud and disgusted. “Two planes! A Ju-88 bomber and a Messerschmitt fighter. Can you imagine?”

  “That should be a good thing, no?” Alexandra said.

  Her words mirrored my thoughts. “I don’t understand why that’s an issue for us. Good for her.”

  “Yes, good for her,” Tamara replied. “Liliia is now the first female pilot in the country to earn a kill. But did they credit us? Did they award those victories to her regiment?”

  I knew the answer. We both did. Tamara’s passion seeped into my blood. “Who else would they give it to?”

  “They awarded credit to the 437th,” Tamara said, hitching a thumb south. “Not to us. To them. To that stupid, male regiment that begged us for help.”

  “Bastards,” Alexandra said. “All of them.”

  I arched an eyebrow at my wingman’s remark. Her words should never have been said about top brass, but in this personal moment shared between the three of us, a large part of me was glad she did. I hoped Tamara felt the same.

  “Exactly,” Tamara said. “So you understand that I have to run things tight. I can’t cut corners. I can’t award probable kills, especially for the unit’s official first.”

  I nodded solemnly. The idea of me being a pilot equal to a male, dulled. “I understand. Thank you for telling me, and I’m sorry I’ve been pig headed.”

  Tamara shook her head one last time and then straightened her uniform. “We can only move forward at this point,” she said. “There’s one more thing I should tell you. We’ve identified the ace you encountered with Martyona. His name is Gerhard Rademacher, and he’s part of Jagdgeschwader Udet. That unit has claimed two thousand victories now. They are not a foe to underestimate.”

  “Damn,” was all I managed to get out. I appreciated having a name to attach to the plane Yellow Eight, but the total kill count of the unit was something I could have done without. Their experience against our lack thereof almost guaranteed we’d be on the wrong end of the shooting gallery whenever we met. No wonder Tamara hadn’t thought we were ready before.

  “He’s a dangerous adversary, but not an immortal one. If you focus on your training and work together, I’m confident you can bring him down,” she said. “Now get out of here. You’re on flight rotations for four days starting tomorrow.”

  Alexandra looked at me, grinning, and held out an expectant hand. I took it with my left hand and put my right along the small of her back as she put hers up on my shoulder. “And here I thought you’d forgotten,” she said.

  “You are not dancing out of my box,” Tamara said. She tried to be stern in it, but her amused face belied her cutting tone. When the two of us looked at her, poised like toddlers testing their parents, she cleared her throat and found her unyielding look. “I mean it,” she said. “Save it for the airfield, but if you waltz out of this box, you’ll be waltzing to the penal brigade before the day is up.”

  I let Alexandra go. We’d flirted with disaster enough. “On the airfield,” I said to her.

  Alexandra nodded and smiled back. “On the airfield.”

  We didn’t wait until the airfield, but we did wait until we were far enough away from Tamara and the box that it didn’t come across as insulting to our commanding officer. We made a run to the mess hall for breakfast, which we knew would still have some scraps left over from the morning line. When we reached its doors, we waltzed in, guzzled frigid water and tore into stale hunks of bread, and waltzed out. Some of the other girls lingering inside looked at us as if we’d come out of an asylum while others seemed to find our antics funny.

  We were halfway down the airstrip when an infamous voice from behind stopped my heart and me dead in my tracks. “Tsk. Tsk. Nadya. Mouthing off to a commanding officer like that. You’re making this too easy.”

  I turned to find Petrov standing nearby. He had a long combat knife with a black handle and an S-shaped guard in one hand, and in the other he lightly tossed an apricot. “I thought you were in Stalingrad,” I said, my eyes never leaving the point of his blade.

  “I was in Stalingrad, but now I’m here,” he said. “And I’ll be staying until I get what I want.”

  “More apricots?” Alexandra said, taking my arm. “My mother makes a fantastic apricot pie. I could see how you’d want them.”

  I shouldn’t have cracked a smile at her smartass comment, but I couldn’t help it. Sadly, her moment of levity was short lived.

  “All I need is one,” he said, slowly digging his knife into the fruit. “I intend on splitting it open so everyone can see exactly what it hides.” He sheathed his blade and pulled the apricot in two. Its seed fell to the ground, and he then dropped the halves. “It’s easy to get to the center when you know where to cut, isn’t it? I wonder how long the flesh will take to rot.”

  I didn’t have an answer or anything remotely snappy as a reply. Alexandra tightened her grip on my arm, telling me she didn’t either. Thankfully, Petrov left without further word, but my skin still crawled from the encounter.

  “Do you think he’s here to stay?” Alexandra asked.

  “Yes,” I replied. “He was too sure of himself.”

  “Maybe Kazarinova can help.”

  “Maybe, but I fear the only thing I can do is pray something else gets his attention.”

  We started walking again, heading toward the fighters parked on the ground. About a dozen meters from the nearest plane, Klara spotted us. She dropped a belt of machine-gun ammunition off her shoulder and came barreling toward me.

  “Shut your eyes, Nadya,” she said, trying to cover my face with her hands. “I swear, if you spoil the surprise I’ll clobber you with a wrench.”

  “Okay bossy lady, they’re shut!” I said, happily following her orders. Her energy and upbeat attitude pushed all thoughts of Petrov from my mind. Next thing I knew, I had a dirty rag around my face that acted as a blindfold. “God, Klara. This thing smells terrible.”

  “And you smell about as good as my little nephew’s dia
per,” she said, taking my hand and leading me away. “I suspect that’s right for another three days in the box. I can’t believe you said that to her.”

  “Me either,” I said with a laugh. “You should’ve seen her face when I did.”

  “I can imagine. For the record, I would have sent you away for a week and stripped you of rank.”

  Klara’s sudden seriousness put me on edge, and I half entertained the idea her surprise wasn’t a good one, probably due to my recent encounter with Petrov. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Alexandra cleared her throat behind me. “Since I’m still here, are you going to introduce us, or do you want to continue being rude?”

  “Sorry, yes,” I said. “Klara, my mechanic, meet Alexandra, my wingman.”

  “You’re the one Nadya saved,” Klara said, sounding impressed.

  “I am. She’s quite the shot.”

  “So I’ve heard. It’s all everyone’s been talking about. Well, that and Liliia shooting down a pair of fascists.” Klara grabbed me by the shoulders and manhandled me into place. “Okay. This is it.”

  I smiled when she let out an excited little eep as she untied my blindfold. I had to blink a few times to square my eyes against the sun, but once they adjusted and I saw what she’d brought me to, words failed me.

  A small, cartoon boar was painted on the side of my fighter’s nose. It was charging forward, head down, tusks leading the way and dust trailing behind. That was cute, likeable even, but inscribed around it were the words, “Fighting for country and Stalin.” My stomach tightened, and had there been a bucket of paint nearby, I would have tossed it all at the wretched thing. Though I was fighting in that man’s air force, I would never fight for him. I fought for myself, my own kinsmen, and my own land. Not some paranoid, power-thirsty madman with the blood of countless innocents on his hands.

  “Isn’t it great?” Klara said, hanging off my arm. “I had a lot less to do the last few days since your plane wasn’t going anywhere.”

  Thankfully, Alexandra spoke first. “It’s a boar.”