by C. S. Taylor
I tucked my right arm against my midsection to fight the cold. This left me flying with my left hand, and it became obvious I couldn’t work the throttle and keep the plane level at the same time. I flew on with one hand, regardless, as my right was still too painful to use.
I crossed the Volga River, about a thousand meters above. Despite the darkness, I could still pick out the airfield. It was a blot of shadow with a smoother texture compared to the other black patches of landscape. Had we not trained for such things at night, I never would have been able to find it. A night landing still frightened me, however, and I found it funny that downing a bomber had been relatively easy, but coming home safely was anything but.
“Tower, this is Red Eight, requesting emergency clearance to land. I’m running hot,” I said.
“Runway is clear, Red Eight,” replied the tower. “You can light up on final.”
When I guessed I was two kilometers away, I made a couple of gentle, ninety-degree turns. The first put me on the base leg of my pattern, which ran perpendicular to the direction of the runway. The second put me on final approach and five hundred meters above the earth. At that point, I flipped the switch for my landing light and prayed ground control would see it well enough to direct me in.
“Heading looks good, Red Eight, but you’re low about fifty meters.”
I cursed under my breath and made the correction. At least the area had few obstacles and I was pointed in the right direction.
My plane slid to each side as I attempted to work the throttle with my left hand while keeping the stick in place with my knees to land. My fighter nearly snapped rolled into the ground, and I snatched the stick with my right hand to keep it steady. It felt like someone was twisting a blade deep in my wrist, but I held on to that stick as hard as I could.
As I touched down, a crosswind jostled my fighter. I tried to correct, but my arm didn’t respond fast enough. My wing tip dug into the runway, ripping metal and leaving a sickening crunch in my ears. I kicked my right pedal and pushed the stick hard to the side. The fighter bounced twice on its wheels before settling. I chopped the throttle and eased the brakes, careful not to hit them too hard and tip the plane over.
Once I stopped at the end of the runway, elation hit me. We did it! We shot down a bomber and sent the others running, hopefully with enough holes in them that some wouldn’t make it back home. On top of all that, I even managed to land with a crippled arm and not die. God, that was close. Had I been a little slower or in a little more pain, I don’t think I would have walked away from that landing. Next time I’d have to be more careful.
That’s when I realized winter was drawing near, and the real cold had yet to come.
I looked down at my hands and cried.
Chapter Twelve
The four of us, myself, Alexandra, Zhenia, and Valeriia, all stood in the command post, grinning ear to ear as Tamara finished our debriefing. Thankfully, I’d regained my composure before climbing out of the cockpit as I didn’t want Tamara questioning my fitness. Zhenia, on the other hand, still had puffy eyes from tears born from anger and frustration. Apparently, her guns had issues near the end of her flight, and two other bombers had gotten away from her that shouldn’t have. I probably would have come down bawling too if that had happened to me.
“To be clear,” Tamara said once she’d finished scribbling a few notes, “Valeriia, the Ju-88 you downed was the same one Nadya set alight?”
“Without a doubt, comrade major,” Valeriia replied.
“Do you feel she contributed to the kill?”
Valeriia looked over at me and smiled. “Nadya tore into it like a lioness on a gazelle. It might not have made it back regardless of my pass.”
My heart soared. I could be credited with half the kill the way this was going. We’d both be decorated, or at least recognized publicly, for earning the regiment’s first kill—a kill at night no less. Certainly it wouldn’t be as impressive if one of us had brought down an enemy plane unassisted, but-
Damn. My shoulders fell, as did my smile. “The fire wasn’t big,” I said. “It could have gone out.”
“Nadya, that’s nonsense,” Valeriia said.
“No, it’s not.”
Tamara eyed me with surprise. “I think she’s trying to share it with you,” she said. “There’s no need for modesty. You’ll both split the bounty.”
“Thank you, Major, but I stand by my words,” I said, fearing I’d hate myself the next day for giving it up. I knew I helped with the victory, but I didn’t finish the bomber off. It could have made it back, and moreover, I was content with my part and didn’t want false praise. “My part was small and the regiment’s first victory should go down as unassisted. Valeriia earned that honor far more than me. She deserves it.”
“So be it,” Tamara said as she jotted down more notes on an after-action report. “Since Nadya is pushing it, that’s how it will be recorded. Valeriia, congratulations on not only your first kill, but the first official kill of the 586th. You do us all proud.”
“Thank you, comrade major,” she said.
“That said, I’m changing statements,” Tamara said. “I don’t want any doubt this kill was Valeriia’s and Valeriia’s only. I’ll not have the boys thinking us girls need extra help. Nadya, Alexandra, you’re out. As far as anyone else knows from this day forward, Zhenia and Valeriia were the only ones up tonight. It’ll keep questions about who shot what at a minimum. Understood?”
We all nodded. Silently, I already questioned my actions. God, what had I been thinking? What if I never made another kill? What if my share of the two-thousand-ruble bounty was needed back home? Before I could think it through any further, Valeriia’s arms found my shoulders and neck and squeezed. My worries were swept away by a deluge of happiness. Bolstering our friendship was infinitely more important than some silly downed bomber. Besides, the only kill that mattered to me was Rademacher.
“Thank you, Nadya,” she said. “I’ll never forget this.”
Tamara filed the report away and sat behind her desk. “I’m giving the four of you the day off tomorrow. You’ve earned it. But be ready for action after that. It won’t be long before we’re moved closer to help keep Stalingrad clear of Luftwaffe. Brass doesn’t have a choice if they don’t want the city to fall.”
“It’s about damn time they committed us to the front,” Zhenia said. “Limited engagements aren’t doing the girls any good, and our boys on the ground are dying for more air cover.”
“Perhaps, but I’d still prefer everyone had more training,” Tamara replied. “That said, the war doesn’t care what I think. Now everyone go get some sleep. Nadya, I’d like you to stay a moment.”
The three other girls left after a short goodbye, which left me standing there, confused and worried as to why I’d been held back. “Is something wrong, comrade major?”
“I hope not, Nadya,” she replied. Her eyes held mine, and my soul shivered as if she could scrutinize its deepest secrets. “You’d tell me if there was, wouldn’t you?”
“Always.”
“Then what happened with your landing?”
I cursed in my head. Of course she knew. Everyone had to know by now as near wrecks fueled gossip like oil in a bonfire. “As I said in my report, the plane was running hot and I was afraid the engine would seize,” I said. “I came in faster and more worried than I should have. A crosswind caught me by surprise.”
“And you want me to believe battle damage was responsible for your takeoff as well?”
“No, comrade major,” I replied. “That was one hundred percent my fault. I spooked myself at launch. Never been fond of flying at night.”
Tamara sighed and shook her head. “That’s not a whole lot better than what I’m worried about. If the dark scares you, that doesn’t bode well for your future as a pilot.”
“It won’t happen again, comrade major,” I replied.
“How’s your hand? You’ve had it tucked across your stomach
since you came in.”
Damn. I thought it, but I didn’t say it. I don’t think I showed it either. I held it up and flexed it twice for her to see. “Still works,” I said. “It hurts now and again. I wouldn’t lie about that. But I can fly. I assure you. After all, I did light up that bomber.”
Tamara’s face softened, and for the first time in this conversation, I managed to relax—right up until she spoke again. “I appreciate your honesty, Nadya,” she said. “But all the same, with winter coming, I’m going to have to periodically evaluate your abilities. I don’t want the cold costing the regiment a plane and you your life.”
Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.
“Yes, comrade major,” I said with a rock-hard face. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“Very good, Nadya. You’re dismissed.”
Damn. Damn. Damn.
I nodded, went outside, and threw up.
* * *
The next morning the regiment celebrated Valeriia’s kill with vodka and watermelons. Alexandra enjoyed both, though she said she would’ve preferred wine, which wasn’t something we had lying around. I stuck to eating the treats, however, as the alcohol didn’t sit well with me.
Four days later, we were in the second week of fall, and the temperature during the night was close to freezing. I slept layered under blankets in my dugout, although a few times after the sunset I had to venture out on duties. Thankfully, they were of the logistic and briefing kind, and I hadn’t been pulled for another midnight watch. But I knew I would eventually, and I prayed I’d be able to do my duties when the time came.
On the morning of 30 September, I sat on my bed while Alexandra massaged my right wrist and forearm as she’d done for the last week. I don’t know if it gave any long-term benefits, but her help eased the pain for at least a few hours. As she worked on my burns, Zhenia sat nearby, studying the most recent reconnaissance maps and frequently pushing Bri off her lap.
“You should see the doctor about this,” Alexandra said, eyes focused on her work. “Every day you wince more.”
I grunted and scowled. “I saw him already. Besides, I’d rather swallow hot coals.”
“I don’t like him either, but you should try again. Maybe he’s got something new. Or I could write my father. Maybe he would know something that could help.”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
Alexandra stopped and looked at me with concern. “You’re not flying as well as you used to.”
My stomach turned. I knew I hadn’t been at the top of my game, but I had no idea it was so obvious to others. And if it was obvious to my fellow pilots, it was obvious to Tamara as well. Still, I dared to hope otherwise.
“Have I?” I said, feigning surprise and giving an awkward chuckle. “I didn’t think I was that bad.”
“I’ve seen first-time students wobble less,” Zhenia chimed in. “And yesterday you couldn’t stick on Alexandra’s tail to save your life. You used to be able to outfly her in your sleep.”
“Maybe I’m getting better,” Alexandra said, sticking out her tongue.
“You are,” Zhenia replied. “At the same time, she’s getting worse. Luftwaffe won’t cut us any slack.”
Zhenia didn’t look up from her maps for any of the exchange, and so I couldn’t get a read on her face. That heightened my paranoia. “If I don’t bounce back soon, I’ll see him,” I said, hoping to placate them both. “The massages are helping.”
I had no intentions of seeing the man. Thinking back to the day he suggested to give me morphine in exchange for . . . favors . . . still made me shudder. I continued hating him for ever trying such a thing, but I hated myself even more for keeping the offer tucked away as a last-ditch resort to retain my flight status. I’d do anything to stay a pilot, to redeem myself, to bring down Gerhard Rademacher, and I prayed I wouldn’t be forced to go through such humiliating lengths to do so.
“You okay?” Alexandra said.
“Quite,” I lied. “I was trying to remember when Valeriia was coming back.”
“From Moscow? In five more days, I think,” Zhenia replied. “She’ll probably sleep another three once she returns. I imagine they’re wearing her out parading her around as the next war hero, not to mention showing off her Order of the Red Banner. But I agree with Alexandra. You should get looked at.”
“Fine. If it’ll get the two of you off my back, I will. Any news from the front?” The first part was another lie, and the second was bait I hoped Zhenia would take so the subject would be dropped. To my relief, she did.
“We struck against the Romanians a few days ago. They’re keeping the flanks of the German assault on Stalingrad secure, but I think they’re the weak points.” She paused for a second to push Bri away for the umpteenth time. “The new Yak-9s and La-5s are also coming in.”
I perked, scooting to the edge of the bed. “Better fighters? Dare I hope we get them?”
Zhenia’s face twisted with irritation. “Don’t even dare to dream. The boys will be playing with them long before we do. Be glad you’re in a Yak and not the Kukuruzniks the girls in the 588th are stuck with. The top speed on those biplanes is slower than your stall point.”
From then on all talk of my wounds and the need to see the doctor vanished. Instead, we chatted about mundane things. Once Alexandra was done on my arm, I excused myself, saying I had some things I wanted to look at with my aircraft. What I said was true, to a degree, but I didn’t mind that neither wanted details nor offered to come with me. What I was actually doing was going to try and fix things with Klara, and I didn’t want an audience for when I ate humble pie.
I found Klara by my plane. She had the cowl off and was working on the engine. I know she saw me coming, but she kept her attention on her task at hand and didn’t acknowledge I was there until I spoke. “Do you have a minute?”
“I’m trying to get your plane serviced for tomorrow, comrade pilot,” she said. She threw me a passing glance as she traded a wrench for a screwdriver and sighed. “What?”
“I thought we could talk.”
“About?”
“The nose art you painted.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first. You made your point, and I’m okay with it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”
“Yes.”
She painted over the hurt I’d caused with a mask of indifference, and I knew she’d said such things because she had no other option. As I was an officer, she couldn’t let me have it for ruining her gift.
“I’m not okay with it,” I said. I took a tentative step toward her, unsure of how she’d react to what was about to be said. Hell, I didn’t know how I’d react either. “I should’ve been more appreciative, and I’m sorry.”
The screwdriver slipped from her grasp. It hit the ground with a quiet thud. She didn’t go after it. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I miss you,” I said. “I miss our chats. I miss you wishing me off each flight. I miss you ordering me to come back safely. We’ve drifted apart, and I hate it.”
“What’s done is done. There’s no changing the past.”
I shook my head. “No, there isn’t. But I was thinking maybe you could paint something else on the nose instead.”
Klara snorted as she picked up her dropped tool. “Something else? Like what? Whatever stupid bird Alexandra has picked out for you?”
“I’m no bird,” I said. I stuffed my hands into my pockets and stared out into the sky, feeling as if I were about to make confession to a priest. “I’m a stubborn, stupid, little boar that’s deadly to friendships.”
“At least you’re honest about it.”
I caught her smiling back at me, and couldn’t help but grin as well. “Am I forgiven?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “What do you want painted? I don’t want to make an effort to give you something again and you throw it in my face.”
I wanted to ask for the iconic cross from the Knights Hospitaller. I’d a
lways admired their tenacity and dedication to the Living God, but I didn’t think she’d paint it as she had less room for religion than Alexandra had. Furthermore, a cross would attract unwanted attention, from Petrov especially. Shame clawed at my heart as I continued to hide such an important facet of my being, but what could I do?
“I was thinking about another boar,” I said, “but not so cartoony. Have you seen what the Americans have done with their P-40s? They paint shark teeth on the lower cowl. Could you do something similar, but with razor-sharp tusks coming out?”
“You want something fierce.”
“And deadly,” I said. “Something to strike fear in the fascists every time they see it. I want them to know exactly who shot them down every time.”
Klara laughed, and for the first time in our encounter, she felt close again. “Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you? You haven’t even gotten your first kill yet. Besides, I thought you said you didn’t want to be noticed up there.”
“I changed my mind,” I replied. “And I’ll get my first kill soon enough. Once I get enough of them, Martyona’s killer will come looking for me.”
Her face grew somber. “So this isn’t about you wanting to make amends. I guess it’s true. Only the grave will cure a hunchback.”
I took hold of her hands. They were slick and covered in oil. “I’m making amends. I swear. The last bit is an added bonus.” When she hesitated, I said the first thing that came to mind. “You asked me to come back to you. Here I am. It took me longer than it should have, but I’m not going anywhere. Never again.”
Klara stepped away. “I’m glad, but . . .”
“But what?”
“But I don’t want to get attached to you again,” she said. “Not yet at least.”
“I’ll earn your trust then if I must.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I overheard Kazarinova talking. She’s grounding you on account of your burns and performance lately. Once she does, you’ll be gone, and I’ll be alone.”