by C. S. Taylor
We entered the command post and from a corner drawer, Gridnev grabbed and threw a cotton rag at me. “Keep pressure on it.”
“Should I see the doctor about it, comrade major?” I asked while doing as told.
“You tell me,” he said. “You said you were fine.”
The side of my head warmed, and I wondered how much it was going to affect a chance at a good night’s rest. However, I wanted the injury to be seen as lightly as possible for Klara’s sake. “It can wait, I think,” I replied. “But maybe if I have some time after we’re done here I’ll still have him take a look.”
“Fine,” he said, plopping down behind his desk. He didn’t ask me to sit, which I took to be a bad omen. “What the hell was that about?”
“She was upset I didn’t let her know I was okay after coming back yesterday,” I explained, trying my best to find a way to put the entire encounter in a positive light. I was navigating tricky waters here, I knew. “She left and I grabbed her to finish the conversation. When I spun her around, the wrench went flying and found my face.”
Gridnev crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “So she was insubordinate.”
I shook my head, even though I’m certain we both knew he was right. “She was hurt.”
“And she lost her bearing, Junior Lieutenant,” he said. “We have rules and order for a reason. Or do you disagree?”
“No, comrade major,” I said. “I don’t disagree. People do things when they are scared and worried that they wouldn’t normally do.”
“Box, nonetheless.”
I shook my head and cursed under my breath. Though I knew he was aware of both, thankfully, he said nothing. “If I may ask, for how long?”
Gridnev chuckled. “A day. I’ll tell her a week, and you’ll not say otherwise. But the truth is, I can’t lock up a mechanic for long and expect the regiment to be combat ready.”
I relaxed. Hopefully that meant his anger was for show and this would blow over soon. “Is there anything else, comrade major?”
“You also need to address that kiss.”
My hopes for a quick and easy dismissal were shattered. “I don’t know what to say,” I replied. “It was unplanned. I was a little dazed, and it seemed funny.”
“Was it?”
Deep down, it wasn’t funny. It was hysterical. I could barely hold a straight face thinking about the shock I gave her pulling her from violence to tenderness. But I couldn’t say that and expect things to go well, so I lied. “No, comrade major.”
“Are you two having any sort of relationship other than professional?”
I could feel my face contort in shock. “Of course not, comrade major,” I said. “I’ve never even considered it.”
“That’s not an ‘of course not’ question,” he said, leveling a finger at me. “I’m giving you a chance to come clean. If you are, I’ll sweep it under the rug and transfer one of you to a different regiment since I’m more interested in killing Germans than I am anything else. If I find out you’re lying later on, I’ll have no choice other than to call in a commissar for an investigation. If you’re engaged in immoral and deceitful behavior, who knows what else you’re involved with. Do I make myself clear?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yes, comrade major. It was bad judgment on my end. Nothing more.”
“You’re damn right it was,” he said. “From here on out, the two of you will not engage in anything that could be construed as fraternizing between an officer and an enlisted member. Understood?”
I nodded. What else could I do? “Of course, comrade major.”
“You girls will be the death of me, I swear,” he said, sighing. The tension left his voice, and he eased back in his chair. “Now then, on to strategic matters. I’m pleased with the results of your first deep strike. A few more of those and the Germans will have to pull fighters from Stalingrad to cover their rear. That’ll give much needed relief to our fighters and bombers in the area, not to mention some hope for everyone on the ground.”
“I’m eager to do my part.”
“I want to put more pressure on the fascists,” he said. “The 8th Army Air is down to two hundred planes. They’ve all but given the skies over Stalingrad to the Luftwaffe. While we still can’t contest them, I’m not going to sit here and do nothing.”
“Alexandra and I are up for more,” I said. “But we’re a pair of fighters. Our guns only do so much. Send some bombers with us, and you’ll get the German’s attention.”
Gridnev’s eyes lit up and his cheeks dimpled. “Precisely what I plan on doing, Nadya. I’m going to try and get some of the ground-attack regiments to assist us from here on out. So expect escort duty for the next few weeks.”
“Looking forward to it, comrade major.” I said. Though I replied in an even manner, internally I was thrilled at being assigned more strikes and scared at the dangerous nature of it all. Protecting bombers was a different beast than hunting on our own. If things went bad during the latter, our Yak-1s had a good chance to run. Bombers didn’t have that luxury, and we had to stick with them no matter what. Of course, the added responsibility also meant Gridnev was confident in my abilities as a pilot. My soul beamed at that thought.
Gridnev dismissed me after a bit of small talk, and I decided to head to the infirmary to have my newest wound looked at. A dull ache radiated across a large part of my head, and I wanted to be sure Klara hadn’t cracked my skull or chipped a cheek bone. Judging from the bloody rag in my hand, I knew I also needed stitches.
“Still getting yourself torn up, I see,” Doctor Burak said as I entered the room. He had a stethoscope in hand and was listening to a freckled boy breathe—a pilot from Third Squadron I presumed. He gave me a passing glance before returning to his work. “Take a seat. I’ll be with you shortly.”
When his patient left and he finally got to me, it was apparent that his idea of shortly was not at all what mine was. I suspected it was his passive-aggressive attitude due to my previous rebuffs. “Is it broken?” I asked, sitting on a wooden stool and pointing to the side of my head.
Burak’s fingers probed the wound. “No,” he said, “but it does look like quite the lover’s quarrel.”
I sighed and shook my head. News had spread across the base faster than the blitzkrieg, and already I was irritated at the jabs. If they thought we were a real couple, those jabs would have turned vicious. “It was nothing like that.”
“If you say,” he replied. “I have no ill-will to those desiring uncommon relationships. I was, however, going to suggest you seek a tenderer companionship with someone else before something like this does you in.”
My skin crawled, and I pulled away. “The only thing I’m looking for right now is a set of stitches so I’m not bleeding all over the place.”
“We got off on the wrong foot earlier,” he said. He was trying to sound friendly, but there was an underlying edge to his voice that showed he was more annoyed than anything else. “Why don’t we start over tonight, Nadya? I’ll have some decent food brought in. Maybe a bottle of wine, yes? We can relax and get to know each other.”
I smirked at his absurd persistence. “I don’t drink. Just stitch me up.”
Burak grunted and went over to a row of new, green crates lined up on a nearby table. They had English words across them, in white, which I couldn’t read, but the black caduceus on each one’s front told me all I needed. The short staff with wings and intertwined serpents clearly labeled the crates as medical supplies. From one he pulled a dark bottle of iodine, some gauze, and a folded cloth pouch.
“We’re low on anesthetics,” he said, putting the iodine on the gauze. “This might hurt a little.”
He cleaned the wound like he was scrubbing pots caked with grease. It hurt, but the pain was nothing compared to what I’d endured with my burns. In a way, I was glad they’d tormented me because they gave me the resolve not to flinch as he tended to my head. Still, I wasn’t going to let his lie go unchalleng
ed. “Looks like you have quite the supply right there from the Americans.”
From the folded pouch he took a suturing needle, thread, and forceps. “I haven’t catalogued it all,” he said. “No telling how much or little we have. They sent some better rations, too. Not that it’s for you, but I thought you should know.”
A fire ignited in my soul. A trickle of perspiration ran down my back, and all I wanted to do was to drive him into the ground. I knew I couldn’t do that, but I was through being treated like a dog. “What do you think Major Gridnev will say when I tell him you’re neglecting your duties as a physician?”
“I don’t think he’ll respond kindly once I inform him the accusations come from a girl unfit to fly and who tried to change my mind about my recommendations with physical advances.”
“Stitch me up and get it over with.”
The needle burned as it pierced my skin time and again. With hard pulls, he drew the wound closed with the sutures. More than once my head jerked to the side with the tugs he made, but I didn’t make a noise. I didn’t even let my eyes water. I took all that pain and let it fuel my disgust for the man.
When he was done, I stood, looked him square in the eyes, and spoke with an even tone. “Next time you threaten me or decide to get cute, remember this: I’ve been shot at, blown apart, and set on fire by my enemies, and every day I still get in my plane and hunt them down. I’m not someone you can intimidate, and I’m not someone who won’t fight back.”
Doctor Burak’s face reminded me of a child who had discovered what an angry bull looked like when its tail was pulled. The look was fleeting, and he turned stoic in a couple of heartbeats. “Are you threatening me?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m telling you who I am. Take it as you will.”
I left feeling his glare on the back of my head. Outside, despite the icy October air biting my face and paining my burns, I smiled. I was proud I’d stood tall and was certain Father would’ve been too had he seen what had transpired. Actually, he would have broken the poor doctor in half had he been there. The thought of seeing Father wrap his large hands around Burak’s neck and wring the life out of him drew out a dark chuckle from deep inside me.
Chapter Twenty-One
Three days later and two hours before sunrise, I tossed in bed. I’d spent the majority of the night unable to sleep, replaying our mission briefing from the evening before over and over to distract myself from my ailments. Sweat covered my body. A phantom blade dug and twisted in my palm, and I wondered if amputation might be the only thing to ever bring me permanent relief. My stomach cramped, and my eyes lost focus for a moment. Had it been any worse, I’d have sworn my insides were ripping themselves apart. I’d never born a child before, but if it was anything close to what I was feeling, I wanted nothing to do with motherhood.
I could taste bile rising in my throat. Half-blind, I rolled out of bed and stumbled out of the dugout. Snow soaked my socks and numbed my toes. I pressed on, trying to get as far away from our sleeping quarters as possible before I wretched. I made it a few dozen meters before falling over. I caught myself on my hands and knees and then emptied my stomach. It didn’t have much in it, as I hadn’t had an appetite for the past two days.
For several tense moments, I stayed on all fours, panting and watching my breath crystalize in the air until the pain eased. The taste in my mouth was wretched. Off in the distance I heard Bri and that stupid mutt getting into another fight somewhere nearby, but didn’t bother to look. At the sound of crunching footsteps in the snow fast approaching, I pushed myself up to my feet.
“Nadya, are you okay?”
I wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve and turned to find Klara nearby, holding a bag of tools. This was the first real interaction we’d had since she’d clobbered me and was sent to the box. I wasn’t sure how to act, so I looked at her in an awkward manner until I realized I should say something. “Upset stomach,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll catch your death out here, dressed in nothing,” she said. She pulled off her leather coat and put it around my shoulders. “Are you sick? You look terrible.”
I drew the coat around me, relishing the warmth it brought. I couldn’t help but crack a smile at her last remark. I must have looked like a corpse for her to say such a thing, for the moon above was barely past the first quarter and didn’t offer much light. I suspected had she been able to see me well, I’d have given her a heart attack. “I think it was something I ate,” I lied. “Awful way to spend a birthday, huh?”
“It’s your birthday?”
I feigned a deep hurt and clutched my chest. “How could you forget? I’m an old maid of twenty-one now.”
“Because you never told me,” she said. “Even if it was something you ate, you should let your weary bones rest, you hag. There’s plenty of time to find a new pilot.”
“I can fly. Honest, I feel better already.” I hoped my performance was enough to get her moving. Though I knew I was having withdrawals from the morphine, I couldn’t tell her. She’d have too many questions, too many concerns. She might even report me for stealing once she found out where I got the supply from. I’d go straight to the gallows if that happened.
“I still need to finish the prep on your plane,” she said, taking me by the arm and leading me back toward the dugout. “Bundle up and I’ll check on you in an hour when it’s time to rise.”
“How was the box?”
“Cold. Dark.”
“That all?”
Klara stopped a few meters away from the dugout. Her gaze drifted off into the darkness, and she rubbed her arms for warmth. “About as comfy as my foxhole during night watch,” she said. “But it was lonely, not that this is much better. I’m sorry for what I did, what I said. It was a bad day for me, and I snapped.”
“No, I should apologize,” I said. “I should’ve found you when I landed and let you know I was okay, but . . .”
She waited a moment after my voice trailed to prompt me. “But what?”
“But . . .” I sighed heavily, wishing I could tell her exactly why my thoughts were so muddled that day. “I was struggling with other things—not that you aren’t dear to me—but they hit me more than I expected.”
“What other things?”
“I can’t tell you.” When pain flashed in her eyes, I quickly added, “Not now at least. One day, I’d love to. Honest. Right now I’m asking—begging—for you to let this go.”
Klara bit her lip and toyed with her hair for far longer than I would’ve ever liked. “Think you could at least tell me before the war is over?”
I laughed. “Yes. I’m sure I could by then.” My shoulders fell with relief. “You have no idea how glad I am we could work this out without any more wrenches to the noggin.”
“Me too,” she replied. “But Gridnev said I’m not allowed to talk to you outside of duties anymore. I should be thankful, I guess. He should have stretched my neck or sent me to a penal brigade.”
“He’ll forget it all soon enough,” I said. “His real concern was me smooching you. I told him I’d never to it again, and I want you to know I meant it. I didn’t mean to put you off as I did.”
Klara shifted her weight from one foot to the other and fidgeted with her hands. “Oh, I see,” she said. “That’s okay, I guess, but why did you?”
“Kiss you?” I shrugged and gave back her coat. “I told you. I thought it funny, but after a crack in the head I guess I wasn’t thinking straight. Was it that awful?”
“No, it wasn’t,” she said, stumbling for words and then shaking her head with a huff. “Never mind. I don’t even know how to get it out.”
“Try,” I said. I was trying my best to ignore the stabbing in my ice-cold feet, but God, how I wanted to get back inside and find some warmth. That said, I figured I should give Klara at least a chance to spit out what was gnawing on her mind.
“Not now,” she replied. “Not here.”
My curiosity died. “
Okay, then I’m going to bed. I’m freezing.”
Klara headed toward the airfield, and the moment I turned around, Petrov made an appearance. He was bundled in a quilted jacket with matching trousers. Despite the early hour, he didn’t appear tired, making me wonder if the man ever slept, or needed it for that matter.
“Good morning, Junior Lieutenant,” he said, stopping a few paces away. “You’re up early.”
“So are you,” I replied. I didn’t want to sound as if I was hiding behind Gridnev’s and Tamara’s orders, but I had to know why he was here. I didn’t think his presence was a chance encounter. “What do you want with me? We both know you’ve been told to stay away.”
“I like watching the night sky. Gorgeous, isn’t it?” he said, sounding sincere. He pulled his pipe from one pocket and a yellow tin of Dunhill Royal Yacht tobacco from the other. As he went on, he packed the bowl and started to smoke. “I often wonder how many stars there are. Ever tried counting them?”
“No,” I said. “I’m sure there are more up there than I can imagine.”
Petrov chuckled. “Lots of things have to be left to the imagination, I suppose. But one thing doesn’t.”
“What’s that?”
“What you’re doing here. It’s obvious you’re sick as a dog. You ought to see the doctor before it gets worse.”
I cringed as my stomach revolted once more. Though it was painful, I was glad I had enough self-control to keep from throwing up again. “I don’t need to. I’ll be fine.”
“I suppose you will,” he said. “All the same. It’s probably good that you aren’t bothering him as he’s busy taking inventory. It seems he’s misplaced a few items.”
I was glad that the dark covered my reaction. “Perhaps he’ll look after his stethoscope better.”
Petrov motioned to the doctor’s office with his pipe. “Oh he didn’t lose that. He can’t account for some medication.”