Nadya's War

by C. S. Taylor

  Damn. Damn. Damn. My chest and the back of my neck warmed, and I stopped fidgeting with my hands the moment I noticed I was. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I’m sure you are,” he replied, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “If you happen to see anyone with morphine syrettes, be sure to bring them in.”

  “Of course, but I’d like to go back to bed. So if you’ll excuse me, Commissar.”

  Petrov sidestepped and made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “As you were, Junior Lieutenant.”

  I hurried inside the dugout and darted into bed and under my blanket. The squeaks of mice let me know I was now sharing the space with the little fur balls. Over the last few weeks, I’d gotten used to having the extra company. They were still everywhere, despite the cold, and despite Zhenia’s mouser (who was good at being one, but one cat a rodent genocide does not make). I lay there, staring at the dark above, tired, pained, shivering, and thinking about this morning’s encounters with Klara and Petrov.

  I was in no shape to fly, yet I had to. Not only because I didn’t want to lose my wings, but I wanted to fight. I wanted to bring Gerhard Rademacher’s plane down, and the only way that would happen is if I was well enough to get out of bed.

  As I reached under the bed for a syrette, my hand went numb as if it were reaching into the deepest parts of the abyss. I was at a crossroad, and though the morphine beneath my bed promised the sweet allure of a pain-free life, it carried with it a price of isolation and fear. I’d already pulled far away from my friends, my God, my family, and I shuddered to think how much further I could go. Still, I couldn’t rid myself of those awful syrettes. I needed help.

  Before I could change my mind, I dressed as fast as I could, stuffed the box in my coat, and hurried out into the dark. I stumbled over the terrain as I ran to the airfield. My eyes watered, partly from the frigid air biting at them, but mostly because of the anxiety of wondering what Klara would say when I came clean and pleaded for help. I didn’t have to wait long. I found her at my plane, loading ammunition belts into the machine guns.

  “Something the matter?” she asked.

  “Everything,” I said. I fumbled inside my coat for the yellow box and shoved it into her hands. My eyes fixated on the ground, and my skin deadened as I forced myself to talk. “Take it. Destroy it. Just don’t ask questions. And please don’t tell anyone.”

  A deafening silence settled between us, and I thought I was about to go mad when she finally spoke. “Morphine? But . . . why?”

  “For the pain,” I said, my throat tightening. “I couldn’t fly without it, and now I can’t fly with it. Worse, I can’t get rid of it.”

  “You’re a common thief,” she whispered. “Why would you steal from us?”

  “I’m not.” I wiped my nose and cleared my eyes. “No, I am. But the doctor demanded . . . favors for help, so I stole it instead.”

  “Damn jackass. I wish someone would bump him into a prop,” she said with a snarl. “So is this what you were talking about struggling with before?”

  I nodded.

  “Is this all of it?”

  I nodded again. When she didn’t say anything, I dared to look up at her. Her eyes held a righteous fury to them, like the angels who’ve been given the authority to judge this fallen world. Her hand grabbed mine, and she pulled me around to the other side of the plane where the moonlight couldn’t find us.

  “I’m so mad at you I can barely think. I don’t know if I should punch you for being dumb or kiss you for trusting me so,” she whispered, stuffing the box inside her coat. “I’ll get rid of it. But I swear, Nadya, you use or steal again, and that’s it. I’ll hand you over myself, so don’t make me choose between you or the Motherland. There are no second chances.”

  My body relaxed, and I blew out a sigh. “Thank you. From the bottom-”

  Before I could finish, Klara grabbed me by the back of the head and rested her forehead against mine. She hesitated before kissing me awkwardly on the cheek and letting me go. “I should get back to work,” she whispered. “Get some sleep.”

  I didn’t leave, but instead kept a grip on the small of her back. I wanted to melt into her embrace, find her lips with mine, and watch her eyes adore it all—I hoped. I almost did all of that, but these new desires were alien to me, at least toward Klara. I wasn’t sure if I was simply elated at her continued acceptance of me or if my heart was longing for something more with her. I hoped the latter, but fear of the foremost drove me to leave. I told myself I’d sort all this out later. “If you insist. Wake me up in time for the sortie?”

  “Of course.”

  She squeezed me tight before disengaging. I made my way back to the dugout with a stupid, happy smile on my face. The encounter had gone exceedingly better than I had ever anticipated, and I playfully scolded myself for not going to her for help sooner. Moreover, I wanted more with her, time, company . . . affection. Sadly the stupidity of both the war and my own country would interfere with most of it. My arm hurt, and my stomach cramped, but with my thoughts flowing around Klara, I drifted off to a sleep that rivaled any mother’s embrace.

  “Nadya! Wake up!”

  I groaned, and batted away the hand shaking me.

  “Nadya! We’re flying in thirty minutes!”

  I opened my eyes enough to make out Alexandra’s blurred form looming over me. “I can get dressed in five,” I said. I tried to pull the covers over my head, but she held them fast. “Please, let me rest a bit longer.”

  “Why? Are you dreaming of your lover girl?” she teased while jabbing my ribs with her fingers. “I bet if I kissed you the way you kissed her you’d get out of bed.”

  I sat up and hoped she could see my scowl in the dark. “It stopped being funny two days ago.”

  “I’d rather find it funny than sad, Nadya,” she replied. “Has it been that long since a boy touched you that you have to run after girls? Did you forget what a boy is like?”

  “No, and no.” Resigned to the fact I would not be getting any more rest, I tossed on the rest of my clothes. “Keep it up and I’m dousing you with water next time you’re asleep.”

  “Will you hold me close and warm me up?” she said, laughing. “I wonder if you kiss better than my fiancé. If so, maybe I’d become as depraved as you.”

  I groaned. “Shut it,” I said. “I mean it. I’m tired of you teasing me about the biggest mistake of my life.”

  Somehow Alexandra found my boots and handed them over. “Okay, okay. Don’t be so testy. But if you’re lonely-”

  “I mean it-”

  “I’m being serious.” She paused, I assumed so she could show she was no longer kidding, and then continued. “If you’re lonely, my fiancé’s brother is single. Good man, too. A professor. I bet we could arrange an introduction at my parents’ home when the war is over. We can all play cards and drink wine, and you can see if you like him.”

  With stiff movements, I put my boots and jacket on, and grabbed my gloves from underneath the foot of my bed. “No thanks,” I said. “All I want is to fly.”

  “Think about it,” she said, following me out. “Then we could be family forever.”

  I stopped in my tracks and smiled at the thought. “We’ll always be family.”

  We headed across the airfield and split to get in our fighters. I was amazed at the vigor in my steps. Apparently, a little solid rest and a numbing of the nerves did wonders for my spirits. I saw Klara near the tail of my plane, leaning against the fuselage, with a mournful look upon her moonlit face.

  “It’s ready,” she said. “Are you feeling better?”

  I stopped a couple of paces away. She sounded as if she was asking out of formality rather than genuine concern. “Much. I thought you were going to wake me up?”

  “You don’t need me. Alexandra had that covered.”

  “How-” I stopped myself from finishing that question, and after my stomach tightened, I forced myself to ask the next. “You heard us talking?”

/>   Klara looked away. Her silence was all I needed.

  “You’re taking it wrong,” I said.

  “I’m not sure how to take being the biggest mistake of your life in a nice way.”

  I took her by the shoulders. “I only regret getting us in trouble. That kiss was supposed to be funny, and now it’s become anything but. You were my first real friend here and still are. No one looks after me the same way you do. Not even Alexandra.”

  She eyed me suspiciously. “Would you kiss me again?”

  “Only if it wouldn’t land us both in the box or worse,” I said. I gave a playful laugh. “I can’t believe you even have to ask.”

  Klara’s head dropped. She sighed with equal parts heartache and relief. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve been so paranoid about losing you. All the blood. The dying. The orders to leave you alone, and then I hear you make comments like that and don’t know what to think.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “I have to come back to you safe, yes?”

  That brightened her face. “Yes. Always.”

  “Then that’s what I plan on doing.” I stifled a yawn, and smacked myself a few times to wake up. “Tell you what, when I get back and the day is done, we can spend the night at the river, just you and me. If it goes well enough, we could make it a standing date.”

  “That’s not right. It’ll be considered fraternizing.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t care what it will be considered. Besides, if we pull off this attack, Gridnev will be so elated he won’t care one bit what we do. Trust me.”

  Klara pushed off the plane. Her eyes looked hopeful and scared to be so at the same time. “If you promise he won’t care.”

  “I promise.”

  “Then come back to me safe, Nadya.”

  * * *

  Seven of us zipped through the overcast sky, a dozen meters beneath the cloud layer. Gridnev flew lead and a girl named Tania from First Squadron flew on his wing. Alexandra and I cruised next to them about thirty meters away. I pictured myself as a modern version of my ancestors who rode into battle on horseback, courageous and strong. If only they could see me now, sailing through the air to drive off the invaders. I wondered if they’d be proud or jealous. Maybe both.

  The four of us escorted a flight of three Pe-2s from the 150th High-Speed Bomber Regiment across the snowy landscape. That unit was led by Lieutenant Colonel Ivan Polbin who I’d heard was quite the commander. I’d also heard he enjoyed music and sang well, like me, which made me think we’d get along—even if he was a die-hard communist and loyal to Stalin.

  The twin-engine Peshkas flew nearly as fast as our fighters, something I was grateful for. I’m certain the three crew members inside each bomber were thankful as well, since unlike the German Heinkels and Stukas, these planes were tough to catch for any aircraft. That being said, I was glad I was in my Yak-1. I wouldn’t have wanted to fly one of those bombers at all, no matter how prestigious they were. They were still big targets, and far less nimble than the fighter I had. I prayed we’d keep them safe.

  All the Pe-2s, however, did have fresh, winter paint jobs. Their off-white and tan colors hid them well in the surroundings, and if I wasn’t paying close attention, I’d even lose sight of them from time to time. Their target was a rail depot the Germans were using to bring in supplies and troops headed to Stalingrad. Obliterating it would disrupt logistics and force the Luftwaffe to keep it safe once rebuilt.

  With luck, the Germans wouldn’t spot the Peshkas until the bombs were already dropping and they were headed home. I fantasized about how easy of a mission this could be as we went deeper into enemy lines. Those thoughts almost turned into dreams as the drone from my fighter’s engine combined with the dreary sky nearly put me to sleep, despite the digging pain in my arm.

  “Tighten up, Little Boar,” Gridnev called out over the radio.

  My eyes snapped to the formation. I’d drifted away from the bombers by a good fifty meters sideways and at least that in altitude. I glanced over my shoulder to see Alexandra off to my right. She’d stayed with me even as I wandered. “Reforming now. Thought I saw something below and wanted a better view.”

  It was a lie, but no one challenged me on it. I didn’t want to admit I was overtired because my body was craving morphine. I checked the clock. It was about a quarter till seven. I tapped the glass face, trying to remember how much longer we had until we reached the target. I grunted with frustration when I couldn’t figure it out and decided to make a routine check with the Major. “Confirm time to target?”

  “Four minutes, thirty seconds.”

  I eased back in my seat. That seemed right. I slapped my cheek a few times to wake up. God, I needed more rest. My response on the controls was sluggish, and I probably couldn’t navigate my way home to save my life. I feared I was going to be more of a danger to myself landing than any dogfight would be. I reminded myself that once I was clear of the withdrawals, sleep would come easier.

  I scanned the sky and kept a constant vigil on the clock. Two minutes to target, I spied four dots in the sky, closing fast in a finger-four formation. Identifying the group was easy, even in my groggy state. “Luftwaffe Schwarm, three o’clock, six or seven kilometers out.” I said.

  “Attack on my order,” Gridnev said. “Stay with our bombers.”

  We held our formation for the next half minute in tense silence. Then the lead bomber’s pilot spoke on the radio. “We’re starting our run. Doors open. One pass and we’re gone.”

  “Nadya, Alexandra, engage the enemy fighters,” Gridnev said. “Tania and I will be right behind.”

  “Going in,” I said, peeling my fighter off to the right. Tension mounted in my chest and arms, not from nervousness, but eagerness. The pain in my burns even dulled under a sea of adrenaline. I wanted to prove myself again and be known as the girl with two kills now on her plane. Funny how such a boost to confidence and self-esteem came from what was a barbaric act—the death of another.

  Our planes raced toward the Luftwaffe, and images of our two groups clashing violently with each other made me readjust my grip on the controls twice over. Since I was the lead plane, I should have been proud to lead the charge, but since I was out in front, what I really felt was exposed.

  I changed the line of our attack by giving some rudder and angling my plane so it flew to the right of the German formation. This way, they’d have to make a choice to engage us or continue to chase our bombers. I didn’t know which I’d prefer and never had the time to figure it out. One moment the 109s were still two kilometers away, and seemingly the next, I was shooting by, nearly scraping my wing tip against one of the Messers.

  I pulled hard on the stick, rocketing my plane up through the sky. I shot through a cloud layer a couple hundred meters thick. When I broke through the top, I caught a glimpse of heaven. The sun shone like an angel and the cloud tops were as pure as any saint. Up there, there was no fighting, no war, no struggle for life and death. Paradise disappeared when my fighter plunged back toward Earth, and a frozen hell took its place.

  Gridnev and Tania were each engaged in rolling scissors with two of the German fighters. A third Luftwaffe came at me from my right, guns blazing. I barely had enough time to snap roll out of his line of fire. I pulled hard on the stick, trying to force him to overshoot, but he went into a high-G yo-yo and barreled toward me again.

  “Nadya, bank left,” Alexandra called out. “I can clear him soon as you do.”

  I followed her order though I couldn’t see where she was. As I entered the turn, I kept my eyes on the Messer above me and smiled when I saw Alexandra’s tracers rip through his tail. The Messer rolled away, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “I owe you one, Alexandra.”

  “Just one? If I’d known you were worth so little, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

  Her jab brought a smile to my face as I assessed the situation. The Pe-2s were nearly at the railway station, but Gridnev and Tania were still locked in a fur ball
. “Alexandra, stick with that other Messer and protect our Peshkas,” I said, angling my plane to enter the dogfight. “I’m going to clear tails.”

  “Understood,” she replied.

  Tania appeared to be holding her own, something I was grateful for. She was easy to pick out as her plane was the only one lacking a winter color scheme at this point. Gridnev, on the other hand, was losing both speed and position against his adversary. He’d be in the enemy’s sights soon, and I feared there was nothing he could do about it. My gut grew queasy, knowing how helpless he must feel.

  “Major, reverse roll, come right,” I said, lining up the shot in my mind. If I could get Gridnev to extend the fur ball where I wanted, I’d have the fascist dead in my sights.

  Gridnev obeyed, and at the same time, the German opened fire. Pieces of metal flew from Gridnev’s wing. “I’m hit!”

  His plane entered a dive. The Messer and I followed as he pulled out and banked hard. Again the German fired. I exhaled as his shots flew behind Gridnev.

  “I can end this if you level, Major. I only need a half second,” I said.

  “Take the bastard out,” he replied, leveling his nose with the horizon.

  I chopped the throttle and squealed as the German followed the Major as I’d hoped, presenting me with a perfect target. I mashed the triggers, and large chunks blew off the 109’s tail. A piece of his rudder even bounced off the root of my right wing.

  The Messer fired at Gridnev, but with half its vertical stabilizer gone, its aim was sloppy. I pumped another burst into the fighter, and it tumbled toward the earth like a drunk trying a cartwheel.

  “You’re clear!” I shouted. My elation grew tenfold when I saw the 109’s canopy open and its pilot bail. “And he’s down!”

  Gridnev sighed with relief. “There’s a bottle of vodka with your name on it when we get back.”

  Fiery streaks zipped by my canopy, and I instinctively snap rolled to the right to get out of the way. The shots weren’t for me. They hit Gridnev and drove through his left wing and rear fuselage.

  “Damn it,” he said as his plane dropped a good five hundred meters in the sky. “This thing’s almost had it.”