The Russian Resistance

by Simon Brading

  She made the rounds of the hangars, inspecting all the aircraft and making sure that repairs were under way, then went to the communications shed and requested a meeting with command in Murmansk.

  With the Flea fighters out of the way there was a very small window during which the allies could act with relative impunity before more fighters could be shipped in. The obvious course of action was to attempt to destroy as much of the Prussian ground forces as possible, but in order to do that most effectively she would need the General to tell her what and where to strike.

  She received an immediate reply saying she was to report immediately and she commandeered a bike messenger to take her.

  The first thing she did when she was shown into the same bunker as before was glance at the map and she smiled slightly when she saw that the figurine representing the fighter squadron had been removed. However, that smile faded when she saw that the yellow one representing the bomber squadron had gone as well.

  ‘Group Captain.’

  Abby looked up to see the General hobbling towards her.

  She nodded respectfully. ‘General.’ She tilted her head in the direction of the map. ‘You’ve heard then?’

  ‘I heard that you lost my entire squadron of bombers, yes.’

  Abby blinked at him in surprise. ‘I assure you that I did my utmost to ensure their safety and bring them back. If anyone is to blame then it is Captain Baryshnikov.’

  The general shook his head. ‘No, if anyone is to blame, Captain, then it is you; you were in overall command of the mission and it was you who changed the plan and abandoned the bombers to go racing ahead and get the glory for yourself.’

  ‘Sir, that’s not...’

  He lifted his hand to stop her. ‘I have spoken to Captain Baryshnikov, I have heard his side of the events and I have no need to hear yours to be able to read between the lines and see what he isn’t telling me. I know you did what you could, I know your change of plans salvaged and made a success of a mission that was destined to failure from the start and I commend you for that. However, Baryshnikov has friends and his point of view, that it was your fault that the bombers were lost, will be heard in high places. Furthermore, he has asked to be taken from your command and given his independence and I have decided to grant him his request.’

  Abby frowned and opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again immediately as her brain overtook her mouth. The General’s solution to the problem was perfect - she would no longer have to deal with an insubordinate subordinate, the Misfits would no longer be in danger of being left in the lurch by unreliable allies, and they would be free to act in any way that they thought best, relying only on themselves. The only real downside was that the opinion of certain people would be poisoned against them, but that was of very little, if any, concern because, with any luck, the Misfits would be leaving before the month was up.

  She smiled slowly and nodded. ‘Thank you, sir.’

  The General returned her smile, fully aware of everything that had gone through her mind and gave her a wink to show that it had gone through his as well.

  ‘Now, on to the real reason you are here, Group Captain.’

  Abby raised an eyebrow. ‘And what is that, sir?’

  The general laughed and waved a hand at the table. ‘You want to know what you can attack next, isn’t that so?’

  Abby grinned. ‘Yes, please, sir.’

  Chapter 21

  The General rightly pointed out that it would be almost pointless to attack the Prussian forces which were already in position at the front because they would be too well dug in and protected. Instead, he told her that it would be better to attack the columns that were still on the march and which would therefore be far more vulnerable.

  He sent her away, promising that he would find a suitable column for them to attack and that very afternoon, Misfit Squadron took off to carry out their first raid on a mechanised column moving up through Finland towards the border with Muscovy.

  The column was composed mostly of standard transport vehicles, but there were also a few mechanised cannon and tanks bringing up the rear. It was defended by a few antiaircraft guns mounted on wagons, but any return fire that came from them was ineffectual at best and the Misfits dealt with them harshly, destroying the only threat, before targeting the rest of the vehicles.

  They left the convoy at a standstill, in complete disarray, with over half of the hundred or so vehicles disabled or destroyed and the road completely blocked by twisted metal, the morale of the survivors probably ruined just as effectively.

  The Wolfpack were too busy celebrating the morning’s victory to even think about flying another mission that day and by the time the Misfits got back, the party Baryshnikov had mentioned was in full swing. The guards from the surrounding woods had been invited to join in and one of the bigger hangars had been appropriated to accommodate more than two hundred people, the Wolfpack Polikasparov fighters, which had previously been housed there, pushed out the back of the open structure to make room. Several large fires had been built to warm the space and the air under the half-cylinder of the simple building was smoky, fragrant and inviting.

  None of the Misfits felt like they had much to celebrate, but Abby insisted that they at least make an appearance, in an attempt to keep up relations between the two squadrons.

  The British immediately found out that there were absolutely no grudges being held by the Russians and they were wholeheartedly welcomed by one and all. Drinks were thrust into their hands and they were told to help themselves to the food that was roasting on the fires.

  Gwen had been working on Wasp with Wendy while the squadron had been on the mission, but by the time the light faded they had finished the wiring and installation of the rocket mechanisms and were able to leave the fitters to complete the repairs while they went to the party. Neither of them really wanted to leave the aircraft unfinished, but Abby had as good as ordered them to at least spend a couple of hours socialising with the Muscovites, so they wandered over, wiping their hands on rags to get rid of the grease on them and putting their greatcoats over their work coveralls, but otherwise not bothering to make any effort to get dressed up.

  Gwen had been too occupied with Wasp to have any time to dwell on the events of the mission, but now images came back to her, brought on by the sight of the fires and the meat roasting on them, so, while Wendy went over to Owen and gave him a big kiss which left a smeared of black oil on his cheek, she stumbled on shaking legs to where the vodka was being poured, suddenly finding she needed a stiff drink.

  She downed the first one, to cheers from the soldiers manning the bottles, demanded a second and did the same, but saluted them in thanks with the third before wandering away to look for a relatively quiet place in the shadows where she could sit and nurse it while the trembling in her limbs subsided. She found a wooden crate to park herself on and leaned against the freezing metal wall of the hangar to watch the exuberant Muscovites celebrating.

  ‘Penny for your thoughts?’

  Gwen blinked and looked up to find Drake smiling down at her. ‘I’m sorry?’

  He tilted his head in the direction of the Wolfpack pilots. ‘You were frowning in disapproval at our comrades over there.’

  She looked over at the Muscovites and shook her head. ‘I just don’t understand how they can be so happy after losing so many people today and I’m not talking about the men and women on the bombers, although that’s awful, I’m talking about the four of their own pilots they lost. Four. Out of only twelve in their squadron.’

  Drake pulled another crate over, then settled next to her with a sigh.

  ‘You’ve never really lost anyone in your squadron, have you? Misfit Squadron don’t lose pilots, right?’

  ‘No, nobody. But two pilots from my flight in my old squadron were killed my first time in combat.’

  Drake nodded. ‘Were you close to them?’

  ‘Well...’ Gwen grimaced and looked away from his inten
se blue eyes. ‘Back then I wasn’t letting anyone close to me. It was just after Richard had died...’

  ‘So that’s a no, then.’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘Well, I have.’ Drake said. ‘Most of the men and women I was in the University Air Squadron with are dead, most of the men and women I went to France with are dead and most of the men and women I fought with over Britain are dead.’

  Gwen blinked at him. She knew that casualties had been high in the RAC over the summer, that they had had to throw new pilots into the air with barely any training, just to try to hold back the Prussian tide, but she hadn’t known that it had been as bad as that. It made it seem improbable, no, impossible that Misfit Squadron hadn’t lost anyone except for Abby’s sister.

  ‘How did you cope?’ Her voice was little more than a whisper, almost inaudible over the noise the Muscovites were making, but Drake heard her. Had been expecting her question.

  ‘You remind yourself that your friends wouldn’t want you to stop enjoying what little time you may have left and that they definitely wouldn’t want us to give up and let their sacrifice be in vain. Then you go and have a few drinks, sing a few songs and put up a photo. And next day you go back to fighting the good fight and carry on living your life as best you can.’

  Gwen considered his words then shook her head. ‘You make it sound so easy.’

  Drake just smiled, though. ‘It’s not, but I’m hoping you never have to go through something like that. However, I’m sure that if you ever do, you’ll come out the other side looking to kick Prussian arses even more than you were before.’

  Gwen laughed, then took a big swig of her drink. ‘I’d like to think that, but my track record isn’t so good.’

  ‘Reacting badly to Richard dying isn’t indicative of anything; he was your husband, a man you loved. Yes, people in your squadron are colleagues, friends... even lovers sometimes, but you go into your relationship with them knowing that one day they may die. You never thought that would happen with Richard, though, so you weren’t prepared when it did.’

  ‘I suppose not,’ Gwen sighed and stared into her glass, ‘but the Misfits have become like a family. I’m not sure I could handle...

  A joyful shout brought her out of her brooding and she looked up to see Mac pelting across the hangar towards where two women were just arriving, one fair-haired and one dark. He grabbed the blonde and lifted her laughing into the air and swung her around before bringing her back down and kissing her extremely enthusiastically, to cheers from everybody in the hangar, all of whom had briefly stopped what they were doing to watch. The two were oblivious to their audience, though, and it didn’t spoil their reunion one bit.

  Drake chuckled. ‘Now, that is a man who is trying to live his life to the fullest. Who’s the blonde?’

  Gwen frowned. ‘I’m pretty sure that’s Katerina, the girl he met in St. Petersburg, although I have no idea what she’s doing here.’

  Bruce had followed Mac across the room rather more slowly, but he greeted the second girl just as warmly before grabbing her hand and leading her across the room towards the drinks. Mac, though, was dragged in the opposite direction, out of the hangar and towards the barracks, drawing laughter from the Misfits, which he acknowledged with a wave and an embarrassed grin.

  Drake laughed as well and glanced sideways at Gwen. ‘That’s what you need - a distraction to take your mind off things.’

  ‘Hmmm, yes, I think you’re right.’

  Drake looked at her in surprise. ‘I am? Really?’

  Gwen nodded enthusiastically. ‘Oh yes. Polikasparov has had his eye on me since the day we arrived. I think I saw him around here somewhere...’

  ‘Why you...’

  Gwen poked her tongue out at him and he punched her in the arm.

  For a second, just a second, it was like they were children again, carefree and young, with nothing to complicate their lives, but then the moment was gone and Drake sighed. ‘What are you going to do after all this?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe I’ll go back to work for my parents, or start up my own company. What about you?’

  ‘I'm going to retire and do something truly peaceful, like grow wheat or breed horses, and I’m going to live with my wife and never let her from my sight.’

  He looked at her meaningfully and Gwen snorted. ‘Is that some kind of proposal? Come off it, Digger, stop joking around! We haven’t seen each other in more than a decade! You hardly know me!’

  ‘I do! You’re still the same tough, determined, intelligent...’

  Gwen waved her free hand. ‘Keep going; I quite like that.’

  ‘...irritating, bloody-minded girl I grew so fond of.’

  ‘I thought you were trying to butter me up?’

  ‘I was.’ Drake gave her one of his lop-sided grins. ‘Was it working?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not really.’

  He chuckled. ‘Damn, I thought it was.’

  She joined in with his laughter, but when he suddenly turned serious, she realised he wasn’t joking after all and it died on her lips.

  ‘Look, Gwen, all I’m asking for is a chance to get to know you again when this is over and we have some time to ourselves. I’ll take you to tea in Selfridges, or we can go to Hamleys like we used to.’

  ‘Rudy, I don’t...’

  She knew she should tell him no, should tell him that she was falling in love with someone else, and she began to do so, but there was such hope in his eyes that she couldn’t bring herself to do it. And anyway, all she was really doing was promising to have tea with him, something that they could and would do as friends without there having to be any complications.

  ‘Alright,’ she said reluctantly, ‘I suppose we can do that at least.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He stood and offered her his hand, his crooked smile back in place. ‘I don’t suppose you’d care to dance?’

  Gwen glanced past him towards where a few dozen Muscovites were standing in a wide circle, singing something very triumphant, accompanied by strange triangular stringed instruments, taking it in turns to enter the ring and perform extremely athletic moves that were probably quite dangerous as drunk as they were. ‘Like that?’ She looked Drake up and down. ‘I’d quite like to see you try.’

  His smile widened becoming his familiar cheeky grin. ‘For you, anything, but maybe we could start with something a little less energetic, though?’

  She shook her head. ‘Sorry, I’m not staying; I just came to have a quick drink but now I have to get back to Wasp.’

  Drake inclined his head, accepting her excuse, but his smile faded slightly. ‘That’s a shame, but who am I to stand between a woman and her aircraft? Perhaps next time.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  He gave her a small bow. ‘Goodnight, Goosy.’

  ‘Goodnight, Digger.’

  He backed away then turned and disappeared from sight into the crowd.

  Gwen downed the rest of her drink, then climbed a little unsteadily to her feet and staggered towards the entrance of the hangar and out into the night, but, instead of heading to Wasp, she went round the side of the building and stood in the darkness, staring up at the stars, wondering what she’d just done.

  She had no problem with being friends with Rudy; it wonderful to see him again after so long and remembering all the fun they’d had together, learning to fly, had been wonderful, but he’d never been more than a brother to her and she just couldn’t see him as anything else. She should have told him that, shouldn’t have given him false hope, but the thoughts he had already been having about settling down with her after the war were only going to grow and in the end her reluctance to hurt him would only hurt him more.

  She cursed under her breath and kicked out at a nearby crate in frustration, but it wasn’t empty like the one she’d sat on in the hangar and she hopped in place, clutching at her foot inside her work boot, hoping that the cracking noise had been one of the wooden slats breaking and not her
toe. ‘Oh, for crying out loud!’

  ‘Gwen?’

  ‘Hello, Kitty.’ She put her foot down and hobbled around to face her friend, trying to put on a smile as she did.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  No, not even close. ‘I’m fine, it’s nothing. I just stubbed my toe.’

  ‘Good.’ The American smiled warmly. ‘Did you see Mac and that girl?’

  Gwen laughed, relieved that the conversation hadn’t gone in the direction that she’d feared it would. ‘Yes!’

  ‘Apparently she asked for a transfer to be near him.’

  ‘That’s surprisingly romantic. I didn’t thing Mac was the kind of person to inspire those kinds of feelings in anyone.’

  Kitty laughed. ‘I know! But they looked so happy, so much in love. The other girl who was in St. Petersburg, Natasha, came with her. She said something about regretting not having spent more time with Bruce or something. They’ve gone off as well - they had one drink, then she grabbed a couple of bottles and dragged him off, asking for a “tour of the base”.’

  Gwen smirked. ‘That’s the first time I’ve heard it called that!’

  ‘Me too!’ Kitty raised an eyebrow and gave her an inviting look. ‘You know, I don’t think I’ve had a proper look around this base either... Fancy going on a tour with me?’

  ‘Kitty...’

  ‘I know, I know - you need time. You can’t blame a girl for trying, though, especially today, after seeing you almost...’ Kitty sighed and looked away, staring into the darkness. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just that... Either of us could die at any time and I just want to be able to say that I actually had a chance to live first, that there was nothing I regretted not doing. Especially with you.’

  She turned back to Gwen, her expression flat as she waited to be pushed away again.

  Gwen met her friend’s eyes and saw the longing, the desire and the sheer will to live evident in every fibre of her being. She suddenly realised that, while she had been hesitant and unclear about how to reject Drake’s proposal, at the same time she’d had one thing very clear in her mind - that she should reject it because her heart belonged to someone else.