C Taylor - Nadya's War

He let me out near the banks of the river, and I trotted to a secluded area where the grass grew high and trees shielded me from prying eyes. I shed my clothes and slipped into the slow-moving water. Goosebumps raised on my skin, and despite the chill, I savored every moment rubbing the grime from my body.

I dipped under the surface and washed my hair. I managed to get some of the tangles out in the water using my fingers, but I’d need a brush for the rest. So I floated on my back and watched the few clouds in the sky drift. A fresh scent in the wind helped me relax.

I daydreamed about finally being able to soar above them once more, and wondered how long it would be until I encountered the Luftwaffe again—a specific member of the Luftwaffe—and all the ways I’d become the victor. I wondered if I’d kill him while he was still in his plane, or if he bailed, I wondered if I’d come around and shoot him hanging in his harness. Pilots abhorred such behavior on both sides, but if I were presented with that scenario it might be one of the few times I truly wouldn’t care what others thought.

Klara interrupted my daydreams with a sharp whistle. She stood near the river’s edge, holding my towel. “Having fun exposing yourself to the world? The Major wants to see you.”

“Not much left of me to expose,” I said, noting I could stand to gain a few kilos. “What’s going on?”

“Kazarinova’s bumping you to a new flight,” she said. “You’re launching with Valeriia in less than an hour.”

I swam over, scrambled up the steep bank, and grabbed the towel. “What happened? Why so sudden?”

“Escort mission for a VIP,” she said. “Guess she’s too short on pilots after all the transfers.”

I dried and dressed as fast as I could. “Who was transferred?”

“Liliia, Ekaterina, Klavdiia, Raisa and four others.” Klara replied. “Almost everyone who challenged Kazarinova’s command.”

“Do you know where they went?” I asked as sadness struck me at their loss.

Klara nodded. “To the 437 th. They’re based east of Stalingrad now.”

“I can’t believe so many are gone. Wonder how that will affect the rest of us. We’re thin enough.”

“The 437 thdoesn’t even fly the same fighters as we do. It’s a logistical and training nightmare. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s trying to screw things up on purpose.”

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, I chuckled. “Like a spy?”

“I know she’s not,” Klara replied. “I’d shoot her myself if I thought she was. But you have to admit, the whole thing is bizarre.”

“Bizarre doesn’t begin to cover it,” I admitted. “But we should get back before she counts us as deserters and has our heads.”

With brisk strides, we walked back to the airfield, making awkward small talk and dancing around this morning’s events. She seemed unaffected at losing her chance to fly, and she never brought it up. I was sure it was a façade. I knew firsthand the sucking hole in the chest that formed and never healed when dreams were snatched. I wanted to stop and beg for forgiveness and promise I’d fight for a pilot billet for her every chance I got. I didn’t, and I’d like to say it was because she wouldn’t let me have such a conversation, but in reality I was too scared to start it as I didn’t know what she’d say.

Klara returned to the field to prep the planes, and I ran into the command post to get briefed on the mission. It was what Klara had said it would be: a simple escort. Valeriia would be leading me and Alexandra Makunina, a new pilot I’d not met. We’d rendezvous with the VIP near Tolyatti, a city about two hundred and fifty kilometers to the northeast. Once we had him, it was a short flight to Kazan where we would all land. We’d refuel and go home, and he would go inspect whatever plant he needed to. It was going to be a sleeper of a flight. I’d sooner bet on Stalin becoming a capitalist before I’d bet we’d encounter any Luftwaffe as we’d be flying deep within our own country. Despite the constant reassurance by everyone of the same, as I left the command post and headed to my fighter, my stomach turned sour and my arms ached. All I could think about was how hot the flames must have been that engulfed Martyona’s plane.

“I did the complete pre-flight check,” Klara said, snapping me out of my daze. I’d walked the entire trip across the airfield and hadn’t even noticed. “You’re all set.”

Instead of replying, I gaped at the plane standing in front of me. Metal skin, smooth as glass, wrapped the fighter and was free of holes and patch jobs. The olive paintjob didn’t have a single chip in it, not even where the canopy slid back or on the wing roots where we often put our feet. Without even starting it, I knew the engine’s purr would resonate with my soul like no other.

“Fresh from the factory,” Klara said. “She’s barely past her break-in.”

“I’m almost scared to touch her.”

Klara laughed. “Well don’t be. You’re going to love having a new plane. This one will take care of you.”

“She’s more than a new plane,” I said. “She’s a new me.”

The fighter was exactly that. With it, I had a new identity and a new future I could shape. No longer would I be tied to that awful thirteenth of August. I would rise again, like a mighty phoenix birthed from its ashes. I would take to the sky and bring swift retribution to those who hurt me and my sisters.

“Are you okay?” she said. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”

I shifted my weight. Now that she mentioned it, emptying my stomach sounded like a half-decent idea. My now-spinning head didn’t help any either. “I’m fine,” I lied. “Nerves, I guess.”

“You’ll be fine, my Little Boar.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“I didn’t—”

“No,” I said. My voice felt weak, and it could barely get by the lump in my throat. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand what was going on with me. I latched on to the one thing I thought it could be. “About this morning—”

Klara closed the distance between us and held up her finger. “It was always your spot.”

“You wanted it as much as I did. I don’t know if I deserve it more.”

“If I’d taken your spot, Petrov would’ve taken you away,” she said. Her eyes misted, and she searched for somewhere to stuff her hands, but apparently, everywhere she put them wasn’t the right place. “At least this way you can still be alive, and we can still be friends. I don’t think I could live with myself knowing I was the reason I’d never see you again.”

“You knew about that?”

Klara nodded. “I pay attention.”

“Did you drop on purpose?”

She nodded again, but this time, she didn’t say anything.

My knees weakened. I wasn’t sure what her actions meant, other than they were bigger than anything I could come up with. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to feel as if you didn’t earn it,” she replied. “I didn’t want to take that away from you.”

“Then why are you telling me now?”

“Because I don’t want you puking in my aircraft because you feel guilty,” she said. “It was my choice to fall, even if morally it was the wrong thing to do. Not exactly Soviet-like of me, was it? Anyway, you have no idea how hard it is to clean these cockpits.”

Her explanation soothed me on some level, but I also felt heavily indebted to the woman. That wasn’t a bad thing as she was my friend, but I had no idea how I could repay her. She saved my life in more ways than one.

Feeling better with the conversation behind us, I climbed into the cockpit and prepped for takeoff. But as I read each dial and checked all the gauges and switches, tension mounted in my chest. The sidewalls closed in on me, and the air became scorching. Sweat beaded on my forehead and ran down my back. Air hunger built in my lungs, and no matter how large and fast of breaths I took, I couldn’t get enough.