C Taylor - Nadya's War

“Coming around now from his eleven,” Valeriia said. “Get clear.”

“Already done,” I said, positioning myself high for a follow up to Valeriia’s second attack, but it wasn’t needed. She raked the poor bomber from nose to tip. It turned on its side and fell from the sky like a falling star. When it hit the ground, the explosion lit up the sky.

“One down,” Valeriia said with pride.

“Stay focused. It’s not over,” Zhenia said. “Find the others and call your targets.”

I scanned the area. The darkness was disorienting. Even with the searchlights shining, at times it was hard to tell where my plane was going since I was half blind, and I worried I might fly straight into the ground. Sadly, the night vision in my right eye wouldn’t return for another twenty or thirty minutes.

I’d like to say we downed more, but our luck ran out. Each of us tried to make attacks on other bombers caught in the lights, but they would drop their bombs and peel off into the darkness before any of us caught up to them. I could only hope they were jettisoning their ordnance to get away and weren’t hitting their targets.

A few minutes came and went in silence, other than the occasional request by Zhenia to report our location to avoid collision. My hands ached, and the cold made it worse, despite the fleece-lined coat, wool sweater, and leather gloves I wore.

I wanted to land, to find a fire and warm my arm and stop the pain, but I knew I couldn’t. To distract myself, I pulled out a penlight and checked the gauges on my instrument panel. Everything was where it should be, except the engine temperature was climbing. I tapped the glass in front of the needle, but nothing changed.

“I’m running hot,” I said. I looked over my shoulder, but saw only dark. “I can’t see anything, but I must be leaking coolant.”

“Head home, Nadya,” Zhenia replied. “We can take it from here.”

I kept a nervous eye on the temperature gauge as I flew back to the airfield. The needle continued to climb, but I was confident I had enough time to land before heat seized the engine. I stuffed the penlight back in my jacket and concentrated on flying.

Pain intensified in my right arm, and my eyes watered. Basic flying became a monumental task as every move on the flight stick shot fire from my wrist to my elbow. My vision wobbled, and my stomach threatened to empty itself.

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.

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 586 th. 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?”