C Taylor - Nadya's War

Sweat gripped my palms, and my arms ached. “What for?”

“I wanted you to hear it from me first, but you’re being pulled from the roster. I’m sorry.”

For about fifteen minutes, the entire 586 thregiment stood in formation outside the command post and listened to Major Aleksandr Gridnev introduce himself. I stood in the back, so I didn’t get a good look at him, which was just as well. After what Zhenia had said, I was so irate I think my tongue would’ve come loose the moment he and I made eye contact.

Gridnev explained that he’d been transferred from the 82 ndFighter Aviation Regiment, and though he’d commanded them for some time, he looked forward to working with all of us. All of the girls except for myself were both attentive and pleasant. I, on the other hand, was plotting all the nasty things I’d say—and do—when he finally told me my wings were clipped. I also was trying to figure out how long I’d be in the box afterward. My best guess was four weeks. Five tops.

Though I missed most of his speech, I did catch his answers to two direct questions. The first of his answers was the 586 thwould be moving to the front lines when he felt satisfied we were all ready. He indicated he’d like this to be sooner rather than later since the Luftwaffe continued their relentless pounding of Stalingrad. The tractor factory in the city, a mini-stronghold for our forces, had recently weathered seven hundred attacks by dive bombers alone. His eagerness to see us in action energized the crowd, as most of the girls wanted to prove themselves in combat and had yet to do so. The second thing he told us was he was here to stay forever as Tamara had been transferred to the Air Defense Headquarters.

The girls were split on Tamara’s reassignment. Some, like Zhenia, wished she’d be stripped of her rank and sent to a penal brigade. Others were much more forgiving. I think I was more in the latter group. While I did feel Tamara shouldn’t have sent Valeriia up that night, I knew she was under immense pressure from brass and tried her best. Unfortunately, her best wasn’t good enough. Maybe she should have quietly retired. I did wish I could’ve said goodbye to her. Not being able to felt as if she’d died since she’d vanished.

When it was over, Gridnev dismissed us all, and then had me follow him to the command post. To my surprise, he also had Alexandra join us as well. I figured that was probably a good thing. I might kill the man if we were alone when he said I was no longer a pilot.

“Sit, sit,” he said, taking his seat behind Tamara’s old desk.

I eased into one of two chairs across from him and studied my new adversary. He was taller than I was by a half-dozen centimeters. He looked solid under his olive jacket, which was as immaculate as I’d come to expect from any upper officer. His face was round with a jaw as strong as a Soviet winter. He wore a clean shave and short hair that had a touch of grey. He tried to look serious, but his brown eyes smiled like a newborn’s.

He kept the desk neater than Tamara had, for there were only two things on it, the officer’s hat he’d tossed there a moment ago and the picture of an intense-looking man with large eyes that stared into the distance with a face that hinted at being Flemish. He wore the uniform of a marshal. The dark coat with two rows of gilt buttons and large stars on the collar made his rank obvious. I felt like I should know the man, but I drew a blank. “Good morning, Major,” I said, remembering to be polite. “Was he a friend of yours?”

Gridnev glanced at the picture. “Tukhachevsky? No, but he was of my father.”

I straightened in surprise. While I didn’t know what he’d looked like, I knew the name. Everyone did. Mikhail Tukhachevsky was one of several high-ranking officers killed by Stalin’s purging of the Red Army five years prior. “Why do you have his picture?” I asked, unable to come up with any guess of my own. “I’d think displaying such a… person would bring unwanted attention.”

“I’ve already had unwanted attention, Junior Lieutenant,” he said. “Twice, in fact. I keep his picture as a reminder of what this world can be like.”

“Comrade major?”

“A place where friends can be enemies and enemies can be friends, and being a hero makes no difference in the end.” He stopped, and I was certain he was going to say more on the matter, but didn’t. “Enough of that. I’d like to discuss your flying.”

“What about it, comrade major?” I asked, exchanging a brief glance with Alexandra.

“I’ve been going over your file,” Gridnev said, pulling two folders from the drawer in his desk. “Hers as well.”

Concern washed over Alexandra’s face. Though she had her hands folded in her lap to appear professional, I could see her fidgeting with them. “Have we done something wrong?”

“Commissar Petrov seems to think so.”

I swore. Gridnev arched an eyebrow and Alexandra gasped. “Apologies, comrade major,” I said, even though I wasn’t at all sorry. “Permission to speak freely on the matter?”

“For the moment.”

“Commissar Petrov has had it out for me for months and is looking for any excuse to do me in. He’s a liar and a loose cannon, doing far more harm than good. I’d also like to mention Major Kazarinova nearly shot him herself for his behavior.”

“Those are serious remarks, Junior Lieutenant.”

“It’s all the truth,” I said. “I don’t know what he’s told you, but I’m sure they’re lies.”

“Honestly, I don’t care,” he said. “About a week ago, all of the political commissars lost their command functions, which means all military decisions are back in the hands of military officers. Since I don’t know Petrov from the ass end of a badger and I’m not fond of the NKVD, I don’t care what he has to say, and I told him that. I also told him I intended to keep Major Kazarinova’s order in place that he’s not to bother any of you, or I’d send him away as well.”

I could have kissed him right then and there. I almost did. “Thank you, comrade major. You won’t regret it.”

“None of that, however, addresses my original concerns regarding your flying,” he replied. “Tell me what happened on your patrol on 30 September.”

Alexandra and I exchanged confused looks. I was the first to speak. “Was the after-action report lacking?”

Gridnev pulled our statements out of the file and lined them up next to each other. “The two accounts were thorough, especially near the beginning where you both describe spotting and subsequently following an unidentified aircraft. Curious, don’t you think, that you two say the exact same thing?”

“I’m not sure I follow,” I replied.

“Don’t insult my intelligence, Junior Lieutenant,” he said, leaning forward with a grunt. “This never happened.”

I mentally kicked myself for such a dumb mistake. We were too specific in the same details for the story to hold up under scrutiny. Tamara was likely as excited as we were that we brought down two Luftwaffe to have noticed. Despite being nailed to the wall, I refused to give up. Maybe I could salvage something. I didn’t want to lie anymore, but I hoped I could redirect. “We brought down those planes. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“I know. The recon flight that spotted the wreckage is in the final report. But you did lie about the aircraft you spotted prior to the fight.”

“It was my idea,” Alexandra said. “I wanted to head south. Our patrols were boring, and my little brother Viktor keeps writing, wanting to know how many Germans we shot down. I wanted to be able to write him back with exciting news.”

Gridnev eyed us. The shine in his eyes disappeared, and his stare chilled me to the bone. “Is this accurate, Junior Lieutenant Buzina? That’s a severe breach of responsibilities.”