C Taylor - Nadya's War

For a brief moment, I thought about letting Alexandra fall on the sword for me. I’m not sure why she volunteered to. Perhaps she thought she would only be reprimanded while I was facing much worse, but I couldn’t let her do that. “It’s not true,” I replied. I put a hand on Alexandra as she started forward, I presume to argue. “She’s trying to protect me. The truth is, I’m the one who had to prove myself. I gave the order to fly south as the patrols we were being sent on amounted to nothing during the day. I needed the kill.”

“Still your wingman even while on the ground, eh?” he said. He leaned back in his chair, looking impressed. “What did you need the kill for? Pride?”

“To make a difference in the war,” I said. That part was true, but it wasn’t the entire truth. I sensed he might suspect such a thing, so I filled him in on the rest. “I was also afraid Kazarinova was looking to have me replaced once we returned. I didn’t want my service to end in disgrace, and I figured if I had a kill under my belt, she’d reconsider.”

“Why would she replace you?”

“On account of my burns,” I said, showing him my palms. “She was afraid they’d interfere with my ability to function in the air.”

Gridnev stuffed the reports back into the folder. “That’s close to what I suspected,” he said. “Major Kazarinova had mentioned them in your file, but I wanted to hear all of this from your mouth before I committed to any decision.”

“So I’m losing my wings then?”

Before he could answer, Alexandra scooted forward and weighed in. “Comrade major, she’s one of the best pilots here, even if she’s not the easiest to manage. She’ll be an ace before this war is over.”

“Thank you, Junior Lieutenant. I’ve got a good enough picture of what she’s like,” he replied. “I’ve already decided—”

“No!” I said, jumping to my feet. My heart skipped a beat, and the room seemed to shrink all around us. “I’m sorry for the outburst, comrade major, but please reconsider.”

“Sit down, Junior Lieutenant,” he said. As soon as my butt hit the seat, he continued. “I’m not stripping you of your wings, but I’m not going to tolerate you losing your bearing either. I am your superior officer, and if you value your freedom and ability to fly, you will remember that.”

My mouth hung open. My world had flipped so many times in the last hour I couldn’t make sense of it all. “But Zhenia…”

“Would do well not to make assumptions based on a few scribbles to the roster sheet,” he said.

I shrank back in the seat. “Oh thank goodness.”

“Or me,” he said.

“You too.”

“Now then, I am moving you from the standard rotation,” he said as Alexandra nudged me with her shoulder. “What I want is something special, top secret. Something I only feel comfortable enough giving to girls who do what you two did a couple of weeks ago.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“We’re going to make some deep strikes behind German lines,” he said. “Command will have a fit if they find out what I’m proposing, as they’d say it’s far too risky and this is a defensive regiment. But I’m of the opinion we need to do more than babysit bridges if Stalingrad is going to hold.”

“Are we going to fly there then?” I asked.

“No. Luftwaffe have that area in their grasp, and I don’t want to send you to your deaths,” he said. He pointed to a few areas on the map west of us. “There are supply lines the Germans consider relatively safe. If we hit those a few times, they’ll have no choice but to divert some of their airpower away from the city.”

“Thereby helping our soldiers,” I finished.

“Exactly. It also means you can’t speak of this to anyone for now. You also have to volunteer. I will say this, however: if we’re successful, there’s a good chance we can bait Gerhard Rademacher out of Stalingrad. Kazarinova mentioned you wanted to avenge Martyona’s loss, and I’d be happy to help make that happen.”

Pride rose in my chest, and at the same time, I was astounded he thought I was skilled enough to be put on such daring missions. However, I didn’t need any convincing. I didn’t care where he wanted us to fly, how heavily defended the target was, or if we would even be expected to come back. If agreeing to his plans meant shooting down the man who killed Martyona, I was ready. “Tell us where to go, Major.”

The following day, Alexandra and I took off from Anisovka before sunrise and headed west toward Voronezh, a city built near the site where the Voronezh River dumped into the Don. It was also a city the Germans had taken three months prior on their march to Stalingrad. Reports of what enemy forces now occupied the area varied since the bulk had moved southwest, but Gridnev felt it was a prime location for our first hunt. Given all the uncertainty, I prayed it would be a fruitful one—a safe one—and then prayed again begging for an answer when I felt as if those prayers fell yet again on deaf ears.

We landed sixty kilometers east of the city on an old field serving as a secondary landing strip. All we had to guide us in were two small fires, one lit at each end of the field. Once we were on the ground, a truck pulled in between us and began refilling our fuel tanks. Two men worked the line between the truck and our planes while another stood guard. He wouldn’t be able to do much with his rifle, but I suppose it was better than nothing.

Alexandra and I had been ordered to stay in our aircraft during the refueling before we left, and we were also on radio silence to help conceal our location. I didn’t like not knowing how she was, so I popped the latches to the canopy, slid it back, and made the excuse I needed to see her for the sake of the mission.

It was a short trot to her plane, and I hopped up on the wing and knocked on her canopy. She jumped in fright, and I nearly fell off the plane laughing. Once she opened her cockpit, I tried to recompose myself as best I could. “Did you think I was the Baba Yaga come to steal you away?”

“Not funny,” she said, soured. “I hate being this close to the front and not in the air. You should have at least warned me you were coming over.”

“Wanted to make sure no fascists snuck up on you. Still up for this?”

Alexandra nodded. “Where you go, I go.”

“Shouldn’t be much longer. Glad you’re okay.”

“Are you okay? That’s the real question,” she said. “Your arm bothering you?”

I looked down and realized I had it tucked hard against my midsection. She knew me far too well for me to outright lie, but I didn’t want her to worry. “It hurts, and it’s so cold I feel like I’m only wearing a nightgown,” I said. “It should be better once dawn comes and things warm up.”

“We’re almost done, comrade pilot,” one of the soldiers called out. “I must insist you return to your plane.”

Alexandra nodded toward my fighter. “Better go. If you say you can fly, I’m with you, but if not, let’s scrub the mission. We can always go out again.”

“I can fly. I promise.” I hopped off her wing and returned to my plane. Climbing into the cockpit and strapping in, I wished my words had been true, but while the cold made my wounds worse, I’d noticed lately even when I was bundled and warm, the pain threatened to get the better of me. Only one thing helped.

I pulled a morphine syrette out of my pocket and turned it over a few times in my hand. I’d managed to snag another box the prior night, knowing I’d need more. Relief was but one tiny stick away. I didn’t use the morphine prior to leaving Anisovka as the higher doses I was now taking ruined my night vision and muddled my thoughts. The former spelled a recipe for disaster when flying in the dark, and the latter could be dangerous as well, even more so when it came to navigation.