C Taylor - Nadya's War

For the third time in the last hour, I wondered if I and the rest of the squadron would be better off if I handed in my wings, but I still feared Petrov would pounce on me the moment I did. He was still around and asking questions, even talking sweet to Klara, and each day I wondered if that would be the day he would strike.

I massaged my arm as best I could, trying to remember what Alexandra had taught me as I shut my eyes. I slowed my breathing, imagined a warm summer day filled with laughter and friends, imagined my body letting the pain go. It worked, slowly, but not as well as the morphine did. Probably a good thing, I thought, that Klara had taken the box and I hadn’t any.

My eyes snapped opened. In a panic, I rolled to my left and slipped my hand between the mattress and the earthen wall, feeling around for the tear. It didn’t take long to find it, and even less to probe the hay and pull out the syrette I’d stashed there long ago. I had one left. God… I had one left.

I turned it over several times, studying its small body and pointed tip. I could fly, if I wanted, free of misery, but also free of friends and self-respect. My gut tightened. I hurried over to the oil drum and tossed it in. “Burn in hell.”

“Scramble, Nadya! We’re flying early!”

I jumped at Alexandra’s call. “God, please tell me we’re not.”

“Nadya! Get out here!”

I heard her coming and fumbled putting on my boots.

Alexandra ran in. Her cheeks were rosy from the weather, and her smile was as bright as the gleam in her eyes. All that faded when she held my gaze. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m exhausted,” I said. “I was hoping to catch a quick nap. Why the sudden rush?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I guess they wanted Rakhinka resupplied sooner rather than later.”

Before I could protest, Alexandra grabbed my hand and pulled me out. We raced across the airfield, passing pilots and crews, and soon I was hopping onto the wing of my fighter and climbing into the open cockpit.

Klara appeared at my side and yanked my belt tight. “Be careful,” she said with a flutter in her voice. “I’m looking forward to picking up where we left off last night, so you better come home in one piece.”

Oh, how I wanted to return to the other night as well, where my kisses found a way down her neck and her nails found their way down my back. And God how I hated how secret it all had to be. I took her hand and pressed it against my chest. “As long as it beats, I’ll always come back to you. Don’t worry.”

“I mean it,” she said. “Something’s felt off since I woke, and I know the cold has to be affecting you more than usual. So don’t take any chances, yes?”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Klara leaned in and kissed my cheek. She wanted more, I knew, but there were too many eyes on the airfield. “Come back to me safe, Nadya.”

“I always do.”

She jumped down, and I went through my pre-flight checklist. Focusing on everything I needed to do to get off the ground helped ease my worries as it built my confidence I could still function despite lack of sleep and a gnawing arm. Once I was done, Klara cleared the prop, and I started up the engine. It roared to life, and Klara pulled the chocks free. My plane rolled forward, taxiing toward the runway. A couple of minutes later, Alexandra and I were southbound with our escort.

“Little Boar, this is Raven,” said the pilot of the Li-2 transport. “Nice to have a pair of budding aces along with us for the trip.”

I smiled at the praise, but anxieties persisted. This was one flight where I didn’t want any Luftwaffe around, most of all Rademacher. “If it’s all the same to you, Raven, I’d be more than happy with this being a boring run.”

“Negative, Little Boar. Stay alert,” the pilot replied. “Fascists are fighting tooth and nail at Stalingrad. There’s a decent chance of us being intercepted.”

“Wonderful,” I muttered, making sure the radio didn’t pick up the comment.

Alexandra and I took staggered positions high and on opposite sides of the transport plane. The three of us flew over the landscape, less than a kilometer above the earth in order to keep our chances of being spotted to a minimum. However, so close to the ground, if we were caught, we wouldn’t have a lot of options to escape or fight back. Altitude, after all, could become speed. And speed was life. The only thing I could do was keep a sharp watch on the skies and pray they remained empty.

“We should dance more,” Alexandra said over the radio. “I miss it, and I need the practice.”

I giggled at the thought. Here we were, escorting supplies and ammunition to an airfield near the front, likely about to be pounced by Messers, and my dear, sweet wingman could only think about her waltz. Maybe once we landed, we could pass the time doing that.

“You do need the practice,” I said.

“At what?”

“Dancing,” I teased. “I’d be embarrassed to be your fiancé. You’ll probably topple you both dancing at the wedding.”

Alexandra laughed. It was nervous and unsettling. “Finally decided to reply to me? Or could you not wait another ten minutes till we landed?”

I bit my lower lip, and I checked the clock. Nearly an hour had passed since we’d left Anisovka. Frantic, I looked left and right and over both shoulders, looking for something, anything, to show I hadn’t lost track of that much time.

The snowy terrain beneath the three of us looked unfamiliar. I didn’t recognize any of the roads or buildings I could pick out over the landscape. But the view of a large, round lake off my left wing made my heart skip a beat.

It was Lake Elton, no doubt about it. As much as I wished otherwise, it meant we were on the final leg of our journey, and I had indeed lost track of a half hour. God knows why I didn’t crash or veer off course. I could only thank Him profusely that I’d managed to subconsciously fly where I was supposed to despite how tired I was. Maybe He still smiled on me from time to time.

“Welcome to Rakhinka, Little Boar,” said a male voice I didn’t recognize over the radio. “This is Badger. You are to circle the airfield until Raven has landed.”

I slapped myself across the face as hard as I could. I cursed myself for becoming distracted again. I had to think. Had to concentrate. Had to wake up. Had to reply. “Understood, Badger. Holding.”

I checked Alexandra’s position off my wing and entered a slight bank. The Rakhinka airstrip had a similar layout to the one in Anisovka with one main runway and a few taxiways that led to parking, hangars, and refueling areas. There were a lot more gun emplacements because of the airfield’s close proximity to Stalingrad. In fact, if I looked west, I could see plumes of smoke rising on the horizon—signs of the continued conflict in that great city. I wondered how the morale was for those on the ground. Did they fight with valiance or desperation? Possibly both. One thing I knew: the killing was far from over.

“Little Boar, correct your heading to zero-nine-zero! Acknowledge!”

“Correcting,” I said, slapping myself one more time and turning on heading. “Got caught up looking at Stalingrad. Apologies.”

“Understood, Little Boar.” The man over the radio sounded calmer, which helped me relax. “You’re cleared for landing, right-hand approach. Little Boar Two, you will remain in pattern until she’s clear of the runway.”

“As always,” Alexandra replied.

I flexed my hands and rolled my shoulders. I craned my head to the right, and my eyes locked on to the runway over my shoulder. Even if my mind was an exhausted mess, this was a simple approach. The day was beautiful. My plane was in tip-top shape. I could do this.