C Taylor - Nadya's War

“How could I? How could I not!” I yelled. “God, Klara! That psychotic ass was going to kill us both!”

Women and men from the entire regiment appeared, many with guns. Gridnev ran toward us as well, sidearm in hand. At that moment, I knew I’d be executed before sundown.

I sat on the straw mat in the box, rubbing my ankles. I was grateful the fetters that had been on them the first day had been removed, but my skin was still sore even though eight days had passed. Truth be told, I was surprised I was still in the box at this point and not dumped in a shallow grave, but I didn’t regret what I’d done. I was glad to have stood up to Petrov, and if I were to die, at least I’d die true to myself and not hiding. Thankfully, Klara would escape it all. I only hoped whatever was in store for me wouldn’t be visited on my parents as well.

I spent some time thinking about Alexandra’s comment about God brushing teeth as well. Even though she’d been far from a religious scholar, let alone a leader or believer, the more I turned her idea over the more it made sense to me—or at least, gave me hope. Maybe things we saw as awful were necessary for growth for reasons we’d never understand this side of life. It still wasn’t a perfect answer, but I felt it had possibilities.

I took to my feet when I heard some talk near the door. By my best guess, it was still a few hours away from whatever scraps they’d feed me for dinner, but it sounded as if the guard was debating with someone on whether or not he was allowed to let that person in. The door opened, and Zhenia walked in. On top of the flight jacket, gloves, and goggles, she wore a look of concern and helplessness.

“I’m taking Klara up for an escort soon,” she said. She kept a few paces away, though I suspected it was not by her choice. If I had to wager, she was on the verge of crushing me in a hug. “I thought you should know since she’ll be flying your plane.”

“It’s hers now?”

Zhenia nodded. “Likely, yes. But we’re also getting replacement fighters soon. They might give her one of those, but I suspect not since she worked on yours and knows it better than any.”

The news didn’t surprise me. I’d figured Gridnev would do such a thing. In another time, another life, I’d have been jealous. Now, I only wanted to be sure she’d live through the war when clearly I wouldn’t. I would’ve liked one last kiss with her as well, but if wishes were horses. “Is she ready?”

“She’s too afraid to pull G’s,” Zhenia replied. “She thinks she’ll blackout and crash, which is bad in a dogfight. But she’s a natural at anticipating her opponent’s maneuvers. I’d hate to be in her sights once she gets over her fears.”

I laughed. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Well this should then. The Luftwaffe have almost disappeared over Stalingrad.”

Shock hit me harder than Petrov had hit my cheek. “Why?”

“We’re not sure,” she said. “The British and Americans have made big gains in North Africa. We think the bulk of the Luftwaffe in the area have been reassigned to help that front.”

“It’s about damn time our allies drew them away,” I said. “I have half a mind to think they waited this long on purpose.”

Zhenia snorted. “You’re far from alone on that thought. Regardless, despite Hitler’s early advances, with so many countries pushing against him now, his industry will never keep up. Mark my words, the Luftwaffe will stay overstretched until his country is in ruin. With luck, Klara will have good experience by the time she encounters her first real dogfight.”

“I hope so.”

“One last thing,” she said. “I want you to know none of the other girls believe anything Petrov said about you.”

I smiled. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.”

The door opened again, and this time it was Gridnev who entered. Where Zhenia had come to me with concern on her face, he came with irritation and weariness. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind that Zhenia was in the box with me. Perhaps he’d given her clearance before, something I’d considered likely, given that the guard had let her in. “See to your duties, Zhenia,” he said, throwing her a glance. “Nadya and I have matters to discuss.”

When she left and shut the door, I decided to get right to the heart of things. There was only one reason why he was here. “When’s my trial?”

“The twenty-fourth of December. You get to sit here for a month.”

My eyebrows arched. This was the second bit of news I hadn’t expected whatsoever. “You mean rot. Why so long?”

“Things are… happening on the front,” he replied. “Oddly enough, we can’t spare the time or manpower for a trial since the brass wants upper officers not connected to any of this to preside.” He sighed and shook his head. “And then there’s the absurdity of the entire situation. A respected pilot and a decorated commissar get into a fight and one ends up dead. That doesn’t look good no matter how the pieces fall. Brass wants this dealt with neatly, quietly, if that’s even possible. I dare say they don’t know what to do.”

I seized the moment like a starving dog being tossed a scrap of chicken. “I shot in self-defense. He would have killed me if I hadn’t.”

“I believe you, but the only other person there was Klara, and she says it all happened too fast for her to make sense of it,” he said. His face turned grave. “And then there’s the burnt syrette. I know you said he planted it, but the brass is sending an interrogator to see how truthful you are and to test your loyalty. I presented your side as best I could, but they weren’t convinced of your innocence. I think my words are the only reason you’re still alive.”

My throat tightened, and I could feel the strength in my legs wane. At least it seemed Klara had kept quiet about the syrette. I guessed she was hoping that it was an old one, and it was, but from her point of view, I knew she couldn’t be certain. God, that had to be eating her alive, trying to decide whether to stay true to me or her country. All of that, however, was secondary to my feelings about an interrogation. “I’d rather be dead.”

“For your sake, so would I,” he said. “However, that doesn’t change anything.”

I slumped against the wall. “What will become of me?”

“It depends on your questioning,” he replied. “I doubt anything good. If there’s anything I can do for you in the meantime, I will.”

At first, I didn’t give much thought to his comment as I considered it a passing politeness and nothing he could make good on. When the current state of the war popped into mind, I thought I’d take a shot at something, even if it seemed impossible. “You could let me fly one last time. I’d like to go up with Klara if I could so she could see who I really am, before my wings are clipped forever—before I’m beaten and killed. I don’t want to die with her thinking I’m a drug addict and a thief.”

Gridnev chuckled. There was even a touch of life in his eyes. “I don’t either, but I don’t think that will be possible. Innocence will only come from your interrogation.”

Refusing to be dissuaded, I pressed the idea. “Something big is going on, yes? Surely you need every pilot and plane available.”

Gridnev folded his arms and drummed his fingers. I thought for a moment he wasn’t going to say anything on the matter but was proven wrong when he replied. “There’s a counter offensive about to be launched and details are on a need-to-know basis, but yes, we need everyone for it, which is why your trial has been pushed so far back.”

“Let me fight,” I begged. “Let me fly one last time. Let me prove to those who would judge my character who I am.”