C Taylor - Nadya's War

A loud explosion thundered through the air, and Rademacher looked behind me. “I don’t think the Romanian lines will hold much longer,” he said. “My superiors will assume I died on the ground if not in the air. Believe me, I’ve thought long and hard how I can make my exit, and now I have a chance, if you’ll let me live.”

“If I let you live,” I repeated. His words resonated in my soul. I’d been sick of the killing as well, and if the roles were reversed, I’d be making the same plea. But, God, I wanted him dead. No, I wanted more answers first.

He pulled his ID tags from around his neck and tossed them at me. “Take them. Proof to your commanding officers that you won the day.”

I picked the tags off the ground. They were oval with smooth edges and had three holes punched on the top and bottom. In the middle, printed twice, was his unit and a few other numbers I assumed identified him.

“Do you know how many planes I’ve shot down?”

I cocked my head at the unexpected question. He said it with such a flat affect he might as well have been asking if I knew how many brothers and sisters he had. “A lot, judging by the tail on your plane.”

“Yes, a lot,” he said. His face turned morose. “Forty-seven to be exact. You’ve gotten a few as well since we first met in August.”

“You’re number six,” I said.

He smiled as if the number was something both to be proud of and pained over. “You’ve come a long way since then. Such a sloppy flyer our first fight. You still fire too soon and waste ammo. I knew your guns were dry when you set me up with your wingman.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because every night when I go to sleep, I see each kill I made over and over, and I sit there and think about how one day, when I meet my maker, I’ll have to account for all the lives I took. Worse, should I ever be allowed to walk the streets of Paradise, I’ll no doubt come face to face with those souls. I fear their look more than anything.”

“Tell me something. Why didn’t you ever shoot me down?” I asked. “You’ve had a few chances you’ve passed up.”

“I told you, I’m tired of death,” he replied. “You were no longer a threat when I let you go, and I didn’t want my soul blackened any more than it already was.” I don’t know what my face did, but he paused for a moment and nodded. “You know that feeling, don’t you? Executing someone who’s helpless. It’s a wound I fear I might never recover from.”

“Yes. I know what that’s like.”

“So remember that then as you’re deciding what my fate will be. Remember that if you shoot me now, you’re one kill closer to becoming the man we both hate. I admit I want to live to see grandchildren and great grandchildren, but I don’t wish my nightmares upon anyone. Spare yourself my conscious and let me go.”

The wind picked up, biting my already frozen skin. Yet despite the harshness, I sweltered under my jacket as an internal struggle grew. I knew I was at a crossroads, a defining moment in who I was and who I wanted to be. The problem was, I still didn’t know who I was, save being a girl far from normal and having to do and live through things no one should.

I wanted to stop it all, the insanity, the battles, but if there was one thing the war had taught me, it was that I could control little in this world. I couldn’t control which girls lived or died. I couldn’t control what aces I encountered, what missions I went on, what my own countrymen thought of me. I could, however, control my actions in this moment, and I knew whatever I did, I’d think about it to my last day. Did I want to be someone who traded in death or one who dared to believe in life? Thus far I’d known the foremost the best, and it didn’t bring anything but misery.

Slowly, I holstered my weapon, though I was mindful to keep my distance. “Go,” I said. “If peace is what you want, may God speed it to you.”

Rademacher smiled. “Might I have your name before we part?”

“Junior Lieutenant Nadezhda Buzina.”

“Well Junior Lieutenant Buzina, I’m pleased to meet you,” he replied. “Though I do wish it had been under more agreeable circumstances. When this war is over, if you ever find yourself in Lucerne, feel free to find me. I plan on having the best butcher shop in the city. Or maybe a bakery. Or a good pub where people can relax… After all this, I could use a stiff drink. Regardless, I hope our next meeting will be more cordial.”

“Switzerland?” I said with a laugh. “I doubt I’ll be there anytime soon. It’s a bit of a walk.”

“All the more reason I should be going now if I’m to make it.”

A single pistol shot ended the conversation.

Snow kicked up a few paces behind Rademacher. I spun around to find Klara a couple dozen meters away, limping toward us. Her left leg was bloody, but helped support her weight. She clutched her pistol with her right hand and kept it pointed at the German ace. The ire on her face said she’d unintentionally missed.

“Out of the way, Nadya,” she said. “Let’s finish this and get home.”

“No,” I said. “I don’t want you to kill him.”

She stopped, and her brow furrowed. “They’ll be here soon. It’ll be impossible to take him with us.”

I shook my head and steeled myself for the inevitable confrontation. This was going to get ugly, and though I was certain Klara wouldn’t understand, I had a fool’s hope she would. “I’m not taking him prisoner, and I’m not executing a defenseless man. I’m letting him go.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” I glanced to Rademacher. While he looked thankful, tension stayed etched on his face. I doubt he had half as much confidence I could control the situation as I did, and the little I had was fragile. “Please, hear him out.”

“I’m not listening to a damn thing he’s said. He killed our friends. He tried to kill me. God, Nadya, how many times has he tried to kill you?”

“Too many,” I replied. “But it’s more complicated than I thought, or maybe it’s simpler. I don’t know. What I do know is he wants out of the Luftwaffe and out of the war. He’s not a threat, and I refuse to kill someone who’s surrendered. I won’t be that kind of girl.”

Klara looked at me incredulously. “Think, Nadya. Of course he’ll say that. He’ll say whatever it takes to save his hide.”

“I will say whatever it takes,” Rademacher said. “But I wasn’t lying. If you let me go, I’ll make my way to Switzerland and never fight again.”

“Quiet! Speaking Russian won’t win trust with me,” she said. The barrel of her gun dropped, but only for a second. Her face twisted, and her eyes studied every centimeter of my body. “And why should I trust you, Nadya, especially after what Petrov said about your family?”

“He wanted me dead, Klara. He’d say anything to turn you against me.”

“I saw your reaction, Nadya. I’m not stupid.”

In that moment, I had a huge choice to make. If I lied, our relationship would continue to crack, possibly die right then and there. If I told her the truth about my parents, I had to believe she’d keep quiet, not only for my sake, but the sake of countless others. I hesitated, which I wasn’t proud of, but I realized at this point she could’ve knifed me several times over before and hadn’t yet.

“You’re not stupid,” I said. “My family fought with White Army. While I’m proud they stood up for what was right, I’m not dumb either. I have to keep it quiet or everyone will suffer the consequences. I hope you understand. But I swear on all that is dear to me, we’re on the same side.”

“And the morphine?”