“You always smell like vanilla sugar somehow,” she said. “Sweet and wholesome. Like Yana’s cookies.”
“I’m sure she’ll have platters of them waiting when you get home,” I said, wondering how soon that day would come for Oksana. Sooner than for me, I wagered. I was certain she’d need time to heal from this injury and hoped the advances westward would have the war tied up before she was fit for service again.
“No, Katya,” Oksana said, her whisper even lower. “She’s gone.”
I gingerly tightened my embrace for a moment. “When did you receive word?”
“She died before the war started. When Stalin had his head up his ass and refused to stop the German army until they practically set up offices at the Kremlin.”
“What reason could they have for killing a young girl?” From the few times Oksana had mentioned Yana, I couldn’t imagine she was like us. She wasn’t the kind to take up arms.
“She was Jewish.” Oksana sighed. “They killed her, her parents, her baby brother. Gunned them down like stray dogs.”
“My God, Oksana. I had no idea. You always spoke of her as though she lived and breathed still.”
“I couldn’t bring myself to say otherwise,” Oksana said. “You keep alive for your Vanya. Taisiya had her Matvei. I had to have something to cling to.”
The meaning of her words seeped into me like the cold, dank air of the cave. She could never have spoken this way before. One word about exactly how dear Yana had been to her could well have resulted in her losing her wings and her place in the regiment.
What words of solace could I offer? This sullen girl now made perfect sense as I held her bleeding in my arms. She wasn’t simply angry. She’d been grieving. She used her churlish mask to protect her from the reality of life without Yana. She needed that mask to fight—to exact some revenge from the people who had cut short a life that had been so precious to her.
“Oksana, I wish I’d known. I would have tried to understand… tried to help you cope with it all. I would have been a better friend.”
“You were always a good friend to me, Katya. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”
“Nonsense,” I said, wishing I could think of more instances when I’d reached out to her when we’d first met. Tried to get to know her when she was still reeling from her loss.
“I need you to do something for me,” she said.
“Anything,” I said, stroking the back of her head, my fingers brushing over her silver-blond tresses.
“Can you take word to my family in Aix? My parents are gone, but my aunt and uncle, my cousin—I want them to remember me. And I don’t want them to hear about it in a letter. Take Yana’s drawing to them. You can take whatever you want from my effects and give them the rest.”
“Don’t talk like that, Oksana. We’re getting up. We’re going now if you’re going to try to give in like this.” I moved to release her from my arms and stand, but she summoned the strength to clutch my suit and keep me seated.
“It’s too late for me, Katya. Too much blood. I feel light. Like floating. Please just promise me.” The color in her lips had gone from rosy to blue, and she’d begun to shiver. She spoke the truth, and there was nothing I could do to save her.
I gripped her close to my chest, hoping to spread my warmth to her. “I can’t promise,” I said, not wanting any of our final words to be half-truths or empty promises. “But if I survive, I will do my best. I’ll beg for papers. I’ll do what I can.”
“That’s all I can ask,” Oksana said. I felt her muscles relax, as though I’d relieved her of a heavy burden. “Take your Vanya with you. Have a proper honeymoon by the sea.”
“Can’t you please try?” I pressed my lips to the top of her silvery head, my tears streaming into her hair. “We can try to get you back to the base.”
“I’ll slow you down too much, Katya. You need to go. Soon. I can’t risk your life for the slim chance of saving mine.”
“Oksana—”
“That’s an order from your superior officer. The others need you, Katya. And I’ve done my part. I can die knowing that I have.”
“I can’t lead them the way you and Sofia did,” I said, wiping my face free of the tears.
“No, you’ll lead them in your own way. Tell the commanders I named you as my preferred replacement, though I’m sure they will know it. Now go, Katya. Stay low. I haven’t heard bombs for a while now, so you should be clear from our side.”
She trembled in my arms, from cold, pain, and exhaustion, I was sure, no longer from fear. I wanted to argue. I wanted to refuse to leave. I did not want to disturb the peace of her last moments on earth with a dispute, however, and knew she would only repeat her order if I countermanded her.
My shivers equaled hers as I pulled away from our embrace. I lowered my face to hers and kissed her lips. She’d gone so long without tenderness. Her lips were cold as I pressed mine against them, wishing the air from my lungs could breathe life into hers.
She looked up with her gray-blue eyes, her gaze distant as she tried to focus on my face. “Thank you, Katya. Go and be well. Go home to your Vanya, and make some little painters. The world needs more painters.”
“And the first girl will be Oksana. For you.”
I kissed the top of her head once more and dashed for the mouth of the cave before I lost the resolve to leave.
The camp can’t be far. I can make it there in time and round up a search crew. The brass will allow it for the commander of the regiment. They have to.
I wasn’t more than ten meters away when I heard the crack of her service pistol. I stopped stock still for a moment and swiveled back to look at the entrance to the cave where Oksana’s body now lay.
I could go back and face the scene she tried to spare me from, or I could follow her orders.
I turned in the direction of the sun, whose weak rays had just begun to break over the crests to the east, and placed one foot in front of the other, back to where my duty called me.
CHAPTER 23
Sorties: 795
It was more than twenty-four hours later before I found our camp due to the blanket of snow, the snarls of roots and branches on the forest floor, and my slow progress as I tried to make my passage as silent as possible. My attempts to avoid the attention of any German sentries made for an arduous slog through the Polish wilderness. With each step farther from the German bases, I grew more certain that Oksana could not have survived the journey. Her orders had been just, and they had very likely saved my life.
We’d been written off for dead, as two other teams had seen our crash. They hadn’t seen us deploy our chutes, and even if they had, any attempt to recover us on the German side of the front would have been a suicide mission.
“If we’d seen you—” Svetlana began.
“You would have stayed put or risked your life for no purpose,” I scolded, sipping from the piping-hot cup of tea that Renata refreshed as soon as it began to empty. Her mother had procured a tin of fine tea leaves from the factory where she worked. A token of appreciation for her daughter’s service to be sent to the front. It was as fine a black tea as one might see on the tables of the highest government officials, perfumed with just the right blend of spices. Renata knew me well enough not to ruin the effect by adding any milk or sugar.
“I can’t believe you walked all that way,” Polina mused for the sixth time, inspecting the damaged skin on my feet. She wrestled with calling a medic to look at them, but I refused to let her, pulling rank despite my own objections to the practice. I’d endured weeks of convalescence after losing Taisiya. I couldn’t bear it a second time while mourning for Oksana.