“Do you plan on saluting me Junior Lieutenant, or do you want to dig your grave even deeper?” Raskova said.
I snapped to attention at her cutting remark and gave her the proper honors. “Apologies, comrade major.”
Marina wrinkled her nose and took a half step back. “I suppose I can overlook your hygiene at the moment, given where you are, but you will clean up once we are done. Understand? You’re filthier than a herd of swine stuck in a bog.”
“Yes, comrade major.”
“Now then, you have some explaining to do.” Her expression changed to one of disappointment, and I loathed her next words, more so than if she’d simply been angry with me. “I expected much more out of you since your graduation at Engels. I want to believe in all my girls. Empower them. Defend them. Exalt them. Your recent actions don’t make me want to do any of that with you.”
“I don’t know what to say, comrade major,” I said. My eyes went to my dirty feet. I wanted nothing more than to shrink away into nothingness, but since I knew I couldn’t, I prayed I could salvage my image with her. “I was upset at losing my flight status, and I lost my bearing with Major Kazarinova.”
“Do you think she’s a capable commander?”
I straightened, surprised at the question. A glance to Tamara showed she was caught off guard as well. Was Marina truly asking my opinion on the matter? There wasn’t but one reply to make, was there? In all truth, I didn’t feel qualified to make such a judgment call, despite the gossip I’d heard, so I said the one thing I felt I could. “Major Kazarinova has always been fair and capable, comrade major.”
“Yet you challenged her authority in the most shameful of ways, in front of another pilot, no less.”
“I have no excuse, Major,” I said with a wavering voice. Marina was set against me, and my identity as a pilot was slipping away.
“And what of this business with Commissar Petrov?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest and looking more displeased than ever. “My girls aren’t cowards. They don’t betray the Motherland. They fight with honor and courage. It hurts me even more to think you’d abandon everything we stand for. Do you know how many girls are out there who would die to sit in your plane and fight the fascists?”
My sorrow turned to anger at the mention of Petrov’s name. Throughout all of my days, I might have been as stubborn and hot headed as a boar, but I was no coward. “Petrov’s accusations are lies,” I spat, putting in as much venom as I could. Such comments and attitude could land me in front of a firing squad, but I wanted Marina to know without a doubt my words were true. “I nearly died trying to save Martyona, and I scoured her crash site, hoping she’d somehow lived. Only when I found her body did I work my way back to our lines. All I want to do today is get back in the air and shoot down the man who murdered her.”
Marina exchanged a look with Tamara, and from what I could tell, neither doubted my claims. That said, Marina asked me to recount the entire day, and so I did in vivid, emotional detail. When I was done, she sat on my words for several tense moments. “I believe you,” she said. “But if you can’t fly, you have no place as a pilot in the 586th.”
“I can fly,” I said, clearing my eyes. “My burns hurt from time to time, yes, but I’m more than capable of doing my duty.”
“I know you want to,” she said, this time with a sweet smile and eyes filled with compassion. She put a gentle hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “But both Major Kazarinova and Doctor Ivan think otherwise. I won’t overrule her decisions, especially since by your own mouth she’s a fair and capable commander. You can find service to the Motherland elsewhere.”
I set my jaw and refused to be hung with my own words. In a flash, I jumped up and caught hold of the wooden beam above me. My two superiors watched in silence as I dangled, and I dare say they both looked impressed. I fed off their reaction, used it to anesthetize myself from the burning coursing through my limbs. When I dropped sometime later, proud and assured of my spot, I smiled. “I can fly.”
The corner of Marina’s mouth drew back. “Major Kazarinova, what say you?”
Tamara’s face turned stoic. “I have an empty billet for one pilot. I have two girls wanting it. One is healthy but lacks experience. The other has some experience and is questionably fit at best.”
“I’m not questionable,” I said, trying to keep my rising anger under control. I brought back the edge to my voice as much as I could before going on. “I’ll hang there as long as it takes. I’ll show you my wounds won’t interfere.”
“We’ll see,” Tamara said. She called for the guard, and he darted in the room like a dog coming to its master. “Fetch me Klara Rudneva, and be quick about it.”
He left as fast as he came, and we waited a bit for him to return with Klara. Marina held an inquisitive look, but didn’t ask questions. I suspected she wanted to see where this was going without any influence on her end. I stayed quiet out of fear as I wasn’t sure what was happening.
“Comrade majors,” Klara said, entering the room and giving her proper salute. “I was called?”
“Stand next to Nadya,” Tamara replied.
Klara came to my side with trepidation. She bit a small portion of her lower lip and fidgeted with her hands behind her back. “Am I in trouble?”
“No,” Tamara replied. “You want to fly in my regiment, yes?”
Klara hesitated. “I do, comrade major.”
“You are aware there is only one slot available, yes?” she said. “The two of you are going to compete for it. When I say jump, you both will pull yourselves up on the beam above and hang. Whoever hits the ground first stays on the ground. Understand?”
Klara started to object, but whatever she was going to say, she cut it off at the first syllable and instead gave a short nod. “Yes, comrade major.”
“Good. Now jump.”
The order caught me off guard, and I nearly slipped off the beam the moment I hit it. My muscles protested at the demand I put them through once more. I shifted my grip a few times, trying to rid myself of the stabbing sensation in my palms. But anywhere I held on, it felt like I was driving nails through my wrists.
For the first couple dozen seconds, I stared straight ahead and tried not to focus on anything else but hanging. Klara grunted and drew my attention. Her dark eyes met mine, and though she spoke no words, I could’ve sworn she was apologizing to me. For what, I didn’t know. Sweat trickled in my eyes. My body trembled, and all the while her athletic figure looked as if it hadn’t a smidge of strain upon it. Then I realized she was apologizing because she knew she’d outlast me without trouble.
A lump formed in my throat. If I didn’t fight harder, my life would be over. I thought about what Petrov would do and tightened my grip. I shut my eyes and counted the seconds. Five. Ten. Fifteen. Thirty.
My grip weakened, and I pictured that devilish German ace, rolling his Messer around me, taunting me with his wicked grin, and then pictured the look of shock on his face when I’d turn the tables and blast him apart. The only way I’d see that day is to hang on longer. That final confrontation would be far harder than hanging off some silly beam. I would do it. I had to.
When my arms threatened to rip themselves apart, I thought about what the commissar would do to my family. If they were lucky, they’d be sent naked to a work camp in Siberia and be met with a swift, frozen death. Those thoughts helped me galvanize my body to bend to my will, and the pain faded.
I peeked at Klara. Though she was sweating, she still looked like she could go on for an hour. I shut my eyes and told myself to only worry about my own performance, my own strength. In that moment, my hands gave out, and I crashed to the floor.