“To what end?”
I shrugged again. “No idea.” A headache formed, and I rubbed my temples. “I’d rather not think about it anymore. It’s not helping my mood, and I’m still irritated Tamara didn’t give me that kill.”
Alexandra beamed as if she’d stumbled on a mine full of diamonds. “I have the perfect fix, if you’re interested.”
“What’s that?”
“How about a dance?” she asked. “Always makes me feel better.”
“Do you waltz?”
“Is Kazarinova a bitter cripple stuck on the ground?”
I laughed, hard. Before I could say anything, there was a heavy thud on the door, and the same guard from before appeared in the window. “Shut up and stand up.”
I took to my feet without word, though Alexandra and I shared glances and stifled giggles. Maybe it was the absurdity of it all or the delirium from being tired and beaten, but whatever it was, I couldn’t help but find the entire ordeal hilarious.
The guard turned away, and Alexandra nudged me with her elbow. “We should waltz out of here when they let us go,” she whispered. “Imagine their faces if we did.”
“I can imagine us getting flogged for it,” I said. The corners of my mouth drew back and I gave a curtsy. “But I can think of nothing lovelier than if we did.”
Days came and went. We were supposed to have been cut free after a full day, but Tamara caught us both laughing and enjoying ourselves far too much that second morning and gave us another forty-eight hours to think about life, our contribution to the war, and whether or not we wanted to stay assigned to the fighter regiment. I’m sure she wished she had another cell so she could separate us, but this was the only one at the base.
From the time she left, we played our part, and we played it well. Whenever the guards looked in on us, we kept straight and somber faces. The reality was, however, we both became exceptional at keeping our eyes on the door, looking for any stray shadow or sign of movement, all the while entertaining ourselves to no end during the day. And for an hour or two at night, we waltzed in the dark, taking care to avoid the small sliver of light from outside and letting our bodies relish the movement.
Alexandra was a fantastic dancer. She kept a perfect rhythm and never once had a misstep or lost her balance, despite our pitch-black surroundings. She made me take the lead, insisting it was proper since I was the wing leader. It was a little awkward, given she was taller and larger than me. I was jealous of the latter, as it was clear she’d eaten well all her life. I kept those thoughts to myself, and we stopped when exhaustion took over or the cold made my hands unbearable, at which point she’d massage them enough for me to fall asleep.
Without a doubt, I would’ve preferred my freedom those three days. Alexandra’s company, however, made the experience pleasant enough, and when Tamara walked into our cell on the third day to release us, a small part of me was sad the private bonding time I’d had with my new wingman was coming to an end.
Tamara looked us over, and once she’d sent the guard away, she addressed me. “I believe you have something to say.”
“Comrade major?” I said, caught off guard. Tamara stared at me expectantly, and it clicked a second later. “I do,” I said, straightening. “My behavior was uncalled for, comrade major, and any punishment was both fitted and warranted. I hope my actions will not adversely affect my flight status.”
I’m not sure how much I believed those words, but they rolled off my tongue enough to sound sincere. I did want to get back in the air.
“And you?” Tamara said, turning to Alexandra.
“The same, comrade major,” she said, lighter than I had. “I spoke in the heat of the moment, as Nadya had just saved my life.”
“I’m aware of that,” she said. She looked over her shoulder, I’m guessing to ensure no one was around, and then came back to the conversation with quieter tones. “I know you’re frustrated, Nadya. When I couldn’t reliably fly in combat, I was nearly robbed of my command, and it still angers me to this day.”
“I had no idea.”
She gave a half smile. “You suspected,” she said, and she was right. Everyone did. Her limp was obvious, and aside from the occasional, non-combat flight, she never took a plane up. “That said, I won’t tolerate insubordination, no matter how much we may have in common. You’re both out of second chances from now on. I will replace you and strip you of rank. Understood?”
“Yes, comrade major,” we replied in unison.
Tamara sighed and shook her head. Her posture foretold of the disappointment in her voice that came after. “I wanted to give you that kill, Nadya, just like I wanted to give one to Martyona.”
“You still can,” I said, hoping I wasn’t stepping over any lines.
“No, I can’t.” she said. Her brow lowered and she grunted. “The 586th is under terrible scrutiny. The boys think we can’t fly, and we’re a joke. Whoever gets awarded the first kill is going to be examined like no other. Every aspect of every report has to be perfect, understand? There can be no question whatsoever.”
I couldn’t doubt the sincerity in her voice, but I had a hard time wrapping my head around her words. “Surely everyone wants us to succeed,” I said. “Who would try to discredit our regiment?”
Tamara snorted. “They already have. Did you hear what happened with Liliia yesterday?”
I shook my head. Obviously being stuck in the box, Alexandra and I hadn’t heard anything. I didn’t think it wise to point that out to Tamara.
“She shot down two planes over Stalingrad,” she said. I could hear it in her voice. She was both proud and disgusted. “Two planes! A Ju-88 bomber and a Messerschmitt fighter. Can you imagine?”
“That should be a good thing, no?” Alexandra said.
Her words mirrored my thoughts. “I don’t understand why that’s an issue for us. Good for her.”
“Yes, good for her,” Tamara replied. “Liliia is now the first female pilot in the country to earn a kill. But did they credit us? Did they award those victories to her regiment?”
I knew the answer. We both did. Tamara’s passion seeped into my blood. “Who else would they give it to?”
“They awarded credit to the 437th,” Tamara said, hitching a thumb south. “Not to us. To them. To that stupid, male regiment that begged us for help.”
“Bastards,” Alexandra said. “All of them.”
I arched an eyebrow at my wingman’s remark. Her words should never have been said about top brass, but in this personal moment shared between the three of us, a large part of me was glad she did. I hoped Tamara felt the same.
“Exactly,” Tamara said. “So you understand that I have to run things tight. I can’t cut corners. I can’t award probable kills, especially for the unit’s official first.”
I nodded solemnly. The idea of me being a pilot equal to a male, dulled. “I understand. Thank you for telling me, and I’m sorry I’ve been pig headed.”
Tamara shook her head one last time and then straightened her uniform. “We can only move forward at this point,” she said. “There’s one more thing I should tell you. We’ve identified the ace you encountered with Martyona. His name is Gerhard Rademacher, and he’s part of Jagdgeschwader Udet. That unit has claimed two thousand victories now. They are not a foe to underestimate.”
“Damn,” was all I managed to get out. I appreciated having a name to attach to the plane Yellow Eight, but the total kill count of the unit was something I could have done without. Their experience against our lack thereof almost guaranteed we’d be on the wrong end of the shooting gallery whenever we met. No wonder Tamara hadn’t thought we were ready before.