The three other girls left after a short goodbye, which left me standing there, confused and worried as to why I’d been held back. “Is something wrong, comrade major?”
“I hope not, Nadya,” she replied. Her eyes held mine, and my soul shivered as if she could scrutinize its deepest secrets. “You’d tell me if there was, wouldn’t you?”
“Always.”
“Then what happened with your landing?”
I cursed in my head. Of course she knew. Everyone had to know by now as near wrecks fueled gossip like oil in a bonfire. “As I said in my report, the plane was running hot and I was afraid the engine would seize,” I said. “I came in faster and more worried than I should have. A crosswind caught me by surprise.”
“And you want me to believe battle damage was responsible for your takeoff as well?”
“No, comrade major,” I replied. “That was one hundred percent my fault. I spooked myself at launch. Never been fond of flying at night.”
Tamara sighed and shook her head. “That’s not a whole lot better than what I’m worried about. If the dark scares you, that doesn’t bode well for your future as a pilot.”
“It won’t happen again, comrade major,” I replied.
“How’s your hand? You’ve had it tucked across your stomach since you came in.”
Damn. I thought it, but I didn’t say it. I don’t think I showed it either. I held it up and flexed it twice for her to see. “Still works,” I said. “It hurts now and again. I wouldn’t lie about that. But I can fly. I assure you. After all, I did light up that bomber.”
Tamara’s face softened, and for the first time in this conversation, I managed to relax—right up until she spoke again. “I appreciate your honesty, Nadya,” she said. “But all the same, with winter coming, I’m going to have to periodically evaluate your abilities. I don’t want the cold costing the regiment a plane and you your life.”
Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.
“Yes, comrade major,” I said with a rock-hard face. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“Very good, Nadya. You’re dismissed.”
Damn. Damn. Damn.
I nodded, went outside, and threw up.
The next morning the regiment celebrated Valeriia’s kill with vodka and watermelons. Alexandra enjoyed both, though she said she would’ve preferred wine, which wasn’t something we had lying around. I stuck to eating the treats, however, as the alcohol didn’t sit well with me.
Four days later, we were in the second week of fall, and the temperature during the night was close to freezing. I slept layered under blankets in my dugout, although a few times after the sunset I had to venture out on duties. Thankfully, they were of the logistic and briefing kind, and I hadn’t been pulled for another midnight watch. But I knew I would eventually, and I prayed I’d be able to do my duties when the time came.
On the morning of 30 September, I sat on my bed while Alexandra massaged my right wrist and forearm as she’d done for the last week. I don’t know if it gave any long-term benefits, but her help eased the pain for at least a few hours. As she worked on my burns, Zhenia sat nearby, studying the most recent reconnaissance maps and frequently pushing Bri off her lap.
“You should see the doctor about this,” Alexandra said, eyes focused on her work. “Every day you wince more.”
I grunted and scowled. “I saw him already. Besides, I’d rather swallow hot coals.”
“I don’t like him either, but you should try again. Maybe he’s got something new. Or I could write my father. Maybe he would know something that could help.”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
Alexandra stopped and looked at me with concern. “You’re not flying as well as you used to.”
My stomach turned. I knew I hadn’t been at the top of my game, but I had no idea it was so obvious to others. And if it was obvious to my fellow pilots, it was obvious to Tamara as well. Still, I dared to hope otherwise.
“Have I?” I said, feigning surprise and giving an awkward chuckle. “I didn’t think I was that bad.”
“I’ve seen first-time students wobble less,” Zhenia chimed in. “And yesterday you couldn’t stick on Alexandra’s tail to save your life. You used to be able to outfly her in your sleep.”
“Maybe I’m getting better,” Alexandra said, sticking out her tongue.
“You are,” Zhenia replied. “At the same time, she’s getting worse. Luftwaffe won’t cut us any slack.”
Zhenia didn’t look up from her maps for any of the exchange, and so I couldn’t get a read on her face. That heightened my paranoia. “If I don’t bounce back soon, I’ll see him,” I said, hoping to placate them both. “The massages are helping.”
I had no intentions of seeing the man. Thinking back to the day he suggested to give me morphine in exchange for… favors… still made me shudder. I continued hating him for ever trying such a thing, but I hated myself even more for keeping the offer tucked away as a last-ditch resort to retain my flight status. I’d do anything to stay a pilot, to redeem myself, to bring down Gerhard Rademacher, and I prayed I wouldn’t be forced to go through such humiliating lengths to do so.
“You okay?” Alexandra said.
“Quite,” I lied. “I was trying to remember when Valeriia was coming back.”
“From Moscow? In five more days, I think,” Zhenia replied. “She’ll probably sleep another three once she returns. I imagine they’re wearing her out parading her around as the next war hero, not to mention showing off her Order of the Red Banner. But I agree with Alexandra. You should get looked at.”
“Fine. If it’ll get the two of you off my back, I will. Any news from the front?” The first part was another lie, and the second was bait I hoped Zhenia would take so the subject would be dropped. To my relief, she did.
“We struck against the Romanians a few days ago. They’re keeping the flanks of the German assault on Stalingrad secure, but I think they’re the weak points.” She paused for a second to push Bri away for the umpteenth time. “The new Yak-9s and La-5s are also coming in.”
I perked, scooting to the edge of the bed. “Better fighters? Dare I hope we get them?”
Zhenia’s face twisted with irritation. “Don’t even dare to dream. The boys will be playing with them long before we do. Be glad you’re in a Yak and not the Kukuruzniks the girls in the 588th are stuck with. The top speed on those biplanes is slower than your stall point.”
From then on all talk of my wounds and the need to see the doctor vanished. Instead, we chatted about mundane things. Once Alexandra was done on my arm, I excused myself, saying I had some things I wanted to look at with my aircraft. What I said was true, to a degree, but I didn’t mind that neither wanted details nor offered to come with me. What I was actually doing was going to try and fix things with Klara, and I didn’t want an audience for when I ate humble pie.
I found Klara by my plane. She had the cowl off and was working on the engine. I know she saw me coming, but she kept her attention on her task at hand and didn’t acknowledge I was there until I spoke. “Do you have a minute?”
“I’m trying to get your plane serviced for tomorrow, comrade pilot,” she said. She threw me a passing glance as she traded a wrench for a screwdriver and sighed. “What?”
“I thought we could talk.”
“About?”
“The nose art you painted.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first. You made your point, and I’m okay with it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”
“Yes.”
She painted over the hurt I’d caused with a mask of indifference, and I knew she’d said such things because she had no other option. As I was an officer, she couldn’t let me have it for ruining her gift.