“Enemy formation, eleven o’clock low,” Alexandra said. “Damn that’s a lot of them.”
It took me a moment to find them. My eyes kept tearing and losing focus. Only after I cleared them twice did I see the speck of dots off in the distance. I gasped, hypnotized by their numbers. We were headed for a swarm, and I hadn’t a clue what we were going to do about it.
“Orders?” Alexandra asked.
I didn’t know. My mind was a blank. All I could do was stare with a cotton mouth as we raced toward them. How many were there? Eight He-111s? It looked like five were in front in a V-formation with three more in the rear formed in a similar fashion. Each of those bombers was bristling with machine guns I knew were eager to tear into any fighter that dared near them. They had at least that many escorts surrounding them. We were higher, and thus could keep our speed up when we dove to attack. We’d also have the sun at our backs, and they hopefully wouldn’t see us coming. But was all that enough? God, this was suicide.
“Nadya! What do we do?”
“Where I go, you go.”
It was the only thing I could think to reply. I pulled the plane higher, rolled, and made an inverted loop. I picked out the He-111 on the far right of the lead formation and dove toward it. It looked to be the easiest shot. My vision tunneled as I focused on my target through the gun sight. I could feel the plane increase speed. I lifted in my seat, and even the smallest twitch of the controls bounced my aim.
Tracers flew by my cockpit from all directions, but I stayed the course. I mashed both triggers until I flew under my target, missing it by a few dozen meters. I pulled back on the stick and was slammed into the seat. My vision darkened as the G’s sent my blood rushing to my feet. Even in near blackout conditions and my arms feeling as if they were wrapped in lead, I held back on the stick until I guessed I was climbing away at a good angle. When I relaxed, the G’s eased. My vision returned, and I blew out all the air I was holding.
“Still with me, Alexandra?”
“Right behind you,” she replied. “We chewed that first one up, but he’s still flying.”
“We clear?”
“For the moment. They’re probably worried there are more of us.”
“I’m sure. Who in their right mind would send two against twenty?” I banked left and brought us around again. Pride swelled in my chest as I picked out the bomber we had attacked in the formation. Three trails of mist streaked behind it, two white and one brown. We must have hit some coolant and one of the fuel tanks. After watching him a few seconds, it was clear he was staying with the group and wasn’t going to break for home. Damn it to hell, I thought. Whatever they’re going to bomb has to be important.
“Little Boar, this is Badger. We think they’re targeting the Red October factory. We’ve got a lot of troops there, and they’ve been trying to take it for a week now. Do not let them hit it.”
I set my jaw. Those were the only words I needed to hear. I could make a difference. I would make a difference. I would bring honor to the Cossack name, remind all how fierce we were in combat, and that fierceness was not because we fought for Stalin and his filth or that we sought some barbaric glory, but because we fought for ourselves and for the Divine.
Into the lion’s den we went once more. Machinegun and cannon fire tried to tear us apart from all angles. After that second pass, I pulled around to make a third and kept my speed high to deny the enemy any chance at following me. I had a few scattered holes in my wings at this point, but as best I could tell, my fighter still flew without trouble.
I leaned forward and squinted, trying to pick out the bomber I’d hammered. I couldn’t find it. The formation looked different than I’d remembered it—messier. No matter. I chose another bomber, rolled left and countered with right rudder to line up my shot. I blew past the fascist, ripping into the bomber with all of my guns.
“Did he go down?” I said, leveling off and extending away from the fight. I craned my head to both sides, but couldn’t get a good visual. “He should be in pieces.”
I found the He-111 a moment later. Fire poured from its wing as it fell from the sky. I watched it burn all the way to the ground. This marked my third aerial victory, but I wasn’t excited for it, not even when I realized I was now over halfway to ace. The world would see me as an even more skilled pilot than before, but my soul said that wasn’t going to make me proud of myself. I needed something that this war would never provide, and I still didn’t know what that was.
“Nadya, I’m in trouble.”
Her panic ripped through my heart. I whipped my plane on edge and looked out the top of my canopy, desperate to find her. The bombers, still a good minute from their target, had broken off the attack. Some trailed far behind the main body, while others were turning around and making a run for home. Far below I saw Alexandra’s plane with a Messerschmitt 109 on her tail.
“I’m coming, hang in there,” I said, diving to her aid.
Alexandra weaved left and right dodging constant fire from her adversary. There was a bright flash on her left wing, and a section came off. Her rolls slowed. “I lost an aileron,” she said. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
“Almost there,” I said. With my plane still in a dive, I rapidly closed the distance. My exhaustion faded under a surge of adrenaline. I felt in control of my plane and myself, but Alexandra’s constant maneuvers were throwing my aim off as much as her enemy’s. “Alexandra, level off. I need the shot.”
“Can you make it?”
“Absolutely,” I promised, hoping it wasn’t a lie.
“Waltzing,” she said. “I’ll straighten on the third.”
The tremor in her voice drilled home how crucial the next few seconds would be. I chopped the throttle to maximize my firing time, and studied the rhythm of her moves. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.
She straightened out, and so did the German. I fired.
The Messer’s engine exploded, and flames poured out of its nose. My heart sang like the heavenly host ushering in the Second Coming. I didn’t stop shooting. My cannon pumped shell after shell into the 109. The German’s canopy broke away, and I saw the pilot jump. He flew by my plane, narrowly missing my wing. For a frozen moment in time, I got a look at him. He looked around my age and every bit as terrified as I’d pictured Alexandra to be. It was then I realized we were skimming the ground, less than a hundred meters in the air. His chute would never open in time.
“He’s… dead. You’re clear.” I told her. Though I saved her life, my words sickened my soul. I’d seen pilots bail before, but this was the first time I saw the face of a dead man—a man I’d sent to the grave.
Alexandra kept up her evasive maneuvers as she replied. “Are you sure?”
“Very.” I scanned the sky. No other Luftwaffe had followed us. The chaos we’d sowed paid off in our favor. “Pull up. Let’s get clear of ground fire.”
Alexandra gained altitude and leveled. “Next time I go where you go, let’s find someplace nicer.”
Movement grabbed my eye, and I turned to see another 109 diving down on us. Cannon fire spewed from its nose with vengeful fury and slammed into Alexandra’s plane. The Messer was gone as quickly as it had come, but before it flew off, I caught sight of the bright yellow eight painted on its tail.
My jaw dropped. Alexandra’s battered and leaking plane limped through the sky as if any moment it would disintegrate. I tried to ask her if she was okay, but fear at the answer kept the question in my mouth.