Once down, I taxied to my plane’s parking spot. Klara directed me into place with slouched shoulders and a blank stare. The spot was roomier than last I saw it. The space next to it, Alexandra’s, was empty, and the sight of it hit me in the gut like a cannon.
I killed the engine and slid back the canopy. Even on the ground, frozen air stung my face, and I loathed to get out and face the regiment. I slumped forward and whispered, “God help me.”
An arm snaked across my back, and Klara’s cheek pressed into mine. “I’ll help you.”
I sank into that touch of warmth, something my soul craved. I grabbed and squeezed her tight, dying for a bit of goodness to cling to. I pulled her into the cockpit, and she looked up at me, laughing first, then horrified she’d done so.
“Sorry,” I said, not moving one bit to help her out of her awkward position. It was a good thing she was small. We barely fit in the cockpit together. “I’m a mess.”
“I know,” she said. “I’ve been worried about you since Gridnev told us about Alexandra. I almost thought you wouldn’t come back on your own.”
“What else did he say?”
“He said the two of you fought bravely and saved many lives, and that she’s left a hole in his heart that will never fill.”
His words were kind, but deep down, I wish he hadn’t said them, at least, not yet. “So he gave her service already,” I said, angry at him that he’d done so already and at myself for being so petty. “I would have liked to have been there.”
“He said a few words. Maybe there will be more later.”
“No. That’s all she’ll get. That’s all anyone gets.”
My eyes dried out and stared at nothing in particular for a few moments before Klara reached up and brushed back my hair. She pulled her hand back and said, “You should let me up. I might kiss you and everyone will see.”
“I might let you.”
That was all the encouragement she needed, and I fell into the intimacy of her intoxicating embrace and cast aside the world.
We parted, and Klara gently wiped her mouth. “People will start paying attention soon if we don’t go.”
“I don’t care anymore,” I said. My words drew a puzzled smile from her. “What’s the point in hiding anything if we can already die at any moment? That’s not living. That’s waiting for Death.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she said, looking frightened and hopeful. “But if it’s the same to you, I don’t want my neck stretched.”
I ran my fingers through her hair and gave her a playful tug. “I could think of something to do with it, later. But right now, my legs are falling asleep.”
I helped her out of the cockpit before getting out of the plane and sliding off the wing. I wouldn’t call my movements lively, but they were several steps away from the grave mood I’d been in. Perhaps I’d survive Alexandra’s loss after all. That said, I still wanted things to be over. The flights. The war. The killing.
Klara looked down at the wrench she was carrying and toyed with it as we walked. Something was on her mind, but I could tell what she said next wasn’t what she was thinking about. “Gridnev said he wants to see you as soon as you land—for the official after-action report.”
“I know,” I said. “They told me on the radio before I landed.”
“Also, the Commissar was poking around your dugout while you were away.”
My blood turned to ice. “Why?”
Klara shrugged. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I imagine he was looking for anything he could use against you.”
I almost didn’t ask. I was afraid she’d think I was using again, even though I wasn’t. But I was really terrified that he’d found the syrette I’d tossed in the oil drum. “What did he find?”
A hint of confusion flickered in her eyes. “Nothing I’m aware of. Why? Could he have?”
I exhaled. “I’m tired and paranoid he’d plant something, I guess.”
Klara chuckled. “I know he doesn’t like you, but I don’t think he’d stoop to that.”
“I hope not, but I need to report in. I’ll talk to you later,” I said, before starting for the command post.
A few paces into my walk, she called out to me. “I never hated her.”
“What?”
“Alexandra,” she said. “I never did, but I know you think so.”
My thoughts split into a hundred different directions. Could I talk about this? Did I want to? How could she ever say otherwise? “You never treated her well.” As much as I loved Klara, saying anything else felt like it would betray my wingman. “You two were practically at each other’s throats.”
“I might have been jealous of all the time you two spent together,” she said.
“Might?”
“I was. I was,” she said. Her voice picked up tempo and fluttered in pitch as if she barely had control. “But that was before I had you, before we—” She stopped and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. All I want you to know is in the end, I was thankful you had her.”
I couldn’t help but snort. Some of Third Squadron’s ground crew were walking the airfield nearby, and I worried they were about to see me lose my mind. “I’m sorry. This is a little much for me at the moment.”
“You don’t have to believe me. I wouldn’t,” she said, “but it’s true. As much as I wished I had as much time with you as she did, she always looked out for you. She always brought you home safe. And that’s all I ever wished for.”
The newly formed lump in my throat made my reply near impossible. “She died for that wish, and all I could do was sing for her before she was gone.” I sucked in a breath and steeled myself. “I’m going to report in.”
Klara let me go, though I could tell by her pained expression she didn’t want me to leave. The couple of hundred meters to the command post seemed as if it stretched out to a full kilometer. The noise of Anisovka muted in my ears and the bustle was reduced to blurred movements in the corners of my vision. My mind was shutting down in anticipation of having to relive the day before in agonizing detail.
Gridnev was waiting for me outside, his leather flight jacket zipped up and goggles around his neck. “Come in, Nadya,” he said, holding the door open for me. “This will only take a moment. I’m taking some of the boys from Third Squadron up for some training.”
I nodded. My muscles relaxed as I stepped through the threshold and thanked God for the small favor. “I’ll try to write it up quickly so you can sign and be on your way, comrade major.”
I sat down at the chair by his desk and looked at the map on the wall. Battle lines around Stalingrad were scribbled all across it. The German army had a firm foothold there, that much was clear, and the Romanian armies looked to be dug in and protecting the flanks. The war looked as it always had on first glance, but as Gridnev rifled through some papers and I studied it more, I noticed a buildup of Soviet forces to the south and northwest of the city.
“Is something going on, comrade major?” I asked, eyes fixated.
“With Stalingrad? Always.” he said. He flopped a couple of pages onto the desk and pushed them my way. “I put this together based on what you told others at Rakhinka. Read, sign at the bottom. You’re on light duty for today, but you’re flying tomorrow. I know Alexandra was close to you, but I need everyone, every day, from here on out.”
I barely heard the last two sentences. I was too busy reading what he’d put in my lap. It was the after-action report I was supposed to give. Normally, I’d give an oral report, type it up after answering any questions he might have, and then we’d both sign it together. Instead, this report had already been signed—and prepared, I assumed—by him. The contents were straightforward, accurate for the most part as to what happened on the escort. It said I earned two kills, but also claimed Alexandra had shot down two 109s and an He-111 before running out of ammunition and being forced to return to Rakhinka. And she had done all of that after being wounded.