Daughters of the Night Sky(33)



“That’s not for you to decide.”

“It’s for you to decide his punishment, Colonel, but I will know he has been dealt with satisfactorily, or I will take it above your head.” She relaxed her stance without invitation and took a step closer to his desk.

Krupin had the good sense to blush at Sofia’s words. He was not a fool, and he knew exactly how high her influence reached.

“I’ll give him a stern talking-to,” he said after a pause.

“That’s not sufficient. He must be disciplined proportionately with his offense. If you caught him assaulting a civilian woman, what would be done? Soloneva has every right to the same consideration.”

“Very well . . . I’ll have him transferred. They’ll have need of him at the front soon anyway.”

“That’s better. And I suggest you tell the rest of your men why the transfer is happening. If I catch another of your commanders so much as taking an unwanted second look at a woman under my command, a transfer will be the least of his worries. I’ll personally strap him to a bomb and drop his carcass from my very own aircraft over the nearest German outpost. Is that clear enough for you, Comrade?”

“Inescapably, Major.” He shook his head darkly. “You know, this entire program of yours is causing me more headaches than it can possibly be worth. Wives of my officers writing to complain about women serving alongside their husbands. Knowing what mischief they might get up to as night falls.”

“I thought you above housewives’ petty gossip, Colonel. I’m sorry to find out I was mistaken.”

We saluted and left his quarters at a brisk pace. I felt my shoulders tense and my breathing become shallow as we put distance between Krupin and ourselves, as though he might change his mind and send me back to Miass anyway, despite Sofia’s threats.

“Thank you,” I managed to say as we approached the training area. “I owe you my wings.”

“Don’t thank me. You did nothing wrong. Never forget that. If you want to thank me for your wings, then get back to your training and use them.”





CHAPTER 10


January 1942


The bleary faces of the other recruits blurred together as we stumbled back to the barracks. The training continued from before dawn to long past dark. Every night we dragged ourselves to our bunks as quickly as our feet would carry us. Every moment of sleep was precious.

“Soloneva, Pashkova. A word, please.” Sofia’s brisk footsteps echoed behind us against the concrete walls.

She’s inhuman. How can she have so much energy?

“Yes, Major?” I replied, turning to face her.

I wasn’t proud of the perverse pleasure I took in seeing the dark circles under her eyes, but they were the only sign the hours were taxing even her seemingly indefatigable reserve of energy.

“Come with me.”

She ushered us to the closet-sized room she’d commandeered as an office. Room just enough for her desk and three chairs. Tidy stacks of papers lined her desk at perfect right angles. No photographs or anything that betrayed this as a personal space.

“Ladies, I know you’re anxious to sleep, so I’ll get to it. I’ll be dividing us up into three regiments tomorrow. We’re to have a fighter regiment and two bomber regiments—one a regular bomber regiment, and the other to fly harassment missions at night.”

“I’d prefer to fly with the fighters, of course,” Taisiya interjected. “If you brought us in to ask our assignment preferences.”

“I already knew the answer to that question, Taisiya. It’s the assignment you all want. Unfortunately I don’t have the planes to make that happen for all of you. I need you two with the night bombers. Your primary mission will be to keep the Germans awake and destroy as much of their camps as you can.”

“That seems like a poor use of our training.” The fatigue was too great for me to use any sort of filter, even with Sofia. “This seems like a job for newer pilots. It won’t take much tactical finesse.”

“First, don’t assume that. Second, winning this war will have a lot less to do with tactical finesse and a lot more to do with leadership. Good pilots are much easier to come across than good leaders.”

“If this has already been decided, then why are you talking to us, if I may speak candidly? You simply could’ve posted our assignments along with everyone else’s.” Taisiya’s tone wasn’t impertinent—she was looking for the logic in the decision-making, as she always did.

“Behind closed doors, I hope you will always speak freely,” Sofia said, rubbing her bloodshot eyes and abruptly busying her hands with a pen, perhaps to avoid making the gesture again. “I wanted you to know the assignment has nothing to do with your abilities as pilots. Quite the contrary. If we staffed the night bombers with only our least experienced recruits, we would be putting them at a perilous disadvantage. They need our strongest pilots and navigators to show them how it’s done. I’m asking you to do this for me.”

“Are you giving us a command, Major?” Taisiya asked. I tried not to look boggle-eyed at the prospect. I expected to fly in combat, not to lead a regiment.

“So important is this regiment, that I’ll be forgoing my place at the head of the 586th and will command the night-bomber regiment myself, despite risking Comrade Stalin’s displeasure. I’ve asked Lieutenant Tymoshenko—Captain now—to serve as my deputy commander. She’s got a few years more experience than you have and has earned the attention of the good colonel. It took some persuasion, but she’s agreed to accept the post.”

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