Daughters of the Night Sky, page 10
I fought to keep from cringing as I heard the slow metallic scrape of the scissor blades as the barber severed the locks from my head. I opened my eyes and focused on the women who looked at me. They dreaded having to follow my lead, but it was the price of service.
Snip. Snip. Scrape.
I could not look at the pool of red at my feet as the barber snipped, but I would not let my anguish travel from my heart to my eyes. Taisiya took the seat next to mine and released her hair from her pins with a curt order to the gangly young barber she’d selected to get on with his business. My eyes flitted over to her seat, where she kept her own grimace at bay. Well done, Taisiyushka. We’ll be ugly together.
The barber made short work of my mane, and I escaped the chair the moment he tapped my shoulder to signal that he’d finished with me. Sofia shot me a shallow smile, appreciative I’d been the first to fall in line. Once free of the barbers’ quarters, I sought out my bunk, glad at least that the sting of tears didn’t threaten.
I groaned as I heard Oksana’s footsteps echo through the otherwise empty barracks. Her hair was already cropped fairly short, but she had allowed the barber to shape her bob to a crisp angle that set off the severe lines in her high cheeks and long, shapely nose. Her hair wasn’t the lustrous golden blond that Sofia had been graced with, but a shade or two closer to silver or platinum. A bit more down to earth. I might have found her less intimidating than Sofia if every word from her lips, every movement she made, wasn’t calculated to keep the world at a distance.
“It will grow back,” she said, opening her duffel to recover a book.
“I’m not that worried about it,” I said, realizing it was true. I could have my length back in a few years. It wasn’t as though there would be anyone at the front lines with the time to worry about our haircuts. “I came in here because I just wanted some peace while the others got their cuts.”
The post was always a hive, so silence was a rare commodity. She reclined on her bunk with her novel, happy to oblige my need for quiet.
After perhaps a quarter of an hour, I summoned the courage to take my small hand mirror from my trunk to assess the barber’s handiwork. He was not deft with his scissors, but it wasn’t a ruthless hack job, either. The short cut threw every line and angle of my face into sharp relief, though my face would never have the chiseled quality that Oksana’s did. I did look harsh, though, the softness in my face all but gone.
I wondered if I could ever reclaim it again.
If we lamented our haircuts, the saving grace was that we weren’t given much time to fret. Sofia coordinated all the training, and we were in the classroom or in a plane for almost eighteen hours every day. As thorough as our training in our academies and flight schools had been, the intensity was now doubled. The women who’d been trained in little flight clubs were getting three years of military curriculum in a few months, and the rest of the trained recruits wouldn’t exactly be on holiday. I’d been selected for navigator training, which meant an extra hour of studying Morse code in the morning, before the pilots and crews woke.
Even Taisiya, as stoic and calm as she was, had become more withdrawn and had lost a few kilos.
“Eat,” I chided her at lunch one afternoon. “It may not be appetizing, but it’s worlds better than what we’ll have at the front.”
“I’m not hungry,” she muttered, poring over a text Sofia had specifically recommended to her, chewing the end of her pencil as she read. But to silence me she picked at the mashed potatoes and gray hunk of meat the mess sergeant had slopped onto the metal tray. It was just as well she wouldn’t abandon her text for the meal; the best way to eat military rations was quickly and while looking at the food as little as possible.
Lada, sitting several places down at the long table, shrieked. A tendril of her thick, blonde hair had fallen into her hand.
“For God’s sake, stop twirling it,” I snapped. “Cropped hair is bad enough—do you want to be bald?”
“I’m not doing it on purpose,” she protested.
“Well, you’d better learn to control yourself,” Oksana cut in. “The doctors will ground you if they think you’ve got the mange.”
She chuckled softly, and everyone stared in response, unsure how to take her uncharacteristically flippant remark.
“It was meant to be a joke,” she said, tossing her fork on her empty tray, depositing it in the washing bin, and stalking out to the airfield.
“I’ll never understand that girl,” Lada said, shaking her head.
“We don’t need to understand her; we just need to work with her,” I said, scraping up the last mouthful of tasteless potatoes so as to avoid censure from the cook. “Coming, Taisiya?”
“Mmm-ummm,” she murmured, still not looking up from her book.
“Suit yourself,” I said, following Oksana’s trajectory out of the mess hall.
I fetched my violin from the barracks and found a seat in the little makeshift recreation center that was usually empty save for the hour or two just after dinner and before we dragged our weary bodies to bed. Music seemed a better outlet for nerves than ruining my hair or straining my eyes over books I’d already memorized.
The violin cupped to my chin, familiar as an old friend, as I let the bow glide over the strings. I refused to play the laments Papa had favored. There was not room in my soul for more sadness and worry. Sweet waltzes and simple tunes took me away from the steel and concrete ugliness for a few stolen moments, rendering the endless sea of grays, browns, and dirty greens almost endurable.
“You play well, Soloneva.”
The male voice called me back to the present in the midst of a song. I stifled a sigh of disappointment as I saw an instructor, Captain Fyodorov, stride in to take a seat near mine. He lit a cigarette and reclined in his chair. He seemed generally the good sort—more amused than annoyed by our presence. I’d navigated for him on a number of runs, and he was a more-than-capable pilot, though he lacked Vanya’s grace and Taisiya’s instinctive tactical skills.
“Thank you,” I said. “I find that playing at lunchtime refreshes me for the afternoon classes.”
“They have you girls on a tough schedule, that’s for sure,” he said with a dismissive wave of the hand that gripped the cigarette. Some ash flitted over in my direction, and I had to brush the hot ember from my instrument before the finish was marked by it. Were he not a superior officer, I would have berated him for the careless gesture.
“Military school at top speed,” I agreed. “But it’s good to know who can handle it and who can’t.” I remembered the cadets at the academy—male and female—who bent under the strain of rigorous training even outside the immediate threat of war.
“The brass wanted to be sure you girls could handle combat so we don’t waste aircraft. I think the whole exercise is ridiculous,” he said, taking a long drag off his cigarette. “A few of you with military training can handle it. Most will be begging to go home in three weeks, mark my words.”
“I won’t contradict you, Captain. I can only do my part to prove you wrong.” I placed my violin and bow back in their case, snapping the latch harder than I should have done. Now that my peace was shattered, there was no sense in trying to piece it back together.
“Now, now. Don’t get in a huff,” he said. “I rather enjoy my post, if I’m telling the truth. Far from the front and all that. And you girls make for much nicer scenery than the trenches.”
I rolled my eyes and stood to leave. I might get a reprimand for disrespecting a senior officer, but I would ask for forgiveness later.
“You’re angry with me.” He stood and placed his nose even with mine. It wasn’t a question.
“You’re observant,” I said, gripping my case until I could feel the skin straining painfully over my white knuckles.
“Of course you are. You’re out of your proper element. Anyone would be out of sorts to be so out of place.”
“In fact, I am ‘out of place,’ Captain. I’m expected in class in just a few moments, and unless I want to explain why I’ve arrived with my violin in tow, I need to be on my way.” I turned to the door but felt his hand grip my elbow.
“Don’t be churlish,” he said, mirth and malice seeping from his words. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant, but I haven’t any desire to spend time in the brig for telling you what I think. Let me go.” I motioned to leave, but he refused to loosen his grip.
“You do know where a woman’s proper place is, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes. You like men, don’t you?”
“My husband in particular,” I said, yanking my elbow free.
“You know he’s probably got a flatback in every town he’s been to, right? They’re all like that. Why not have some fun yourself?”
He grabbed my arm again, this time pulling me to his chest. He gripped my hair with his other hand and forced my lips to his. His tongue invaded my mouth, probing, claiming. He moved his hand from my elbow to clutch my backside, squeezing painfully. I tried to push him back, but his bravado was matched by his bulk.
Clamping the handle of the violin case as tightly as my fingers would allow, I drew the case out wide, then drove its narrow end with all my might into the side of his head. He released me at once, staggering backward, and I stormed from the recreation center before he could retaliate.
Thankfully the barracks were empty. I would not need to face my sisters in arms or my instructors with the hot tears of anger tracing the contours of my face. Had I less respect for one of the few mementos I had of my father, I would have thrown the violin in my trunk with enough force to send it through the reinforced wood at the bottom and ten centimeters deep into the concrete. As it was, I worried the captain’s thick skull might have damaged the scroll or the fragile pegs when I sent the case crashing into it.
I sat at the edge of my bunk, put my face in my hands, and focused on quelling my rage. I had to show mastery of myself, for there was no doubt I’d be called in for what I’d done. Well, at least Mama and Vanya would have their way. I’d be sent home. But with a black mark on my record that would keep me from teaching anywhere but a tiny flight club in some far-flung eastern village.
“Lieutenant Soloneva.” Sofia’s voice pierced the silence of the empty barracks. “You’re wanted in the officers’ quarters. There seems to be some concern as to why Captain Fyodorov may be suffering from a concussion.”
I took three more steadying breaths before looking up at her in the doorway. I couldn’t appear weak—not even to her. “I was trying to get him to stop,” I said, keeping my tone even.
As her blue eyes scanned my face, I saw comprehension wash over them. What had she endured? What did she know of men like him? Can any woman like us be completely sheltered from this?
“I believe you, Katya,” she said, stepping fully into the room and taking a seat next to me. “But it’s not me you’ll have to convince.”
“They’re going to send me home, aren’t they?”
“Not if they listen to me. Fyodorov won’t fare well if I have my way.” She did an admirable job of keeping the rancor from her voice, but the anger was there.
“Will they listen?”
“It’s not their strong suit, Katya. But you have me on your side. It will count for more than nothing.”
“The fact remains that she assaulted her superior officer,” the colonel, a gangly man by the name of Krupin, growled from his seat. “Do you think we can tolerate such behavior from a junior lieutenant?”
Sofia and I stood at attention. I could tell from the tone of her voice to this point that she was rankled that she had not yet been ordered to stand at ease, much less sit, in his presence. He was two ranks above her, but such formality was rarely exercised with the other commanders.
“I would usually agree with you, but this is an unusual case, Colonel Krupin.”
“Because Junior Lieutenant Soloneva is female, I suppose?” He blew a huge cloud of gray smoke from his wheezing lungs and extinguished the butt of his cigarette in an overflowing ashtray.
“Not precisely. Because Captain Fyodorov is male and was trying to make unwanted advances on one of his students.” The muscles in my neck ached to turn and see the expression on her face, but I didn’t dare.
The old man, who greatly resembled a goat in a drab-green uniform, grumbled but said nothing.
“Don’t you agree that’s the offense we need to be addressing here, Colonel?” Sofia pressed on. “With all the dangers our soldiers face, they should not expect to be on guard against their own commanders and instructors. I needn’t tell you what these pilots will be up against. What they are sacrificing. Will you allow one of your own junior commanders to make light of their dedication, Colonel?”
His watery gaze shifted to me. “Why were you not with the rest of your regiment, Soloneva?”
“We have a short break between lunch and the afternoon tactical sessions, Colonel. I was using the time to practice the violin. It soothes me.” I felt my hands shake behind my back and hoped the rest of my body appeared still.
“You find the classes that taxing, do you?”
Sofia stepped in. “Most soldiers find intense training on five hours of sleep to be taxing, Colonel.”
“Careful, Orlova. My patience has its limits, no matter how much I like you. Soloneva, do you think it was wise for you to be alone?”
“I hadn’t thought to consider my fellow commanders a threat to my safety, Colonel. I have never been given cause to think so in my three years in a military academy or at one moment before now since I enlisted.”
“Well said, Soloneva,” Sofia said.
“And you take her word as truth, without reservation, Major?” the colonel asked.
“Unreservedly,” she replied. “I chose these recruits carefully, and I assure you I had more talented applicants than we could find planes and uniforms for, Colonel. She has a spotless record and is one of the finest navigators who applied for service.”
“Very well,” Krupin said, sitting back in his chair. “Soloneva will have no formal consequences for these unfortunate events. Though I suggest you have a good talk with her about appropriate conduct, Orlova.”
“It will be a short conversation, Colonel, as Soloneva has never shown any tendency toward inappropriate conduct. What of Fyodorov, Colonel? What will be done about him?”
“That’s of no concern to you, Orlova,” he said, lighting a fresh cigarette.
“You’re much mistaken. He took advantage of his position with a junior officer. He compromised the safety of one of my navigators. You cannot think I can allow that to go unpunished.”
“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.”
