Daughters of the Night Sky

The train deposited us near the base in Engels, and we arrived well past dark, and under blackout conditions. We walked carefully to avoid stumbling on the path that was lit only by the glow of the waxing moon. Our airfield was perched on the edge of a sprawling plain, unprotected from the howling winds that ripped through the expanse like razor blades. Fog pierced our thick woolen uniforms as though they were thin muslin frocks. From what I could see, the training grounds were bleak and industrial, like most every single structure that had been built in Chelyabinsk in the past ten years. The party had no time for grace in architecture anymore. Vibrant colors and elegant lines fell victim to efficiency and function.

Those of us with training fell in line first just behind Orlova, everyone else clamoring for a place in the rear. I had never thought I’d see the value in learning to march. The guards on duty scrambled at the sight of three hundred women approaching the gates of the air base.

“W-we were told to expect one hundred, possibly one hundred and twenty recruits, Major,” a sergeant stammered, looking out over our shivering forms as he swung open the chain-link wide enough to admit us.

“You were misinformed,” Orlova replied, tugging her woolen uniform jacket tighter about her chest against the bone-penetrating fog. “And no one was told to show us the way from the train station?”

“I’m sorry, Major. All I can tell you is that I wasn’t given the order to do it.” The young man had the good sense to look ashamed at the breach of conduct.

“Nor was anyone else. No matter now. Do the best you can for tonight, and we’ll sort things out in the morning. My recruits need sleep.”

“Very well, Major,” the sergeant said, visibly relieved to be able to pass the task of finding us proper accommodations along to someone else. “Please follow me.”

He led us to a massive gymnasium with thick concrete walls and a wooden floor that amplified sound. I could only imagine what the snores of three hundred exhausted recruits would sound like in fifteen minutes’ time. There were dozens of bunks matched up in precise rows, lining the walls and in two long rows in the middle. Gray, fraying mattresses offered next to no protection from the metal supports, and we’d have nothing but our bedrolls for linens. The room hovered somewhere just above freezing and smelled distinctly of unwashed latrine.

Welcome to the military life, ladies. Taisiya and I exchanged a quick glance, wondering who would be the first to grouse and how quickly Major Orlova would find her a place on a train heading eastward. Had they shown us this space as part of our admissions questionnaire and warned us it would be the best lodgings we could expect for the duration of the war, our responses would have given Sofia and the rest of the brass a very accurate picture of which of us were capable of service.

“Make yourselves as comfortable as you can, ladies,” Major Orlova said, likely calculating the number of needed bunks.

“So long as we aren’t on a moving train, I won’t complain,” I said, throwing my bedroll on an open spot on the floor, away from the chill that wafted off the concrete walls like frozen fog. Let the unseasoned girls have the beds.

“Your bedroom is this way, Major.” The sergeant motioned for her to follow him through the doorway that led to an adjoining hallway.

“What do you mean, Sergeant?” Orlova said, tossing her duffel on a nearby bunk.

“The commanders thought you’d appreciate your own accommodations,” he explained, blanching a little as she stood, arms akimbo, willing him into oblivion.

“This I have to see,” she announced, walking toward the hallway, the sergeant scrambling to match her pace.

In little more than a minute she returned, the sergeant noticeably absent.

“Absolutely incredible,” Orlova growled, rolling out her bedroll on the rank mattress. “A private room with a rug? Flowers? What am I doing here—training pilots, or debutantes?”

“I’ll be happy to cede my place on the floor if you really want to show them how angry you are,” I called from my nest, the unyielding cement beneath me causing my hips to ache.

“It’s a good thing I like you, Soloneva.” Orlova crawled into her bed with an audible grunt. Chuckles bounced off the walls as the major’s disdain dissipated.

I rolled to my side, the floor cruelly reminding me of its presence with every movement. I tugged my bedroll tighter, though I knew it wasn’t equal to the cold that enveloped the room. Taisiya’s breathing had already given in to soft snores as she lay curled up on the patch of floor next to mine, and again I envied her gift of falling asleep almost instantly.

I listened to the breathing go shallow all around me. Was Vanya any more comfortable than I was? Was he reasonably warm? Well fed? Unlikely.

I thought of Mama in her cabin. Comfortable and warm most of the time, no real want of food—but isolated. Unprotected.