Daughters of the Night Sky

“I’m well aware. And you two have no such deficiency. I expect you to help her where you can. I’ve made her aware of my expectations on that front, so don’t feel like you can’t approach her—in private—to make suggestions. But two officers aren’t enough to lead a regiment. We’ll need you.”

“Much appreciated,” Taisiya said. “Though if we’re not to have places with the fighter regiment, I have a request.”

“Name it, but I can’t make promises.”

“Of course. I want Katya as my navigator—with her assent, of course.” Taisiya didn’t look directly at me. By making this request, she was denying me a plane of my own. I was a trained navigator, but with far more experience than many of the other recruits, I thought I stood a chance at the assignment. I gritted my teeth but didn’t contradict her. Sofia looked to me, and I gave a curt nod. Taisiya had her reasons, and I wouldn’t call her out in front of a superior officer.

“Those decisions are yet to be made,” Sofia said, “but I have noted your request and will do my best to honor it.”

“If I might risk impertinence,” I said, “wouldn’t you rather be with the fighter pilots, since the choice is yours? And the preference of Comrade Stalin, too?” The question was audacious, but the words burned on my tongue.

“The first rule of military leadership, Katya, is to go where I will do the most good without reference to my own preferences. And to trust my own instincts above those of others who do not know my division as well as I. It’s a lesson you’ll learn in time.”

Sofia dismissed us to the barracks, but I pulled Taisiya aside into a vacant corridor.

“Do you think it might have been prudent—or at least kind—to ask me what assignment I might have liked before putting me on the spot?”

“The opportunity was there,” Taisiya reasoned. “We had the best position for bargaining.”

“All the same, it wasn’t your right to ask.”

“Sofia would assign you as a navigator anyway if she has brains at all—which she clearly does. But she might use your expertise as a reason to place you with a less experienced pilot, and I don’t want you with someone who might choke under pressure. You’re not the only one who made a promise to Vanya before we left.”

At the mention of my husband’s name, I felt my heart make an uncomfortable thunk against my ribs. “What did he tell you?” I whispered.

“He asked me, given any opportunity, to do anything in my power to keep you safe. That’s what I just did.”

“Ladies, welcome to the 588th Regiment,” Sofia said, pacing before us as we stood in assembly. “Over the next few months, we will be honing our skills in order to join the others at the front. The most important task we have is to learn how to fly as a team. These, for the duration of the war, will be our aircraft.”

Sofia gestured to a long row of small biplanes, rudimentary machines at best, that looked as aerodynamic as writing desks. They had wooden frames with a few aluminum braces, covered with taut linen, each painted a drab green to match our uniforms. The only ornamentation was a crest with the requisite red star to show our allegiance to Mother Russia. They resembled massive children’s toys rather than proper military aircraft and looked just as durable. They would ignite like candles with the slightest flame and didn’t look as though they could survive too many bullet holes before they fell from the sky. The engines looked as sophisticated as sewing machines.

It was going to be like battling German panzers while driving my mother’s truck.

“It looks like my father’s crop duster,” Lada muttered. “This is just for our training exercises, Major, am I right?”

“If it looks like your father’s crop duster, that’s because it’s no more sophisticated. The Polikarpov U-2 is easy to fly, maneuverable, and will allow us to fly lower and slower than the enemy aircraft, which is ideal for the needs of this regiment. They’re quick to repair. Most of you learned how to fly on this plane or one much like it, so you’ll be able to fly them as naturally as breathing. This will be our regiment’s greatest asset.”

I had a decent view into the cockpit and noticed one startling omission.

“Where are the radios, Major?” I asked.

“There are none,” Sofia answered, blanching slightly.

“Surely they will get us equipped before we move to the front?” Taisiya interjected. Everything was in low supply, but certainly a few dozen radios could be found.

“I don’t expect so,” Sofia replied. “You’ll at least have your interphones.”

I glanced back into the cockpit. The interphone was about as useful as two tin cans and a string, but it was something. We’d be able to talk to one another, but there would be no communication with our ground crews.