Daughters of the Night Sky

Our reckless flight was the tipping point, but there were myriad misdemeanors that had driven the general to take action. The parachutes on the flares, sometimes useful, but dead inconvenient if there was a wind any stronger than a light breeze, were frequently discarded. Not being the wasteful sort, some of the girls who were handy with a needle had taken to fashioning the discarded nylon into proper ladies’ undergarments. We used our red navigators’ pencils in place of lipstick when there was none to be had. Little things to remind us of who we were. I was guiltier of these petty crimes than most—I’d been the one to turn our navigation pencils to lipstick, after all—but couldn’t feel remorse for my misdeeds.

“You misuse army property, you disobey automatic abort levels that are put in place for the safety of valuable aircraft”—I held back a snort at this… the fifteen-year-old, ramshackle planes were worth the army’s concern, but not our lives?—“you take your one holiday as an excuse to overindulge to the point that you are unfit for service. If it were up to me, I’d send you all home to your mothers this very afternoon. I’d reserve space on much-needed trains and send you as fast as I could arrange for it and get you out of my hair.” The general’s bald head under the harsh incandescent lights glowed like the moon. More than a few of us had to stifle derisive chuckles. “But it seems that Comrade Stalin cannot be persuaded of your uselessness.”

He glared in Sofia’s direction, a wordless accusation in his gaze. He blamed Sofia for Stalin’s commitment to our regiment, probably for motives that were not entirely innocent. Of course no woman could have influence over a man if there wasn’t a shared impropriety binding them. I knew Stalin’s admiration for Sofia was born solely from her accomplishments in aviation, but that wouldn’t stop the other officers from making their own—incorrect—assumptions about how Sofia had gained her influence. I felt the grinding of enamel as my molars grated against each other while he continued his tirade.

“I have court-martialed two of you this morning for the most flagrant displays of misuse of army property. Lieutenants Mateeva and Borzliova have been sentenced to ten years’ hard labor in Siberia.” I held my tongue, knowing that Chernov would not tolerate an outburst, but there were quiet titters from some without the same military training, for Svetlana and Nika were still with us, though their red eyes and dour expressions revealed their difficult morning. Chernov’s eyes narrowed, but he went on.

“But I have decided, in the greater interests of the motherland, to commute their sentences to serving in this regiment for the duration of the war, provided they perform their duties with no further incident. They will serve their sentence once we are victorious. I trust that from this moment forward they will serve as models of good behavior and military discipline for the lot of you. Let this be a warning to you girls. Further antics of this sort will not be tolerated.”

Taisiya and I had not been among those questioned earlier that morning when we were meant to be sleeping in preparation for the night’s sorties. Either Chernov considered our actions sheer stupidity, which wasn’t an offense that merited a court-martial, or Sofia had spoken for us.

Sofia came to the barracks with us and made no attempt to hide her ire. “He’s gone mad,” she muttered as we all changed into whatever we had that would pass for sleepwear. “Sentenced to hard labor for repurposing a few scraps of nylon.”

“Perhaps things are going worse than we know?” I suggested. “If he thinks the Germans have the upper hand, it seems like the sort of irrational behavior we’d see when they know we’re backed into a corner.”

“I don’t think things are any worse than they have been,” Sofia answered, her tone earnest. “He is privy to a lot more information than I am, but I haven’t seen one thing to think we’re in any more risk of being overrun than in the past six months.”

“With all due respect,” Oksana said, “the punishment was severe, but the misdemeanors needed to be addressed. If we enforce some rules, but not all, when will our crews know which lines they can cross and which we intend to respect? We have no room for error in an aviation unit. I don’t think Chernov was out of line.”

“Well said, Tymoshenko,” Sofia said, her mind clearly still back in the hangar.

“But why all the foaming at the mouth?” Taisiya asked, pacing by her bunk, arms akimbo. “It doesn’t seem rational. It’s not as if we’re performing poorly. In fact, we could hardly be more effective than we’ve been.”