Daughters of the Night Sky

Oksana gave her assent, and we deployed, pulling our chutes almost the instant we were free of Snowdrop. Neither of us had practiced jumping with parachutes in years—even in military academies, we’d rarely had the chance. It was too risky for the aircraft. I felt a cold sweat on my brow despite the frigid air. The German searchlights tracked us, and I was jolted in the air as their bullets pierced my chute, my descent accelerating with every new puncture. I gripped my parachute harness until my fingers grew numb, hoping the chute would hold. I felt exposed as a newborn babe, and just as able to defend myself. I wanted to close my eyes so I wouldn’t see the bullets that seemed destined to riddle my flesh, but I had to see the ground if I wanted to land without breaking a leg on the forest floor. Or worse.

I had little control over where I landed but tried to urge my course toward a clearing I could just make out by the light of the moon. Getting tangled at the top of a fifteen-meter pine was a complication I didn’t need. The drop was short, and despite the Germans aiding the speed of my descent, my landing on the edge of the clearing was only rough enough to twist an ankle. It would ache tomorrow, I was certain, but not so much I wouldn’t be able to walk.

But a walk wasn’t enough. We needed to run.

More of our planes were overhead, and the constant rat-a-tat of the antiaircraft guns sounded above us. I ducked as though I expected the bullets to fall on our heads like leaden raindrops. I couldn’t recognize who flew the plane that hovered over the camp, but I was mesmerized to see it from this perspective. It wasn’t fast but looked remarkably graceful as it glided over its target. The eerie silence, followed by the crash of bombs, then the thrumming of the small engine as it roared overhead was enough to unnerve the most battle-hardened pilot. The careening whistle as the plane dove before releasing the bombs was otherworldly. The nickname “Night Witches” made more sense than I cared to admit.

A thud a few meters away told me Oksana had landed much harder than I did. I discarded my harness and dashed as quickly to her side as I could manage. “We have to move. Into the trees,” I said, eyeing the swooping biplanes overhead. Our bombs were anything but precise, and we could easily get caught in a blast. The forest wasn’t particularly dense, but it should give us the benefit of cover.

Oksana struggled to her feet, looking woozy and disoriented.

“Put your arm around me,” I commanded, supporting her as we shuffled to what I hoped was the northeast, away from the German camp. It was impossible to be certain without my compass, which had been lost in the crash.

The barrage of bombs, grenades, and antiaircraft guns caused me to flinch every few steps, and it never seemed to grow quieter. Despite the dark of night, the path was illuminated by the glow of gunfire against the ankle-deep bed of snow, so I clung to the shadows as best I could, supporting Oksana through the drifts and brambles.

“Katya, I need to stop for a bit,” Oksana said through gasping breaths.

I hated to stop, imagining somehow that our movement would make us a less likely target. The reality was that whether we moved or kept still, the only thing protecting us from the bombs raining down was luck until we reached our camp. Oksana’s face was ashen when I looked over and opened my mouth to persuade her to keep moving. One glance at her gray features and I snapped my mouth shut again. She was wounded, and I had to assess how badly before we made any attempt to return to camp.

My arms trembled around Oksana as I scanned the countryside, looking for a decent place to take cover. As though I’d called it into being, there appeared what proved to be a small opening to a cave ahead to my right. It seemed relatively well secluded and, if of any depth at all, would provide protection from carelessly thrown grenades or stray bullets—even a measure of cover from the small bombs we dropped. I held no illusions about its ability to protect us from the soldiers who were probably already on patrol, looking for the crew of the downed plane, or better still, the mangled bodies that would serve as trophies. We were worth an Iron Cross to them, and we never let that fact slip far from our minds.

“In here,” I whispered needlessly as Oksana leaned on me. We stooped to enter the little opening, and I hoped none of the more vicious creatures were sheltering in our sanctuary. What an embarrassment it would be to escape the hands of the Germans only to be maimed or killed by a starving wolf.

“Thank you,” Oksana whispered through a grimace as I helped her to sit.