Natalya Page 6

  I hope this letter finds you well and cared for wherever you are. So much has happened since I left Russia, yet as each day passes, it gets harder being away. I worry about you, Talya. Even my visions, which I’ve loathed and ignored my entire life, have given me no respite. My babushka would be so happy I’m using what she considered a gift. It has saved my life and the lives of others on several occasions now, but it’s the visions of you worrying me the most.

  The first one happened when I was in Switzerland, and they have been steadily happening ever since. In them, I see you in your plane. You are so focused as you maneuver your plane through a wall of enemy fire and eighty-eights. Watch out for the FlaK fire. In the vision, you are hit by an anti-aircraft volley, two of the shells piercing the plane. Talya...you crash, but I can’t see anything afterward. I don’t know how you fare, and this terrifies me.

  Please take care and don’t do anything too risky. I know just flying your nightly sorties with your squadron is risk enough, but I don’t know what I would do if something were to happen to you. I now find myself returning to Russia—Stalingrad—as quickly as I can, which as you know, isn’t quick at all. Just knowing I am close, if you should need me, is almost comforting. Almost.

  Please know you hold my heart in your hands, liybimaya.

  Yours always, Misha

  One small tear trickled down her cheek as Natalya held the letter against her chest. Just knowing Mikhail allowed himself to have visions was enough to tell her how serious this was. His warning would not fall on deaf ears. Yes, she was reckless at times, especially in the air, as she and the two other planes in her small squad dropped their nightly bombs on the Germans. But when it came to leading her fellow Night Witches back to the base at Engels, nothing was more important.

  The five women in her group were her friends. They had trained together and lived together for months before the Russian army allowed them in the air. These women were her comrades, and they were as close as sisters. Of course, her own navigator was her blood sister, and she would let nothing bad happen to her. She would protect and defend Lilyann with her life, if necessary.

  Sirens sounded through the overhead speakers, pulling her from her thoughts. Quickly folding the letter, she pushed it into the envelope and stuffed it in her shirt pocket as she jumped off her bed and grabbed her oversized heavy winter coat. As she’d done a thousand times since the war began, she buttoned her coat and shoved the fur-lined leather cap over her blonde curls, pushing them under the cap as she had a thousand times before. Grabbing her heavy leather gloves, she pulled them on and hurried out to her plane.

  The other women in her group were already there as the mechanics finished prepping the small canvas biplanes for the upcoming battle. Natalya joined them as they huddled together for warmth against the cold wind as it rushed and eddied around them. Silently, she met each woman’s stoic gaze. Red-headed Raisa was less than a year her junior at twenty-three and could be untamed behind the controls. Her navigator, Tatyana, was a brown-haired, twenty-two-year-old who seemed to calm her partner, although how, nobody knew. Natalya’s sister, Lilyann, and the other two women, Aleksandra and Irina, were all twenty-one and as different as night and day. Irina had curly black hair and tended to have a negative outlook—always doom and gloom, while Aleksandra had porcelain skin and beautiful long black hair. She exuded calmness, reminiscent of her Japanese heritage.

  With the current tensions between Russia and Japan, Natalya had been surprised someone with Aleksandra’s heritage was accepted into the Red Army, but she was a talented pilot, and her family had integrated well after living in the small coastal village that had changed from Russian control to Japanese then back to Russian. Other than their distinctive Japanese features, they were a Russian family.

  All five women now stared at Natalya with wizened gazes—eyes that have seen too much death. With a wide sweep of her arms, she motioned for them to move in closer. Huddled together with their arms wrapped around each other’s necks, they listened while Irina’s soft voice prayed the same prayer that began every night’s sorties. When the prayer ended, Natalya raised her head and pasted what she hoped was a determined expression on her face.

  “Now, we fly. Be strong and be safe.” Turning, she headed for her plane and climbed up on the wing and into the pilot’s seat. Pulling down her goggles, she adjusted them on her face to make sure the outside flaps lay flush against her skin, preventing fog from distorting her night vision as she flew.

  She heard her sister behind her as she sat in her small navigator’s seat. It didn’t take long before it was their turn to take off, following the long line of biplanes as they ascended and disappeared into the heavy cloud cover over Engels. Listening to the gravely small engine, a sense of calm stole through her. The air at this height was much colder than on the ground and already her face felt frozen. Once they got into the rhythm of their bombing maneuvers, for her at least, the cold disappeared, and she was transported into another world. In the air, she was free and felt at home.

  Mikhail’s warning stole through her mind, but she wasn’t worried. Her three-plane squad was one of the best and currently had the top record for aerial combat kills to date. Tonight would be no different from any other night.

  Lilyann hollered out their coordinates, and Natalya adjusted, heading in the direction of the German army. The other two planes dogged her flanks. On their first run, their plane would be one of the decoys, luring both the search lights and the German anti-aircraft fire away from Raisa and Tatyana’s plane. After they killed their engine, they would fly low to the ground in order to drop their bombs.

  Running through the sequence in her head, she pictured the third plane’s nose rising as the engine sputtered to life again, carrying the plane and her friends to safety. Hearing her sister call out again, Natalya adjusted their flight path in order to fly over the German unit. An ominous growl of another plane cut into her thoughts.

  “Natalya!” her sister screamed. “Bank to the left—a Messerschmitt is on our tail!”

  5

  Outskirts of Lwów, Poland

  Mikhail shook the hand of his Resistance contact and friend, Bernard Marchand. He trusted the Frenchman with his life since he had helped him escape from the French camp where his family was still imprisoned. He had also introduced him to the Resistance and had been instrumental in Mikhail’s training.

  “It is good to see you again, my friend,” Bernard said as he greeted him in the usual French fashion, kissing each cheek. Dropping his hand, Bernard stepped away, his glance moving behind Mikhail. He raised his blond brows. “And what have we here? Your crew is unusually young, don’t you think?”

  Mikhail chuckled. “Usually, I would say yes, but I think these kids would put our skills to the test. They’ve been hiding out in underground caches and sewers since the Germans took over Lwów.”

  Bernard nodded approvingly. “Have they now? I am, indeed, impressed. Where are you taking them?”

  “That’s what I was hoping you’d help me out with. I need you to take them to the nearest Resistance camp. They’ll be safe there, and they’ll be able to move with the others if they have to leave in a hurry.”

  “C’est pas possible, mon amie.”

  Mikhail frowned and heard Julek’s tired voice ask his sister what Bernard said. Realizing his friend didn’t want the children to know what they were discussing, he, too, switched to French. “What do you mean it isn’t possible? I can’t take them with me—I’m on my way to Stalingrad. War there is imminent. I received word Hitler has sent the Sixth Army south and is trying for the oil refineries in the Caucasus Mountains. My mission is imperative, Bernard. I have intel from Lucy for General Zhukov—the blueprints of their battle plans. I must get them to the general.”

  “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but the war has already begun at Stalingrad. As we speak, the Wehrmacht is primed to breach the town’s defenses. For a while, your Russians were able to hold them back north of the city, but the cost was great. My Russian contact told me, at last count, the Red Army lost more than two hundred thousand men just in those first defensive attacks. The Luftwaffe is laying siege to the city under constant Stuka barrage and has stopped all shipping along the Volga River, rendering it virtually impassable. Stalingrad and its citizens, whom Stalin refused to remove, are effectively trapped.”

  Mikhail bit back the horrible things he wanted to scream and rant, but only because he knew all the children were staring at him. Breathing deep, he pulled in the night air and smelled the slightly acrid odor of gunpowder and death on the breeze. “How close is the war here? I thought the Germans had pushed the Red Army back into Russia.”

  “They have—for the most part. About a mile from here, we were able to sabotage a few German tanks. If you look to the northwest, you will notice a pretty orange glow in the night sky. My men have managed to take down only a few of the Panzers, but it’s a few who won’t be fighting again.”

  Clearing his throat, Mikhail let out a loud sigh and gave Bernard a nod. “This war seems never-ending, but it is what it is. If I can get these operation plans to General Zhukov, we may be able to turn the tide of war and stop the Germans before they destroy the entire region. I’ll be damned if I don’t attempt to do everything I can to stop them from taking over my homeland.”

  “We’ll all be damned then, mon amie. This war may be the death of us all, but one way or another, we will unite and stop Hitler from building his Third Reich.” Bernard glanced at the children standing behind Mikhail. “And them? What are you going to do with children in tow? You will be captured.”

  Mikhail thought back to the early days when Bernard had begun showing him the inner workings of the Resistance movement. He quickly realized it wasn’t as simple as breaking someone out of a prison or meeting up and exchanging information. There had been a lot of cloak-and-dagger stuff he’d had to learn. An isolated childhood taught him to blend in, watching others and keeping to himself—never talking to other people—but the war required even more stealth.

  He’d caught on to the espionage work quickly, and it hadn’t taken long before those in higher positions noticed and pushed him up the ranks. They asked him to go into the most dangerous situations because they knew, somehow, he would get the job done. He glanced at the children behind him. They stood close to him in a semicircle, as if protecting his back. He smiled.

  “It is why I’m asking for a favor. I need you to take them, Bernard. The Germans captured their families and took them to the Janowska camp. More than likely, if the adults weren’t up to Nazi standards, they were shipped on to Belzec. You know as well as I, no one returns from the death camps.”

  Bernard’s heavy gaze held his for a moment before moving off. For the longest minute, he stared into the thick trees surrounding them. The slight flaring of the man’s autocratic nose and thinning of his lips told Mikhail a decision had been made.

  “There is a small cave we’ve been using deep in the forest. I will take the children there, at least for the time being. It isn’t far from here, so we can head there now. Everyone can eat, and you can rest while we plan.”

  Mikhail reached over and laid his hand over his friend’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. “Thank you, my friend. I could not, in good conscience, have the young ones endure the trek I’m about to take. Stalingrad is still many hours from here, and I will be traveling not only through rough terrain but also through enemy lines.”

  Their walk to the cave was, indeed, only a short distance. Fifteen minutes later, the children were huddled around a small fire, eating leftover stew. Mikhail watched Adela and Julek whispering to each other, their expressions so serious, he couldn’t help but wonder what they discussed. Adela nodded at something Julek said then both resumed their dinner.

  Bernard spread out a map of the area between them and pointed to a red dot. “The red markers are locations of caves and hidden caches we use, either for hiding in or storing supplies. The green markers are the known locations of nearby German units.” His finger moved to another red dot then traced along a dotted line toward what had been the Polish-Ukrainian border but was now part of the Soviet Union. “What you ask is not easy. Germans control most of the area between here and Stalingrad. We have a few pockets of resistance who continually fight. The thousand-mile front is all but impossible for so few of us to fight against, but we do what we do best. We cause the Nazis as many problems as we can.”

  Bernard thought a moment. “We have managed to link up a few cities, but the travel is dangerous. I feel I should warn you—the Germans took Moscow. The Russians held out as long as they could, but the Wehrmacht is a force to be reckoned with. Once we get you into Russia, make for Odessa. There is a vast expanse of tunnels under the city—three levels deep. These will get you through the German fortifications. From there, you are on your own, I’m afraid. It will not be an easy journey, Mikhail.”

  Mikhail bit back his groan of despair. Moscow was one of his favorite cities. The gleam off the onion-shaped turrets climbing up to the sky above St. Basil’s was a sight to behold, and the thought of never seeing it again filled him with sadness. “How will I get from here to Odessa?”

  “For that, you are in luck—at least for most of the way. There is a German convoy we already planned on hitting, and I know of two more groups farther east who are planning similar hits. You will get there in stages, but it’s the best we can do with the Germans controlling the railroad and buses.” He glanced at his watch and snapped his fingers. A young boy jogged over from a group of men sitting close by. “It is almost time, Fryderyk. Pack up what’s needed and tell the men to change into their uniforms.”

  Mikhail’s brow rose. “Uniforms? Since when do we wear uniforms?”

  “Since we attacked a German supply train and discovered a shipment of uniforms headed to the front. They have come in quite handy.”

  The young soldier returned with a dented metal coffee pitcher in one hand and two tin cups in his other. Setting both next to the large map, he poured their coffee then met Bernard’s gaze. “Last of the ammo is being loaded as we speak, then we’ll be ready to head out.” Mikhail watched as the young man pivoted on one heel and headed back toward the main fire.

  “See, my friend?” Bernard raised the cup then took a sip of the steaming brew. “German officers like their conveniences, and good coffee seems to be one of them. Drink and enjoy while you can.”

  Mikhail chuckled and raised his cup in a mock salute. “No need to tell me twice. I’ve missed good coffee.”

  After finishing the second cup of coffee, it was time to leave. He said his goodbyes to most of the children. Adela and her brother lay curled up in their blankets already asleep, and he didn’t have the heart or strength to tell them goodbye. The men made their way to the cave entrance and across the small clearing to where several olive-green Mercedez-Benz, two-ton, utility trucks waited. Wooden crates with spray-painted German insignias had been stacked inside the cab of the truck. The group knew they would be stopped and searched, telling Mikhail just how risky this excursion would be. They were heading into the German-occupied war zone.

  He climbed into the back of the closest truck and settled in for the long ride. To pass the time, he pulled out the small notebook he always carried with him and began sketching the faces of the men sitting on the narrow bench across from him. After finishing the squared jaw of the Italian opposite him, he turned his attention to the landscape outside the back of the truck. This proved difficult since the only line of sight was through the small hole where the canvas was tied.

  Finally, the truck slowed to a stop, and everyone held their breath. The guttural words from the German sentry demanded their papers and wanted to know why they were on this road. His demands were answered by the loud bang from someone’s gun. The following silence was deafening as they waited to see if there were more Germans nearby.

  More gunfire answered that question, and the men jumped into action. The soldier closest to the back pulled on the tie, and the canvas fell open as the Resistance fighters jumped down and swarmed around the back of the truck.

  Mikhail stood, grabbing the rifle Bernard had given him just before they’d pulled out. He’d only taken two steps toward the end of the truck bed when he heard the sound of something scraping over wood behind the crates. Frowning, he turned and made his way to the front of the bed. Slowly, he perched on the tops of his boots and peered over the tops of the crates but couldn’t see anything.

  He stood still, listening, and heard another scrape then the sound of someone shushing. His heart fell. Staring at the crate in front of him, he had an idea. He grabbed the crate and pulled it from the top to find himself staring at the weary faces of Adela and Julek.

  Shaking his head, he dropped the crate on the bench beside him and faced the kids. “What in the world are the two of you doing here? You’re supposed to be with Bernard and the others back in the cave. Safe.”

  Julek shoved his cap to the back of his head and scratched the flattened curls above his forehead. “Adela and I decided we didn’t trust your friend. We trust you.” The six-year-old rubbed one eye with his fist. “We don’t want to be left behind again.”

  What could he say to that? Staring at their pinched faces, he read the worry and fear in their eyes. These two little ones had lost their parents and their entire way of life. How could he not respond to their plea? He had no idea how he was supposed to fight a war and take care of two children, but maybe by the time they arrived in Stalingrad, he’d have it figured out. Opening his arms, he folded them into his embrace.

  Area near Stalingrad, Soviet Union

  “Natalya!” Lilyann screamed.

  Natalya focused on holding the plane steady then, without warning, dropped the nose toward the ground, which rose to meet them. Just before she lost control, she leveled out the plane then quickly banked to the left, maneuvering the U2 about a foot above the treetops.