Sapphire Skies (26 page)

Then I remembered where I was and pulled the ring on my parachute. I clipped a tree on my way down and swung before hitting the ground at an awkward angle and briefly knocking myself out. When I came to, I saw the remaining German plane circling above. Had he seen me jump?

I lay still until the plane departed then sat up. It was a miracle that I’d survived the jump apparently in one piece. I felt my arms and legs and everything seemed all right except for a sharp pain in my side. But when I tried to stand up, pain seared through my legs. I sat down again and yanked off my boots. My feet were swollen and purple. I had either broken them or torn ligaments. I ripped the bottom off my shirt and bound my feet tightly, then gingerly put my boots back on.

I touched my belt and realised that I’d lost my pistol when I exited the plane. If the pilot had seen me he would alert the ground forces to my location. I prayed the partisans would reach me before the Germans did.

There was a grove of trees nearby and then a forest across another field. I could hide in the grove for now and then move to the forest after nightfall.

I hobbled towards the grove. Every step was agony. I hid myself in the undergrowth and picked my insignia and decorations off my uniform. If I was captured they would give away my identity. I folded my insignia inside my papers and buried them under the tree I was leaning against. Then I felt around my buttonhole and realised I’d also lost the brooch that Stalin had given me. I was glad to be rid of it now; it was a symbol of treachery. Not only was that monster responsible for Papa’s death, but he was to blame for my brother’s fate too. None of those metro volunteers would have been killed if Stalin had not set that impossible deadline. Without my rose-coloured glasses I saw everything clearly.

When darkness fell, I made my way towards the forest. I stumbled, fell, crawled and got up again until I reached the trees. I held onto a trunk to spare my feet having to bear the weight of my body. In the distance I could hear bursts of machine-gun and artillery fire. The front was moving closer. Maybe I could hide myself until the Soviet Army recaptured the forest.

Suddenly, I heard the hum of motor cycle engines and dropped down into the grass. A patrol of Germans passed right by me. The sight of them made my heart race. I had to go deeper into the forest. Each time I moved, I set myself the small goal of reaching the next tree; and at each rest stop I thought of something that gave me pleasure to help me regain my strength. I heard music and imagined dancing with Valentin; I saw myself reading Tolstoy to Svetlana; I pictured Mama arranging flowers in her apartment, with Dasha asleep on a pillow beside her; I thought of delicious
pelmeni
, sweet-smelling flowers, pretty dresses and perfume.

Finally, in too much pain to move any more, I curled up against the base of a pine tree and stared at the starry sky. I was aware of every rustle and animal sound in the undergrowth around me. It was summer and the bears, lynxes and wolves would be active. But I wasn’t as afraid of them as I was of the Germans. Predatory animals killed when they were hungry or to protect their young. They didn’t kill their own kind en masse in an orgy of greed and evil. And I recalled Ludmila’s words:
If either of you is ever in danger of being captured, you must shoot yourself rather than be taken prisoner by those monsters
.

I tried to stay awake but fell asleep sometime before dawn. I dreamed that a figure stepped out of the early morning mist and put a pistol to my head. I woke with a start but there was no one there. The forest was devoid of human sounds, but the woodpeckers and quails were busy looking for food. I watched the sky brighten. When I tried to stand, I stumbled and fell. The pain in my feet and side was worse, but I couldn’t stay in the forest. I had to find help.

Somewhere nearby I heard the trickle of a stream. I crawled on my hands and knees towards the sound. When I found the water, I plunged my hands in and cried with relief. I drank great scoops of it, then, gritting my teeth, I removed my boots and soaked my swollen feet. Half an hour later I began moving again, using the method I had tried the day before — tree to tree, rock to rock.

Later, I saw Junkers tear across the sky accompanied by fighters. It was hard to believe that only a day ago I had been in a plane going out to meet them. I thought about my Yak, buried somewhere in the forest. Would anyone find it? If I died here would anyone find me?

Eventually I became feverish and could walk no further. I burrowed into the undergrowth, hoping that an hour or so of sleep might give me the strength to move again. I woke a short while later, all my senses alert. Two rabbits were running through the undergrowth. I heard footsteps … human footsteps. I thought I was dreaming again but then two figures appeared from the trees. One of them saw me and gave a cry. I thought I was finished but then I heard a woman’s voice.

‘Natasha!’

Svetlana! Was this real or was my fever making me hallucinate? I tried to stand but collapsed. I looked up and saw Svetlana standing above me. Behind her was a young boy, maybe ten years old.

Svetlana threw her arms around me. ‘I knew I would find you!’

‘How did you?’ I asked her, still unable to believe she was really there. ‘Have we taken Orël?’

Svetlana shook her head. ‘No, not yet. I crossed the frontline in the dark and avoided the enemy. The partisans helped me locate where you went down. They sent this boy to help me find you. He knows the forest well.’ She glanced at my feet. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘I injured my feet when I jumped,’ I told her. ‘I can’t stand on them for long.’

Svetlana turned to the boy. ‘Help me carry her.’

The boy grabbed my legs while Svetlana slipped her hands under my arms. But when they lifted me it felt as if my ribs were coming apart and I couldn’t breathe. I cried out with pain and they placed me on the ground again.

‘We won’t make any progress that way,’ Svetlana said. ‘You’re too badly hurt. We’re close to a road and village here and we’ll be noticed unless we move quickly.’ She turned to the boy. ‘Can you get help? Is there anyone in the village you trust?’

The boy’s eyes darted from Svetlana to me as if he were sizing us up. He was gaunt and nervous, not at all like a boy that age should be. I was sorry that life had made him that way.

‘I’ll get help,’ he told Svetlana. ‘You wait here with her.’ And he disappeared into the forest again.

‘Who is he?’ I asked Svetlana.

‘An orphan who lives with the partisans. They had to blow up a bridge to stop the Germans getting supplies, so they sent the boy with me. He’s wild but he apparently knows every inch of this forest.’

‘Can we trust him?’

It felt like a harsh question to ask about a child. But this was war. You had to be careful of everyone.

‘The partisans use him as a guide,’ Svetlana replied. ‘So I’m sure we can.’ She kneeled behind me and rested my head in her lap. ‘Natasha, will you ever forgive me?’

I reached up and touched her face. ‘I’m sorry I became so angry. None of it was your fault. None of it! It was Stalin who signed my father’s execution order. It was he who betrayed Papa. Perhaps your mother’s accusations didn’t help, but Stalin could have easily rejected them.’

Svetlana removed my leather flying helmet, which I hadn’t realised I was still wearing, and placed it on the ground beside her. She stroked my throbbing forehead. ‘You would have been proud of me, Natasha. Sharavin didn’t expect me to persevere. But I made it past the frontline. I pushed any dark thoughts from my head, as you’ve always told me to do. I kept repeating, “Natasha is alive and I will find her.”’

I smiled at her. ‘I’ve always been proud of you, Sveta.’

She leaned over to pick some bilberries from a nearby bush and fed them to me one by one. ‘Valentin has been searching for you. Perhaps the partisans will be able to get a message to him somehow.’

She stopped and looked around her. I had heard it too: something in the distance. I sat bolt upright despite the pain in my ribs. Engines. I could smell exhaust fumes. Svetlana had said we were near a road but we must have been closer than I’d realised. Then the sound of trucks was replaced by voices. They were shouting orders. Dogs barked. Had the boy alerted the whole village? Did they have to make such a racket? Then I heard the voices more distinctly: they were speaking in German. My blood turned cold.

I looked around. I couldn’t escape, but Svetlana could still run. Then I realised the voices were coming from all directions. We were surrounded. Had the boy alerted the wrong person in the village by mistake? Or had he deliberately double-crossed us in return for some advantage?

I turned to Svetlana. There was terror in her eyes. I knew what she was thinking. To be captured by the Germans and abused at their hands wasn’t a future we could endure. We knew the only course we had now.

Svetlana swallowed then took the pistol from her belt. ‘I used three of the bullets to scare off a wild boar,’ she said. ‘There must be three left.’ She handed the gun to me. ‘I’ll never be able to do it, and I can’t watch you die,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘Please … me first and then … you.’

I choked back tears. How could I destroy my dearest friend? But what other choice did we have? We knew what awaited us at the hands of the Germans and in a few minutes the choice would be taken from us. I grabbed the gun from Svetlana.

She fumbled in her pocket, then handed me the identification capsule that I’d given her before my last flight. ‘So if our comrades ever find us, they will know who we are,’ she said.

I slipped the capsule into my pocket. Using the tree for support, I raised myself to my feet. ‘Please turn around,’ I told her. I couldn’t shoot her if she faced me.

There were only three bullets in the gun. The worst thing would be to botch the job and not kill her cleanly. I pointed the barrel at the back of Svetlana’s head, then hesitated, unsure of my decision.

‘I love you,’ I said.

‘I love you too,’ she replied.

The voices and barks grew louder. I saw German soldiers coming through the trees. One shouted out: he’d spotted me. They started running towards us.

‘Now, Natasha,’ Svetlana pleaded. ‘Please, now. I am ready.’

My heart pounded in my chest. An image of Svetlana and me running home from school flashed through my mind. ‘God forgive us,’ I said, tormented by the unspeakable act I was about to commit. I pulled the trigger. The shot rang out and sent a flock of grouse into flight. Svetlana slumped forward. Her body quivered for a moment then stopped.

Now she was gone, I longed to follow her. I lifted the pistol to my temple and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. I pulled it again. Nothing. The next thing I felt was a blow from a fist to my head, which sent me sprawling to the ground.

The world went black.

I regained consciousness on the floor of a storage bunker. The air was hot and reeked of sacking and gunpowder. It was dim in the room and everything was hazy. My head throbbed and so did my ribs and my feet. My neck was stiff but I managed to lift my head to look for Svetlana. Then I remembered what had happened. My throat thickened and I thought I was suffocating.

A German guard was standing near the door. When he saw that I was coming to, he called to another guard outside. I heard the words ‘
die Mechanikerin
’. Then he turned back to me and shouted in Russian, ‘Stand up!’

The command brought me to my senses. My heart skipped a beat but I couldn’t move.

‘Stand up!’ the guard shouted again, jabbing my hip with the end of his gun.

I brought my legs under me and slowly straightened myself up.

‘
Die Mechanikerin
,’ the guard repeated to the man outside and I realised he was talking about me. Why did he think I was a mechanic and not a pilot?

The guard outside shouted something and the one next to me pointed his gun at me again and jerked his head. My feet were still too painful to bear my full weight and I stumbled when I tried to walk. The guard grabbed my arm to support me and led me out the door and onto an airfield. Every step was torture and bile rose in my throat. Pilots, mechanics and armourers all turned their heads to look at me. To find myself on an enemy airfield, surrounded by German airmen and their ground crew sent chills through me. Some of the men seemed curious while others glared at me. But among those stares were a few that conveyed pity and that surprised me.

The command bunker was underground. A map of the front took up an entire wall. Near it, an operator was listening to Soviet radio transmissions. My ears picked up the crackled voices of the Russian pilots. The call signs weren’t those of my regiment but the sound of fellow fighters heading into battle made me realise how far away I was from Valentin now. I may never see him again, I thought. My captors were probably planning to interrogate me and then shoot me — or worse.

There was a man sitting at a desk writing on some papers; I assumed he was the commander. He looked up when the guard announced me and I recognised him. It was the Black Diamond. He was as handsome up close as he had been at a distance, only now I could see that his trousers were crumpled and his chiselled face was darkened by stubble. He pointed to a chair and said something to the guard in German. The guard dropped me into the chair and left.

The Black Diamond stared at me for a long time, then picked up the identification capsule from his desk and played with it in his hand.

‘We both know that you are not the mechanic,’ he said in educated Russian. He had a strong, theatrical voice and only the slight touch of an accent.

I glanced at the capsule and understood what had caused the mix-up. In the panic of being surrounded, Svetlana had given me hers by mistake. Because I had taken the insignia off my uniform, apart from the capsule, there had been no way to identify me.

The Black Diamond pursed his lips. ‘I think it’s best that you keep that cover. We have orders that all Soviet female combatants be shot on capture. Field Marshal von Kluge despises the idea of Russian women killing German men.’

I stiffened. It was typical German arrogance. They expected Russian women to stand by while they slaughtered our families. As disgusted as I was, I refrained from responding in case the Black Diamond was trying to trick me into giving him information.

‘There isn’t much I can do for you now,’ he said, lowering his voice so the operator couldn’t hear him. ‘I’ve requested for you to go to a prisoner-of-war camp where most of the inmates are British and American soldiers. They might be able to help you. I should warn you that Germany has a policy of starving Soviet prisoners to death. But even if the High Command obeyed the Geneva Convention, your own leader, Stalin, refuses to allow Red Cross assistance to any Soviets who are captured.’

I didn’t need any more evidence to convince me that Stalin was a tyrant but I still couldn’t be sure how much of what the Black Diamond said was true. Perhaps he was trying to scare me into talking.

‘Why don’t you say something?’ he asked, sounding exasperated. ‘You don’t know how you’ve terrorised my pilots. When the radio operator reported that you were in the sky, it was hard to get the men to fly. Even senior pilots were scared of you. You are the only person to have shot me down.’ He stood and moved closer to me. ‘Listen, I’m not going to interrogate you if that’s what you’re thinking. Germany has made a mess of things and we’re not going to win this war. There’s nothing I can get from you that is going to save us. But there is one thing I would like to know. Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?’

That, I didn’t understand myself. Apart from his resemblance to Alexander, perhaps I’d seen him as another human being. Or maybe I’d spared him because I admired his courage and skill.

When I didn’t answer, the Black Diamond sighed. ‘What a pity that the war has put us on different sides,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘You are very beautiful … and determined. We could have married and run a flying school together.’

Despite the horror of my situation, the Black Diamond’s ridiculous comment made me smile. He intrigued me. He was handsome, charismatic and spoke refined Russian. He came across as a decent human being. If he hadn’t killed Colonel Smirnov, I would not have regretted sparing his life.

The radio operator called out to the Black Diamond: he seemed to have discovered something on the transmitter. The Black Diamond picked up the microphone on his desk and made an announcement that was carried to the airfield by loudspeakers. He moved to the door and called out to the guard who was waiting to take me back to the store room, then turned to me.

‘Listen, I’m going to order the guard to bring you a meal. I also want the medical orderly to look at your feet. Don’t refuse our help out of foolish pride. It might be the last assistance you get and the journey to Germany is a long one.’

Germany! I wasn’t going to Germany. It was bad enough to be a prisoner, but to be taken away so far from Mama and Valentin was unthinkable.

I cooperated with the medical orderly when he examined my feet, smothered them with a pungent balm and bound them tightly. I ate the black bread and potatoes the guard brought me. But I didn’t do those things because I was afraid or grateful; I did them because I was gathering my strength in order to escape.

As I ate, memories of my last moments with Svetlana came back to me: her frightened face; the sound of her voice as she told me that she loved me; the jolt of the gun in my hand when I ended her life. But I had to push them away. I couldn’t think of Svetlana any more. I couldn’t even grieve for her. It wasn’t that I didn’t love her but that I had loved her so much. When I’d held the pistol to my head I had been prepared to die with her. But now that I’d survived, I no longer had that wish. I couldn’t think about her death and go on living. And I had made the decision to survive so I could return to Mama and Valentin.

Escaping while I was still near my regiment was the most desirable scenario and the guards knew that. I spent several nights in the store room with them watching me like a hawk. They made no allowances for my sex when I used the toilet and kept their guns on me the whole time. Another woman might have tried flirtation but I couldn’t bring myself to do that. Then one morning I was taken out of the store room and put on the back of a truck. The pain in my feet had lessened and I was sure that I could run if I had to. I scanned the landscape as we drove, memorising landmarks so I could find my way back once I’d got free. But the guard who travelled with me was also vigilant. The punishment for letting a prisoner escape must have been severe.

The truck came to a stop at a railroad junction. A group of Red Army prisoners was sitting in the scorching sun, supervised by German soldiers. The guard pushed me from the truck and marched me towards the men. The prisoners looked dejected. Had they given up so easily? I was forced to sit down and one of the men glanced up at me. His face was bruised and he had a wound to his arm that needed attention. I stifled a cry when I recognised him. It was Filipp.

A cattle train approached the junction. While the guards were distracted I moved closer to him.

‘What happened to you?’ he whispered. ‘I thought you were dead.’

‘I ran out of fuel and ammunition — I had to jump. You too?’

He nodded. ‘I took a bad hit.’

The train’s brakes squealed and it came to a stop. The engine pulled eight wagons, two of which had booths manned by soldiers clutching machine guns. My chances of escaping looked slimmer by the minute. A guard opened the door to one of the wagons and the prisoners were ordered inside. Filipp helped me up and we sat together near a small window. It was stifling inside the wagon and we hadn’t been given any water. My throat was parched and I was sweating as if I were in a sauna.

After the guards slammed the door shut, I told Filipp about the Black Diamond and what he’d said about the way Germans treated Soviet prisoners of war.

‘We have to escape,’ I said. ‘But we’ll have to do it in the dark.’

‘The Black Diamond is dead,’ Filipp said as the train started to move. ‘Captain Orlov shot him down the day before yesterday.’

The mention of Valentin made my heart ache. Svetlana had said he was searching for me. I hoped that he wouldn’t do anything foolish. He couldn’t save me now. All I wanted was for him to survive the war so that one day we could be together again. I remembered the joke the Black Diamond had made about he and I getting married and running a flying school. I was sorry he was dead. That brief coversation had made me like him. But if it were a choice between him and Valentin, I was glad my lover had been the victor.

I peered at the landscape moving past the window. It was open farmland now and all of it in enemy territory. ‘How are we going to escape?’ I asked Filipp.

One of the soldiers cleared his throat and held up a penknife. ‘We’ll cut a hole in the door and lift the bolt.’

So the soldiers hadn’t given up at all. They’d merely been acting that way to fool the Germans.

The soldier used the penknife to pierce the door, then filed the metal to create a larger hole so he could slip his hand through. I told the others not to watch him in case our anxiety made the penknife break, but the screech of the metal set my teeth on edge. The tension made the air in the car even hotter. I could barely breathe. When the blisters on the soldier’s hands started to bleed, he passed the knife to another man.

We all took turns filing the door until the train slowed and came to a stop. We heard the guards shouting and other harsh voices answering. We glanced at each other: had someone noticed us cutting the door? I squinted through the window. A group of German soldiers stood outside the car talking. If they saw the cut in the door we were finished.

I heard more voices but they were those of women and children. I craned my neck and saw that hundreds of people carrying suitcases and bundles of belongings, were being loaded onto the train. There were only eight cars. How were they going to fit?

‘They’ve stopped to pick up more passengers,’ I whispered to the others.

‘Passengers?’ echoed one of the prisoners. ‘This isn’t a passenger train.’

‘They must be forced labourers,’ said Filipp.

The train began to move and we resumed filing the hole. Our only chance to escape would be at night and we had to work quickly. The train was travelling rapidly for wartime and I was terrified we’d be in Poland before we got out.

‘Listen,’ I told Filipp, ‘don’t wait for me. Save yourself. I hurt my feet when I jumped from my plane and I don’t know how fast I’ll be able to run.’

He frowned at me.

‘I mean it,’ I said. ‘You’re not my wingman any more. If you survive and I don’t, find Valentin and my mother and tell them what happened to me. Tell them that I never stopped thinking of them.’

Filipp nodded then looked away. ‘You’ll survive,’ he said. ‘You are the bravest woman I’ve ever known. After the war, Comrade Stalin will personally name you Hero of the Soviet Union twice over.’

After what Valentin had told me, I doubted that.

Late that night, we succeeded in cutting the hole in the door. One of the soldiers snapped through the wire that held the bolt shut.

‘We’ll go in order of rank,’ he said. ‘You first, Comrade Lieutenant Azarova.’

I gaped at him. How did he know who I was?

‘Your picture hung on the wall of my bunker,’ he said with a sheepish grin.

He opened the door and the night air rushed inside. I peered into the darkness, petrified. Trees flashed by. We were passing through a forest. Jumping from a moving train was more frightening than parachuting from a plane. If we waited for the train to slow down there was a greater chance of the guards seeing us. But if I hit a tree or went over a ravine I’d be killed. Yet there was no other option: I leaped into the night.

Pain jolted through my feet when I hit the ground. The momentum carried me onto my side and I rolled down a slope and crashed into a tree. The impact winded me and I gasped. I didn’t see the other men jump but there was shouting and the train squealed to a stop. Machine-gun fire split the air. The Germans had reacted faster than we had anticipated.

I dragged myself behind the trees and kept my head low. Spotlights shone around the area. Guard dogs barked. Then there were more shouts and gunfire. I pushed myself as flat against the ground as I could. Someone ran past me. A light caught him. Filipp! There was a rattle of machine-gun fire and he was shot full of holes.

The air went silent. I heard the wagon door slam shut and wondered if the soldiers had given up searching and were getting back on the train. Then I felt a weight on my back. A boot. Someone dragged me to my feet by my collar and pushed me back up the slope. A German guard. When we reached the track, he boxed me around the ears and punched me in the stomach. I collapsed to my knees, sure that he was going to shoot me, but instead he wrenched me up again and dragged me towards another wagon.