Sparrow Squadron - Excerpt

Chapter 2: The Call-Up

The locomotive blew its whistle. Vasya tilted her large summer hat as she hugged Yura. Aelya looked away. On the open platform, she shielded her eyes from the sun and scanned the mass of faces and the waving hands of those leaning out the windows of the carriages. She recognized a few people from the aeroclub and waved, but they were too preoccupied with their loved ones.

"Stay safe, please," Vasya told Yura.

"Don't worry," he said. "I had the best teacher."

Aelya's cheeks reddened and she cast her eyes downward. This was her last chance to say something. With his father already called up and his mother on factory shift, Yura had only her and Vasya to see him off.

"There's still so much for you to learn." What a terrible goodbye.

He smiled. "You sound like you want to go instead of me."

She grimaced. She was the better pilot. With the aeroclub shut down, he'd be flying and she'd be grounded. It wasn't fair.

"Maybe I should join up," she said, affecting a pout.

"A girl? In the Air Force?" Yura laughed.

"Marina Raskova teaches at the Air Force Academy."

"You're no Raskova. Or was that you who flew non-stop across Siberia? Was that last week?"

Actually, Raskova had crash-landed short of her goal, but Aelya would never disparage the great Raskova, even to put Yura in his place.

"Stop making this about you, Spacegirl," snapped Vasya. She was one to talk.

"I'm not. It's just . . . why couldn't they wait to call you up?" Aelya said.

Yura shrugged. "If they had, the war might be over by the time I joined."

"I'll wait for you," said Vasya.

Aelya flashed her an angry look at her obviously empty promise.

"It might be a while." Yura smiled. "We'll probably be stuck for months teaching Communism to the Germans when we get to Berlin."

Vasya leaned in for a kiss. Yura seemed surprised for a moment, then reciprocated. Aelya didn't like standing there, watching it. If anything, Yura's attention should have been focused on her. Stupid Yura. Now that he was in the Air Force, suddenly he thought he was better than she was. The most important things he would be doing from now on were all based on the lessons she had taught him.

Catcalls from the train broke up the embrace. The carriages began to roll. Yura frantically picked up his bags and hauled himself on board. As he waved from the door, the train slowly pulling away, a compulsion struck Aelya and she ran alongside.

"Watch the nose, then the gauges," she shouted. "And pay attention to the checklists!"

What else, what else? Yura just nodded and waved. Seconds later, he had moved too far away to hear anything she might have to say.

★

At the last step, the bag of onions nearly fell out of Vasya's hands. Aelya scooped it up smoothly and took the handles from her sister.

"You really should find something new to wear," Vasya said. "That thing stinks."

Aelya looked down at her dark blue tunic and skirt. "I only have the two Komsomol outfits."

"You know what I mean."

No, Aelya didn't know what she meant. The problem was that Vasya had no healthy sense of shame. After seeing Yura off, they had spent the whole day with the rest of the youth leaguers accosting shoppers at the bazaar to donate goods for soldiers' care packages. Vasya ignored their area organizer Fedor's instructions and continued to wear a summer dress—a brilliant red number, more ostentatious than the white one she'd worn on Sunday, when the war had started. The dress that billowed in the wind as she'd kissed Yura. Why did the image of those two keep playing in Aelya's mind?