Sapphire Skies Read Online Free PDF

pilots had been waiting in a hut. They had expected the Germans to start their attack in the morning but there was no sign of the enemy so far. Alisa, another female fighter pilot in the regiment, was sleeping. Filipp was reading a book but didn’t appear to be turning the pages. These two, along with Natasha and Orlov, were the pilots who had survived since the battle of Stalingrad. The other pilots were new. Some people said that the longer you flew the more likely you were to survive, but others said the opposite.
    While waiting for the call to scramble, Orlov and Natasha would usually remain silent, each focusing on the task ahead of them. Occasionally, when it seemed unlikely they would be called on to fly they would dare to look to the future. How many children they would have, what they would do for work, how they would spend their summers. Natasha told him that the war had destroyed her love of flying, and after it was over she wanted nothing more than to be a good wife and give piano lessons to children. Orlov remembered studying his lover’s face that afternoon and the frown lines between her eyes. She had balled her hands into fists as if trying to restrain herself. She normally had a way of putting death out of her mind. ‘It’s no use mourning the fallen,’ she used to say. ‘I have to keep my head so I can fight for the living.’
    The knowledge that the Luftwaffe was preparing for a massive air attack to halt the Soviet advance was sobering enough, but Orlov sensed that the peculiar tension in Natasha’s manner had another source. Perhaps it was because their beloved regimental commander had been killed a few days before. Natasha often said her worst nightmare was to go down in flames. Was it the death of Colonel Smirnov that was bothering her?
    Her edginess worried Orlov, but when he suggested substituting another pilot for her she wouldn’t hear of it. She had forced a smile and attempted to lighten the mood by telling him about the time she had met Stalin. ‘I thought it was the most exciting day of my life. I was fourteen years old.’
    From the moment Natasha had come into his life, she had been a dazzling light to Orlov, all paradox and enticing mystery, a tough fighter pilot one moment and at other times as innocent as a child. Although he had never liked her veneration of Stalin, he had learned to tolerate it. But he had to tell her the truth and this might be his last opportunity.
    ‘Listen, Natasha, there is something you should know,’ he said.
    When the ingenuous expression on Natasha’s face had crumpled, it was as if he had taken a favourite doll from a child and trampled it into the dirt. But before he had any chance to explain himself further the alarm had sounded. German bombers had been spotted and they had to scramble for their planes. That was the last time he had spoken to her.
    Sometimes Orlov wondered if what he had said that afternoon had caused her to go over to the other side, to assist the Germans. But he found that impossible to believe. Natasha was intensely loyal. She would not have betrayed her friends. Perhaps instead what he had revealed had destroyed the things that made her a great fighter pilot — her determination, her passion and her concentration. Maybe she had panicked and made a fatal error.
    Orlov had never lost a wingman in battle until then; when he did it was his precious Natasha.
    He covered his face with his hands and he wept. His shoulders shook and his chest heaved as tears poured from his eyes. Those events had taken place over half a century ago, but it was as if she’d vanished only yesterday.

FOUR
Moscow, 1937
    I met Stalin once. I thought it was the most exciting day of my life. I was fourteen years old.
    ‘Natasha, we are here!’ cried my father, when the official car we were travelling in passed St Basil’s Cathedral and approached the Spassky Gate.
    I stared out the window at the red walls and towers of the Kremlin. I had seen the outer