[caldrail]

Major Sergeyev of the VVS, the Russian Workers and Peasants Air Force, lowered his binoculars with his jaw set hard, nostrils flared. He turned to his colleague beside him outside the headquarters tent.

"When Bessenov gets out of that plane, I want that an explanation. Have her brought here at once." He ordered bluntly. Captain Alexi Fedor nodded acknowledgement. He could see Sergeyov was furious. They had scrambled four fighters to see off some attackers from Finland, four Messeschmitts descending down on their airfield at Rovamkevi to attack. Only Lieutenant Ilyana Bessenov had returned..There was no sign of any other aircraft.

The solitary Lavochkin La5FN made a wide curving approach, the big Shvetsov radial engine popping loudly at idle as it glided in. She landed with a gentle precision before turning toward the parking area, the fighter bouncing softly on the ruts in the grass. The fighter swerved around and halted, engine coming to a stop with a sharp rattle. Bessenov hauled back the canopy and youthfully bounded out of the cockpit before the mechanics arrived beside her plane. Fedor heard the cheering. He glanced back at the tent where Sergeyov waited and knew he too would have heard it.

There was no doubting Bessenov was a good pilot. She was already an acknowledged ace, with seven kills to her credit. Fedor saw the joyful smirk on her face as she approached the tents. "Three more, Nikolayev. Three more."

Her mechanic waved back at her and went off to find his paintbrush. Bessenov pulled her leather helmet away and shook her hair loose. A few airmen began to assemble around her, eager for details of the fight.

"Bessenov!" Fedor shouted, "Report to the headquarters tent now. Immediately."

She gave a playful slap to one of her comrades and walked alone toward him. He motioned her to go inside before she said anything. Bessenov looked askance at him for an instant before she leant foward and entered the tent. Fedor followed behind.

Major Sergeyov was sat at his desk reading communiques of one sort or another. He seemed not to notice. Bessenov looked back at Fedor for moment, but he made no suggestion.

"You wanted to see me Sir?" She asked.

"It is customary to stand to attention in the presence of your commanding officer." He growled without looking up. She breathed out and did as Sergeyov had said. At last he tossed the paper away and leant back in the chair.

"Lieutenant Bessenov. Congratulations, I understand you shot an aeroplane down this morning."

"Three aeroplanes, Sir. The first two..."

"Enough!" She visibly winced as he stood up to ask "Where is your flight, Lieutenant?"

"I don't know Sir."

"You don't know? You don't know? Then let me enlighten you Lieutenant. We have three missing pilots. One went down in flames. We see another explode in a ball of fire over the lake half an hour ago. I doubt we'll find much of him left. Do you?"

"No Sir".

"And when can we expect the other pilot home?"

She looked down for an instant. Sergeyov nodded, "I thought so. All three shot down by those Finnish pilots. You're supposed to be their flight leader Bessenov!"

"Sir, I was sent to shoot down enemy planes. I am not going to spend all my time nursemaiding novices when I have better things to do..."

"Evidently", He interrupted, "But those were pilots we need, not to mention three good fighter aircraft we must replace. You're a good flyer, Bessenov, but you must stop this solitary hunting of yours. Is that clear?.... Fedor, debrief the Lieutenant, I have more important things to attend to."

With that Sergeyev took his cap and left the tent muttering to himself. She raised her eyebrows ruefully. Fedor passed her a cigarette. She accepted and leaned over his lighter for a moment.

"Perhaps now you can tell your story Ilyana." He said, pulling a notebook from his pocket and licking the end of a pencil. "All of it, please."

"After I took off I saw the lead one-oh-nine swooping down on my number four. He was just leaving the ground. A sitting duck. So I turned and went for him. Finland must have seen though, because he pulled up hard. I was too fast to pull in behind him and I went up into cloud. Couldn't see anything in that cloud, but then by chance I spot a one-oh-nine ahead of me, just visible. I fire, and he rolls over in flames."

"A kill?" Fedor asked.

"Oh yes. Most definite. His wing came off. I gained some height and looked for enemy. I see a big explosion below. I hear it too. Very loud. Then I see a one-oh-nine coming up underneath it. I think to myself, he is next. I had started to descend. Then I spot another one-oh-nine was turning to attack my rear. I barrel-rolled over him and fell in behind. He was easy to shoot down. Lots of black smoke. He hadn't bailed out before I lost sight of him."

She stopped to inhale, letting out a stream of cigarette smoke as if to illustrate her tale, then flicked ash into a metal cup on the desk. She never asked if that was okay, Fedor noticed, but that was typical of her.

"Then I see one below. I dive after him. He must have seen me, because he starts careering all over the place. Those first two were no trouble, but this one? Fedor, you have no idea. I was sweating like a pig in that cockpit. I thought I would black out a couple of times, so tight we were turning. Round and round, up and over. I kept firing but by the time i pull the trigger, he is somewhere else. I was screaming at him, and still he kept turning. But then..."

A sly smile crossed her face, she leaned forward and spoke quieter, almost in conspirital manner. "He suddenly flies unsteady, straight ahead, like he nearly loses it. At last! I fire a long burst and I see bits falling off him. I fire again, he is right there, in my sights. Then I see tracer passing me! Oh Fedor, I was so close to him. I could smell him soil his trousers..."

She let out a laugh, then placated Fedor with a gesture before she drew on the cigarette again and resumed her tale.

"But I had to leave him. Another one-oh-nine was behind me so I dive away to the left. This one was sneakier. He deliberately flies into cloud and I lose him. Gone. Now I am angry, because I should have shot the other Messerschmitt down. I fly around for a minute or two but nothing, he is gone. Then I see the other one, down between the clouds, flying wesr. Now I finish the job. I dive down. He is some way off but I am starting to gain on him. Then you know what? He jumps out! Fedor, I ask you, is that any way for an airman to behave?... Jumping out... pfuh!"

Fedor poured a small vodka into his own cup and offered it. She took the cup. He gestured to her to continue. "You haven't finished."

"Not much more to say. That one-oh-nine in the cloud vanished, I don't know where he went. Then I see the pilot who bailed out. He is dangling there beneath his parachute. So I go after him. To finish the job."

Fedor watched her face intently. He could see a coldness in her, for all her affability. He said nothing.

"He is right there, in my sights. I press the trigger... and click, my guns are empty. What am I to do? Well, I was close to their airfield by then and their flak was shooting at me. So I wave to him and come home. Salute!"

She raised the cup, then downed the vodka with a thump to her chest. Bessenov had a sense of theatre inappropriate for an air force officer. As good a pilot as she was, her career was going no further. Fedor closed the notebook and placed the pencil back inside his pocket.

"Thank you, Ilyana. Thats all... Oh just one last thing. You haven't mentioned anything about the other pilots?"

"What could I do?" She shrugged, stubbed out the cigarette, and left the tent to join a few wellwishers outside.