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18 Girls, It's War! The June night seemed in no hurry to arrive, though the hour was quite late. My flights had dragged on far into the evening, and tired though I was, I couldn't go home yet. I still had to debrief my cadets and finish their logbook entries. I had scarcely sat down at my desk, when my friend Mashenka popped her head in the door. "Don't stay too long, Anyuta! We're off to the forest early in the morning ," she said and flitted away. 17wt'5 right, today'5 Saturday, I thought. After so many weeks with no weekends and no days off, we were due for a break. How wonderful that the girls had the idea for a picnic in the woods! The weather was absolutely made to order, and there was no shortage of enticing spots near Kalinin. We had only to board a tram, which would take us straight to a pine forest behind the "Proletarka" stop. We took the first morning tram and filled it with laughter, jokes, and songs. We so seldom had the chance to get together and enjoy ourselves like regular young people. "People in your position should be more serious," joked the tram driver. "You look down on the world from a great height." Not today, we didn't. The minute we reached the forest, we ran whooping and screaming like wild beasts among the towering pines. We were starved for a bit of fresh air. Nothing can compare to the marvelous Russian countryside. I wish you could see it for yourself, especially in the morning, when the curtain of mist lifts to present the day's opening act. You can't look upon it without marveling at the spectacle. Our inseparable flock of four girls-Tamara Konstantinova, Katya Piskareva , Masha, and I- roosted on a blanket spread across the thick, sweetsmelling grass. What a delight it was to lie still, chattering about whatever popped into our minds and breathing in the pine-scented air. For the moment , peace prevailed. The virgin forest uttered not a sound, sunlight filtered through the branches, and dew sparkled on the grass like diamonds. And then, suddenly, voices-unnaturally loud men's voices, arguing. I turned my head toward where our male comrades had been sitting. A man who hadn't come with us on the tram approached, his face darkened with alarm. His voice trembled as he said, "Girls, it's war! I just heard it on the radio in the village." 64 RED SKY, BLACK DEATH War. What a hateful, terrible word. It's like a sword, slashing the world into pieces. Joy and light flee into the past, and the future promises only suffering and despair. Seconds after the pilot uttered those thunderous words, the scene before us transformed. The colors of the forest morning faded, and the once tranquil silence twisted into something ominous. In that quiet moment, each of us heard the inner voice of his conscience. Just yesterday, our lives were simple and ordinary. All that the world demanded of us was to fulfill our official duties conscientiously and attend to our personal lives. But today and onward demanded the greatest possible spiritual maturity. In that moment, we knew our characters would be tested to the utmost and revealed for whatever they truly were. Our value as human beings would be tried, as would our courage and our loyalty to the motherland. It was instantly clear to us, standing there in the pine grove that Sunday morning, that our country must rise to mortal combat, and that we were blessed with a valuable and scarce gift that would soon be sorely needed. We knew in that moment that we would not stand aside when the time came. "It's time to go home," someone said. Less than an hour later, we all ran into each other at the town military commissariat. "Attend to your own work, girls," the military commissar urged us when we asked to be sent to the front. "There'll be plenty of work to do in the rear." After a month and a half of twiddling my thumbs at the aerodrome, far from the action, my patience ran out. Troubling reports from the initial days of the war spurred us to action, especially when we learned that the aeroclub would soon be evacuated far to the rear. So I bought a train ticket to Moscow. An aircraft technician named...

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