Red Star Against The Swastika: The Story of a Soviet Pilot over the Eastern Front by Vasily Emelianenko

Red Star Against The Swastika: The Story of a Soviet Pilot over the Eastern Front by Vasily Emelianenko

Author:Vasily Emelianenko [Emelianenko, Vasily]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Greenhill Books
Published: 2005-12-01T05:00:00+00:00


* * *

* Tabachok is a diminutive form of tabak – tobacco.

* ‘Humpback’ was a nickname for the Shturmovik Il-2 at the Russian front.

12

THE CAUCASUS

We moved from Novoselitskoye to the Kurskaya airfield, and were now to the east of Mineralnye Vody. There were still only two planes in the regiment: numbers 8 and 9. After the bombing of Prochnookopskaya I made ten sorties together with Misha.

It was 8 August 1942, and the heat was unbearable. The armoured parts of the Shturmoviks were red-hot. Each time I taxied to the start the water in the cooling system started to boil, and the engine was smoking. The planes, loaded with bombs, could only take off at the very edge of the airfield.

We used to fly wearing nothing but underwear and light flying suits, but it still felt like we were sitting in a tank, even if the window was open. When we came back from a flight we taxied to the dispersal area near the forest. Kholobaev was already there, holding a water hose. ‘Come on, guys, get undressed! Quickly!’

We pulled off the suits, and allowed the squirts of water to beat on our backs, heads and bellies, washing away the tiredness and tension. We laughed and could really forget for several minutes what we had just gone through during the flight. After that we reported on the mission accomplished. Our staff ‘office’ was situated quite near the dispersal area. The head of staff’s deputy, Major Gudimenko, had made a table and some chairs from shell-boxes, and used to sit there with a map and other documents. After we reported on what we had managed to set on fire, or hurt, and how many Fritzes we had killed, there came time for the customary question: ‘What did you see?’

That was an endless procedure. Vasilij Tarasovich marked all our military information on the map, compared it with the results of the previous sortie, and took notes in the military operations register. And we knew that while he was keeping us busy with that stuff, four mechanics were again loading our planes with bombs, missiles, shells and cartridges. As soon as they were ready, the commander would set a new military task for us. We had already made two flights on that day, and were exhausted. We dreamed of lying in the shadow under the plane’s wing, and relaxing a bit.

‘What did you see on the road?’ Gudimenko was asking us in a polite, official tone.

‘Tanks, cars, artillery…’ I was answering casually. ‘There is a horde…’

He wouldn’t leave me alone, though he knew everything from my previous report. ‘Where is the head of the column?’

‘Approaching Mineralnye Vody…’

‘Will you please show it more precisely,’ he gave me a sharp-cut blue pencil, which we used to mark the enemy position on the map. I stuck the pencil into the spot where we had seen the enemy leading units, and pierced the map. Gudimenko frowned displeased, and took the pencil back. He placed a paper-case under the map, and drew the conventional sign – a blue arrow.



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