simultaneously reconnoiter the disposition of
the enemy troops.
Usually, on my way to a target when the searchlights were off, I
tried to approach and hit the target before they knew my aircraft was
there. I would idle the engine and glide over the target noiselessly. But
when a searchlight lit up and caught me in its web other searchlights
also lit up, and I would find myself in their cross of lights. To escape
the searchlights, I idled the engine and sideslipped down into the
darkness. Even though it was a slip into pitch darkness, I could always determine the angle in relation to the ground. I never used flares
to clarify where I was; I was never disoriented because the searchlight
mirrors and the ground itself were my orientation. No matter how
blinded I was by the lights, I had to think and act quickly to level out
the aircraft. The next moment the enemy was fiercely trying to locate
my plane again, combing through space.
On this flight the antiaircraft guns were silent. I sensed something
very uncommon about that and then thought of the only reason for
the silence-German fighter aircraft! We had not been attacked in
this way before; we had not developed tactics to counter the attack of
fighter planes. I had considerable experience in combat and maneu vered to escape the searchlights, for to escape the searchlights was to
escape the fighter. But behind me flew young, inexperienced crewsreinforcements who did not escape. Four of the aircraft following me
were shot down. The tracer bullets set their planes on fire; our planes
were so vulnerable they were burning like sheets of paper. We were
not equipped with parachutes at that time, so eight girls burned in the
air. One was Irina Kashirina, who had landed the aircraft with the
dead pilot. It is a horrible scene when a plane is burning. First it
explodes; then it burns like a torch falling apart, and you can see
particles of fuselage, wings, tail, and human bodies scattered in the
air. The other crews who were in the air at that moment witnessed
that tragedy. I saw it with my own eyes as I returned from the
mission.
In the morning, when we realized that the girls had perished and
we would never see their smiling faces, never hear their voices, horror
seized us. We didn't sleep that day and the next night fulfilled our
combat missions without a wink of sleep. The everyday ration of
vodka in the army was 200 grams, and we were daily allowed 200
grams of dry wine. But the regimental commander forbade us to
drink, and we gave our word of honor not to break her order. Even
after that tragedy we kept our word.
Our airdrome was occasionally attacked from the air. In the Crimea
our field was bombed by a group of fascist fighters at dawn, when we
were in the field mess eating breakfast. We were at a new location,
and the logistics battalion hadn't yet camouflaged the airfield and
planes. We rushed from the mess to our planes, which were dispersed
on the field, and we flew off in all directions in order to save the
aircraft. I must confess that when I am telling you all these stories, I
am shivering as if going through hell over and over again. If I talk
about my war experiences, I cannot sleep afterwards, so much is my
agitation.
In the Taman area I was assigned to bomb a column of enemy
trucks and weapons moving along the road. The night was moonlit,
and this was not in our favor. The altitude was low, and the silhouette
of the aircraft was clearly discernible to the Germans, but for awhile
they masked and didn't fire at me. We dropped three flares to light the
area. Hardly had my navigator, Tatyana Sumarokova, dropped half of
the bombs when four antiaircraft guns burst out firing at us in rapid
succession. These were Oerlekon tracer missiles. All of the tracers
hit the aileron wires, and I lost control of the ailerons. The tracers
also hit the bomb wires under the left wing, and we couldn't drop those bombs. The most urgent
the enemy troops.
Usually, on my way to a target when the searchlights were off, I
tried to approach and hit the target before they knew my aircraft was
there. I would idle the engine and glide over the target noiselessly. But
when a searchlight lit up and caught me in its web other searchlights
also lit up, and I would find myself in their cross of lights. To escape
the searchlights, I idled the engine and sideslipped down into the
darkness. Even though it was a slip into pitch darkness, I could always determine the angle in relation to the ground. I never used flares
to clarify where I was; I was never disoriented because the searchlight
mirrors and the ground itself were my orientation. No matter how
blinded I was by the lights, I had to think and act quickly to level out
the aircraft. The next moment the enemy was fiercely trying to locate
my plane again, combing through space.
On this flight the antiaircraft guns were silent. I sensed something
very uncommon about that and then thought of the only reason for
the silence-German fighter aircraft! We had not been attacked in
this way before; we had not developed tactics to counter the attack of
fighter planes. I had considerable experience in combat and maneu vered to escape the searchlights, for to escape the searchlights was to
escape the fighter. But behind me flew young, inexperienced crewsreinforcements who did not escape. Four of the aircraft following me
were shot down. The tracer bullets set their planes on fire; our planes
were so vulnerable they were burning like sheets of paper. We were
not equipped with parachutes at that time, so eight girls burned in the
air. One was Irina Kashirina, who had landed the aircraft with the
dead pilot. It is a horrible scene when a plane is burning. First it
explodes; then it burns like a torch falling apart, and you can see
particles of fuselage, wings, tail, and human bodies scattered in the
air. The other crews who were in the air at that moment witnessed
that tragedy. I saw it with my own eyes as I returned from the
mission.
In the morning, when we realized that the girls had perished and
we would never see their smiling faces, never hear their voices, horror
seized us. We didn't sleep that day and the next night fulfilled our
combat missions without a wink of sleep. The everyday ration of
vodka in the army was 200 grams, and we were daily allowed 200
grams of dry wine. But the regimental commander forbade us to
drink, and we gave our word of honor not to break her order. Even
after that tragedy we kept our word.
Our airdrome was occasionally attacked from the air. In the Crimea
our field was bombed by a group of fascist fighters at dawn, when we
were in the field mess eating breakfast. We were at a new location,
and the logistics battalion hadn't yet camouflaged the airfield and
planes. We rushed from the mess to our planes, which were dispersed
on the field, and we flew off in all directions in order to save the
aircraft. I must confess that when I am telling you all these stories, I
am shivering as if going through hell over and over again. If I talk
about my war experiences, I cannot sleep afterwards, so much is my
agitation.
In the Taman area I was assigned to bomb a column of enemy
trucks and weapons moving along the road. The night was moonlit,
and this was not in our favor. The altitude was low, and the silhouette
of the aircraft was clearly discernible to the Germans, but for awhile
they masked and didn't fire at me. We dropped three flares to light the
area. Hardly had my navigator, Tatyana Sumarokova, dropped half of
the bombs when four antiaircraft guns burst out firing at us in rapid
succession. These were Oerlekon tracer missiles. All of the tracers
hit the aileron wires, and I lost control of the ailerons. The tracers
also hit the bomb wires under the left wing, and we couldn't drop those bombs. The most urgent
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