Blackhawk opened his eyes and saw a strikingly beautiful woman with long blonde hair leaning over him, a look of concern on her heart shaped face. He wasn't religious but he wondered, for a second, if he had died and she really was an angel. Then he saw that she wore an insulated flight suit with the insignia of a Major in the Soviet Air Force.

"Comrade Blackhawk, you are awake again. How do you feel?" Her voice was sweet and light, but it had an underlying tone of command, too.

"Like I crashed my plane into the ground. But okay, really. Where am I?"

"You are at the command post of the unit manning the section of the front where you crashed. The men who found you brought you back here. They and their commander recognized your insignia and knew who you are. You are a hero to all the defenders of the Rodina, Comrade Blackhawk. The commander decided that since you are a flier, you should be handed over to the Air Force. Mine is the closest Air Force unit, so he called me. I am Major Lidiya Vladimirovna Litvyak, commanding the 46th Guards Bomber Aviation Regiment."

"Of course, the White Rose of Stalingrad," Blackhawk said, using the nickname by which all of Russia knew Major Litvyak. "You're pretty famous yourself, Major. One of the highest ranked aces in the Soviet Air Force, and the highest ranked woman fighter pilot in any air force. You shot down five German planes in one day!"

Major Litvyak blushed. "I do my duty, but it is little compared to what you have done fighting the Nazis."

"Speaking of duty, Major, I guess we should stop patting each other on the back and get to it. Did the soldiers who rescued me bring the film canister from my plane back, too?"

"Yes, it's right here," she said, handing him the metal can from a table behind her. "Sergeant Skorikov thought that if it was important enough for you to nearly get killed for, it was important enough to bring back."

"He was right," Blackhawk said. "It could be very important to the war effort. Is there some place I can get the film developed, and I need to get in touch with my men."

"We can do both back at my base. Do you feel up to traveling?"

Blackhawk had already sat up while they were talking. He swung his feet off the bed and onto the floor. He pushed up and stood, swaying a bit, but only for a moment. "Okay, let's go."

He expected to be led to some sort of ground vehicle and the moonless night was so dark he didn't spot the small biplane until they were nearly up on it. It sat at the end of a relatively flat field near the C.P. Blackhawk recognized it as a Polikarpov Po-2, the plane the famous "Night Witches" used to make their nocturnal bombing raids against the Germans. "I thought you were a fighter pilot, Major? Isn't this the plane the Night Witches fly?"

"The Night Witches are the 46th, Comrade Blackhawk. When the unit formed, back in 1942, it was the 588th Night Bomber Regiment. It was honored in '43 by becoming the 46th Guards. When the 46th's previous commander, Major Bershanskaya, was killed on a mission, I was given command of the unit. I think the Air Force wanted to put me someplace safe after I was shot down the fourth time. That just shows how little they appreciate what my girls do. Flying our nightly raids is more dangerous than flying a YAK-1b in a dogfight with a German fighter."

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