At the base, he turned the film over to a Soviet technician to be developed and then got on the radio to call his own base. The Blackhawks had moved, temporarily, from Blackhawk Island to a secret base located closer to the Russian battlefront. Hendrickson answered the call. "Blackhawk, ve vorry about you ven you didn't get back. Are you all right? Over."

"I got shot down, Hendy, but I'm okay. I'll tell you all the whole story later. Right now, I'm at a Soviet Air Force base not too far from our target. Get the team here ASAP. The field here is too short for the P-80s, but this is more of a bomber job anyway. Bring the Marauders and load them with incendiaries. I'm going to turn you over to the radio operator and she'll give you the coordinates for the base. Over."

"She?" Hendy said, forgetting to add the "over" at the end of his transmission in his surprise.

"You'll see when you get here. Over." He chuckled as he handed the mike back to the radio operator.

"How long will it take them to get here?" Major Litvyak asked.

"About six hours. A couple to get the planes loaded and fueled and the rest flying."

"Then you should get some rest. You're still recovering from your crash," she said as they stepped outside the radio shack. The sun was rising, turning the sky infinite shades of gold and red. As if of one mind, they stopped to admire the view.

After a few minutes of silence, Blackhawk said, "It's funny, but I can't remember the last time I did this, took time to look at a sunrise, I mean. It seems like there is always something more important, or at least more urgent, demanding my attention. I think you are a good influence on me, Major."

"Call me Lilya, please. But I do understand. It is the burden of command. You have been doing it far longer than me, I think. Everyone knows how you swore vengeance against the Nazis after they invaded Poland in 1939 and they bombed the hospital where your brother and sister worked. After the Germans destroyed the Polish Air Force, you didn't go to Britain and join the RAF, like most of the surviving Polish pilots. You gathered your band of fliers and hunted down the Nazis who killed your family. That is the story that is told."

"I didn't have time for someone else's missions. I was driven by a burning need for revenge against my brother and sister's killers. But no matter how many Nazis I killed, it was never enough. Even when I finally found the officer who had led the bombing raid, and killed him in an aerial duel, it didn't quench the thirst for vengeance. I was ruthless against my enemies. I did such terrible things that just the mention of the name 'Blackhawk' was enough to frighten ordinary German soldiers. I am not proud of who I was then."

"But you are not that man, now. I can tell."

"It was my team. They joined me in the early days of the war. They were all refugees from the Nazis' invasions of their homelands, just as I was. I never meant to be a leader, but somehow it happened. I had a purpose and they followed me. And that changed me. I don't know when it happened, but at some point my drive for vengeance was replaced with a better purpose. Oh, I still fought the Nazis, but because they are evil and a threat to the freedom all men deserve, not because of my personal demons. It was my men's loyalty and friendship that made that change in me. They are my family, now, and I do my utmost everyday to deserve them."

He realized Lilya was looking at him with an unfamiliar intensity, her gray eyes wide and deep. She must have realized it, too, because she turned to look at the sunrise. After a moment, he spoke. "Your story is well known, too. You were a pilot at fourteen and a flight instructor before you turned twenty. You joined the Air Force as soon as Marina Raskova convinced them to form all-women units. You were such a good fighter pilot that they transferred you to a regular fighter unit, very unusual for a woman pilot, even in the Russian Air Force."

"Yes," Lilya said, with sadness in her voice. "I was already an ace, and many of the male pilots resented my success. But it was there that I met Aleksei Salomatin and we fell in love. Aleksei was also an ace and never felt threatened by me. It was he who persuaded the commander not to send me back to the women's regiment. I flew his wing position. We were engaged to be married when was killed."

She stopped speaking again. Afraid she was withdrawing, Blackhawk said, "You had twelve kills to your credit, and everyone called you the 'White Rose of Stalingrad' because you are fond of flowers and had painted them on the sides of your plane."

Lilya looked up at him and smiled slightly. "It was supposed to be lilies, those are my favorite flowers, but the artist made them look more like roses so that's the name that stuck."

Blackhawk hated the idea of the smile leaving her face, but they weren't finished. "Two months after Aleksei died, eight Me 109s jumped you. From what I've heard, it took all eight of them to shoot you down. You were missing in action and presumed killed."

"Aleksei's death changed me," Lilya said. "I had been a schoolgirl playing a dangerous game and then the war slapped me in the face with a loss too enormous to accept. I kept flying and even scored some more victories but it wasn't the same. When the Messerschmidt's got me, I crashed my plane and survived but I was badly injured. A farmer and his wife found my plane and took me in. I was unaware of who or where I was for nearly a year. When I returned, I wasn't much use for a long time, but I was too important as a propaganda symbol for High Command to let me fade away. They assigned me, the highest scoring woman ace, as the commander of the 46th, a unit comprised entirely of women. It was good propaganda for them and it was good for me. I had others to think about, responsibilities. I could not be the sad little girl any longer. So I grew up. I don't allow myself to think of them as family, because every night I send them out knowing some will not come back. I could not do that to sisters. But I care about every one of them and they are my purpose, to make sure as few die as possible."

"That is the hardest thing," Blackhawk said, "losing them. I've only lost two, so far, but their faces are always in my dreams." He was silent for a while. "Do you miss him, Aleksei?"

"Of course," Lilya said. "I will always love him. But it gets better with time. I remember the good times now, not the pain of the loss, most of the time."

"I've never been in love, like that. Before the war, I thought I had all the time in the world. Then I had no time at all."

"It's not a matter of having enough time," Lilya said, "it's finding the right time, and the right person." She took his hand in hers and he felt her warmth flow into him. "I hope that happens for you."

"I had given up hope, Lilya, but now I think maybe it's possible."

She smiled and the sunrise paled. "Perhaps. But for now you must get some rest. We have talked enough."

"Maybe you're right. I haven't talked like this to anyone, ever. I guess my brains are still a bit scrambled from the crash."

"Of course," Lilya said, "that must be it."

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