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Subject: {ASSM} (Rewritten and Serialised) Butterfly and Falcon (Part 28) By Katzmarek (Hist, rom,Mf,MF)
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Date: Sat, 28 Jan 2006 03:10:01 -0500
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<1st attachment, "Butterfly and Falcon28.txt" begin>

BUTTERFLY AND FALCON (Part 28)

   By KATZMAREK (C)

   --------------------------------

   Author's note.

   This is a work of fiction based on fact.  Opinions and interpretations
of events expressed are my own and as such are entirely contestable.

   This remains my property and may not be used for gain without my express
permission in writing.

   ----------------------------------

   In May 1942, as far as can be ascertained by trolling through German and
Soviet sources, the defending Generals of Moscow, Zhukov, Timoshenko and
Konev, could call on 13 Soviet Armies, including over 2000 tanks, to defend
the capital.  If these figures are correct, and there's room for doubt, the
Red Army had total numerical superiority over the Germans in the Moscow
area.  The majority of the tanks were the then new, T34, which, together
with the German PzKw VI 'Panther,' were the best tanks of the war.

   By contrast, to the South, known to the Germans as the Kharkov front and
to the Russians as the Don, Red Army forces were spread thin.  Stalin,
backed by Voroshilov, believed the signs of a German build up in that area
was a feint designed to draw forces away from the vital Central and
Northern fronts.  He believed, too, that the Wehrmacht was spent, that it
had thrown its best dice, and was confident of a great victory in the
Spring.

   The Wehrmacht, though, *had* taken some heavy hits over the period
between June and December 1941.  The Winter, too, had sapped manpower and
equipment.  They'd failed to take their objectives, Moscow and Leningrad,
and the Blitzkrieg had turned into a slugging match, a war of attrition,
which even Hitler conceded they couldn't win.

   Well aware of the task before Moscow, and the mass of Soviet forces that
awaited the expected attack, Hitler's 'intuition' again came to the fore.
The Caucasus, where Russia received most of it oil supplies, could be cut
off by an advance from Rostov.  The Railway, so vital to Russia's war
effort, could be severed by an attack towards Voronezh and the Volga, an
essential supply line, could be removed from the table by the capture of
Stalingrad.

   Stalingrad, the city named after the Soviet leader, would be a huge
propaganda boost for the Nazi war affort.  The 'Great Crusade against
Bolshevism' was losing its appeal for some of Hitler's allies in Europe. 
Still obsessed with his 'Historical Role' in defeating the Slav, Hitler saw
himself leading a European coalition under the leadership of Nazi Germany.

   The Kharkov front had been reinforced by Rumanians, Hungarians and the
Italian 8th Army.  These troops had taken a hammering over the Winter due
to poor equipment and indifferent leadership.  The German Generals had
little confidence in them but they made up the numbers.  The attack was to
be spearheaded by the German Panzer Armies with their allies providing a
large portion of the infantry.

   The Kharkov front was to receive the assistance of Luftflotte IV with
its 4000 odd aircraft, including 600 fighters.  But Luftflotte IV also had
responsibility for the Central Front as well and would achieve its
dominance by diverting aircraft South.  Already, Hitler was starting to rob
Peter to pay Paul.

   Statistics on the Soviet side are unreliable.  Some 'revision' appears
to have taken place to account for Stalin's oversight in neglecting the
defence on the Don front.  The Red Army, though, was spread thinly and the
Red Air Force, although the Russians later grossly underestimated its
strength, had their airfields far too near the front line.  So great was
the loss of aircraft in the Don offensive that it set back the Red Air
Force rebuilding program a year.  It had been caught napping, just as in
June 1941, and had handed the Luftwaffe air superiority from the outset.

   -------------------------------------

   That morning Jana Ivanova lay thinking.  She still tingled from her
night of love making with John.  The man himself lay beside her, naked as
she, and mumbling in his sleep.

   Jana knew that soon Voroshilov will want to be flown back to Moscow. 
She felt keenly, however, that her place was right here, beside John,
flying with him and sleeping by his side.  She ran over all the things she
could do to persuade Voroshilov to re-assign her to the 400th.  Short of
promising to sleep with the Marshal, she had few practical ideas.

   Voroshilov's headquarters was nick-named the 'Monastery' because of the
strict moral climate the Marshal insisted upon.  Unlike some of her
postings, co-workers were banned from 'forming liaisons.' The Marshal
himself, unmarried as he was, lived like a monk.  It was said he refused to
take mistresses for fear he'd be betrayed by one of them.  It was an
understandable position in light of the 1938 purge of the Military by
Stalin and his NKVD head Beria.  Many top men had had their mistresses
forced to spill the beans on them.

   She'd never felt happier than when she was flying alongside John.  He
reminded her of a boy showing off in front of his friends.  She remembered,
back in Novgorod, how he used to fly so close to her that he almost touched
her wingtip and he'd flash her cheeky grins.  It was almost as if he was
saying, 'here I am.  Bet you can't do this!' It was so boyish, so immature
and unprofessional, but she knew he was in complete control all the time.
John Greenhaugh knew exactly what he was doing in the air at all times, of
that she was sure.

   His sheer joy at being in the air, his childlike cheek and impertinance,
his capacity to ignore instructions and standing orders if he saw fit, were
some of the things that attracted her.  Not to be ignored, though, was his
powerful sexual magnetism that had all the women who met him, of whatever
age, wanting to breed.  That he was largely unaware of it was, again, one
of the many things that drew her to him.

   Back at Kazan, she thought she'd have a chance of purging John from her
system.  His letters to her were sparse and devoid of real emotion.  He had
no idea how to write a love letter, she grinned to herself, but in other
ways he could surprise her.

   In bed they were sensational together, for instance.  He knew how to
play with her, build the tension between them to explosive point.  He could
tease her, aggravate her until she was ready plant her boot fair in his
sweet balls.  Then with a word he'd pull the rug out from underneath her,
leave her naked and vulnerable, her emotions uncovered and exposed for him.
She'd never revealed so much of herself to anyone before.  Russians didn't
do that, they were far too guarded in thought, deed and feeling.

   This went beyond the mere physically taking of one another.  It pushed
Jana to a different level, one she didn't know existed or had been afraid
to enter.

   Her body felt sticky.  Carefully she eased John's hand from over her
breast and gently rolled out of bed.  Nearby was a bucket and tap, rather a
luxury because she was sure the enlisted men had no such refinements.  She
padded over, fetched a cloth, and turned on the tap.  The water was
freezing and she gasped when it touched her skin.  She dabbed at the places
where John's semen had dried, around her pussy and over her stomach.  She
ducked her head under the water to wash her hair.  John really had splashed
her everywhere, she grinned to herself.

   Her body was soon shivering and her skin a mass of goosebumps.  She felt
his eyes on her and turned around.  Sure enough, John was wide awake and
staring.

   Jana stared back, aware that, with her wet and hanging below her
shoulders, her bare skin running with rivulets, and her nipples stiff and
prominent from the sudden shock of the cold, she appeared mouth-wateringly
sexy to him.  She dabbed the cloth over her body, delighting in the sexual
power she had over him.  He was dry-mouthed and hungry for her and it
turned her on.

   Slowly he pulled back the covers until her lay naked for her, on his
side like some artist's model.  He grabbed his erect cock in his hand, as
if showing her how clever he was.  He knew the effect he had on her.  He
knew she liked that.

   "You...  ah...  must be dirty," she told him, the words almost choking
in her throat.  "Here!  You...  ah...  want to wash?" she suggested,
proferring the cloth.  He nodded and she moved over to the bed carrying the
bucket of water.

   Kneeling beside him she dabbed at his face.  He reached up ith his hands
and tried to pull her down.  After a brief struggle she relented and
allowed him to kiss her.

   Jana washed his chest, marvelling at his well-muscled torso honed by
wrestling with unmanageable aircraft.  John played with her breasts and,
after a brief decent period of reluctance, she ley him carry on.  Not that
she was averse at him touching her, but this was her game and she wanted it
to last.  Too often she'd given in and handed control to him.

   She shuffled down to his stomach.  He still held his cock in his fist,
aware of his machismo, aware of his power and daring her to succumb.  He
lifted his hand and cupped her sex, brushing the damp hair and seeking out
her pussy.  She wriggled as he probed her with his finger.  Smiling, she
removed his hand and continued to wash him.

   Jana tried to ignore the great stiff thing staring her in the face. 
Instead, she concentrated on his thighs and down his leg.  Only after what
seemed like an excrutiatingly long time, did she deign to pay attention to
his balls.  He rolled onto his back and she climbed over him, straddling
his legs.  John released his dick so she could wash it.

   He jerked as she squeezed the cold water on it.  It didn't shrink,
though, not one iota.  She hefted it in her hand, playing with it.  Again
he tried to pull her down onto him.  She resisted and, instead, bent and
licked his chest.

   Her tongue trailed up towards his neck.  He put his hands around her,
tunning his fingertips along her spine.  Her stiff nipples grazed his
chest, her pussy hair tickled his balls.

   "You have a sister?" he asked.

   "No.  Why?"

   "I have a friend..."

   "This friend as delicious as you?" she asked.

   "Don't know," he replied, "I...  ah...  don't have a woman's
appreciation."

   "You want me to sleep with the Squadron Leader?" she teased.

   "No!  Would you?"

   "Depends if it's an order, Lieutenant Colonel!"

   "Stop calling me that!" he chided, playfully.

   "I'm only a Major," she continued, "you are the superior...  I follow
your commands."

   "Does it bother you?" he asked, suddenly serious.

   "Not really," she told him, unconvincingly, "it is luck, no more.  I
have done at least as much as you.  But then, I am a woman."

   "I didn't think that was supposed to make any difference in the USSR?"

   "That's because you are a man."

   "Sorry about that."

   "Don't be...  I'm not.  A woman has an altogether different taste." She
lapped his stomach as if to emphasise the point.

   "How would you know?  Licked any women lately?"

   "Not lately, no." She grinned cryptically.

   "Then when?" he asked, suddenly intrigued.

   Ah ha!  You want to know if I've slept with any women?  You know I never
discuss lovers."

   "Can't you break the rule...  for me?"

   She laughed and ran her fingers over his dick.  It had grown hard again,
having softened with the conversation.  "You like dirty talk?" He nodded
expectantly.  "Of course you do," she giggled again, "this proves it," she
said holding up his cock.  "Well, Lieutenant Colonel, there was a time,
when I was young, when I didn't like men so much.  Actually, I don't think
I liked men at all until I met you.  You're different."

   "So you used to sleep with women?"

   "Not always.  You know, I never tell anyone about my private life."

   "Sure, but you asked me about Benin, last night.  You got me to
describe..."

   "Yes, I did, didn't I?" she blushed at the recollection, "it excited me
to think...  to picture you in bed with her.  To hear of the things she
does for you...  and what you do to her."

   "Is that because you...  get turned on...  by girls?"

   "Maybe!" she considered, "I never thought of it.  I just liked to hear
of you...  fucking her, but.  Maybe I think you're right.  Perhaps it
turned me on when you described how she looked to you...  how her tongue
made you sexy.  Yes, I would like her to do that to me.  You must not say
anything."

   "Of course not."

   "So, are women's tongues different?"

   "Yes, I think so.  And they touch you differently...  are softer.  I
like the power of a man," she sucked in her breath as John touched her
pussy with his fingers, "um...  but I like the tenderness...  uh...  of a
woman."

   "Perhaps...  we could all...  um..."

   "You think maybe Benin, you and me?" she said in surprise, "you think
she would?"

   "Dunno," he replied, "I know she's had women before."

   "Really?  But then she was an Anarchist.  She would've had different
rules."

   "Exactly!  She opened my eyes.  I never thought two women would..."

   "She showed you how to touch...  ah...  too, I see!  You maybe lick
too?" In response, John pulled her down and tongued her nipples.  She
craddled his head and gyrated herself over his stomach.  John's hands came
around her bottom and stroked her.  Jana grabbed his dick and ran her thumb
over the tip.  "Take me, baby," she gasped.

   John rolled her over onto her back.  Her legs sprang open and John
presented his tip at her entrance.  "Tell me," he whispered, "what do you
do to a woman?"

   "No games...  uh...  John.  Just put it in!" She was panting and ready,
her hair spread over the pillow and her pretty chest rising and falling in
anticipation.  John, however, continued to tease her, rubbing his dick over
her clitoris until she thrust back at him with her pelvis.

   "C'mon," he urged.

   "Baby...  I.  I used to have...  oh...  girlfriend...  at academy."

   "Yes," John said, prodding her.

   "Darling, I, uh...  all right!" she said, desperately, "I'll tell you.
It was at the academy," she began, "she was a grade higher, maybe 15?  I
was young and na�ve, you understand?"

   "Sure," John said, pushing slowly into her, "go on!"

   "Anastasia...  uh...  she was called Anastasia, oh!  Baby, I'm so horny,
please love me?"

   "You have to earn it," he told her, smiling.

   "Ok," she said hurriedly, "she had nice breasts, you'd like them."

   "Nicer than yours?  I don't believe it."

   "I was 14...  they were smaller.  Oh...  baby, uh, like that!  She... 
she...  got into bed with me one night.  She said she loved me!"

   "So what did she do?"

   "John, this is hard...  oh!  Is not easy for me to tell...  so many
feelings!"

   "Take your time," he told her softly.

   "Well...  uh...  keep going, baby!  She...  she said I was beautiful...
she kissed me...  softly at first but later with more passion." Jana's
voice rose with her excitement.  She spoke rapidly, as John slowly stroked
in and out of her.  "I didn't know what to do," she continued, "I was
excited...  she put her hand between my legs...  she rubbed me.  She said
it will make me feel good...  uh...  she was right!  Then...  oh baby, like
that...  then, uh, she put her hand in my panties...  her fingers...  she
pushed inside...  oh!"

   Jana held John's bottom and pulled him into her fatser and harder.  He
squeezed her breasts with his fingers until she wailed with pleasure.

   "Is that it?  Did she make you...  uh...  come?"

   "Oh yes...  baby...  loved it.  She was ...  good fuck!  Always... 
oh... made me come.  Like you...  uh...  uh...  I come when you touch... 
oh...  when you squeeze tits...  faster!"

   "Like this?"

   "Oh yes!  Love me...  fuck me!"

   "Maybe!" he told her and withdrew.  She looked at him with frustration.
"Over!" he commanded.  Jana turned over onto all fours.  John placed himelf
back into her vagina and pulled her back onto him by her arse.  "Go on!"

   "Nothing to tell.  I...  I...  did the same for her...  she showed me!"

   "How?"

   "Took my hand...  oh baby, faster...  put it down her pants.  Never felt
a girl's thing before...  besides mine!"

   "So!" he lunged triumphantly making her gasp in surprise and sensation,
"you'd played with your...ah...  self?"

   "Of course!  Why...  wouldn't I?  Oh, don't...  uh...  stop!"

   John pounded into her rapidly making her squeal and cry out.  He grunted
and Jana felt her vagina flood with the first stream of his hot semen.  It
took her higher still and she howled in triumph and release.  There
something she needed to remind John, she thought, something important.

   "John," she panted as he fell out of her, "you did it in me?" He nodded,
breathing heavily.  "I don't think...  that was a...  good idea."

   "Mmm?"

   ----------------------------------B----

   Some say they could hear the rumble of artillery from the streets of
Stalingrad.  But the front line was nearly 300 kilometres away.  The news
that reached Leninsk that day in May was low key, however.  It merely
reported air raids in the Rostov area and an exchange of gunfire.

   What wasn't clear to those well away from the fighting was the
systematic destruction of Red air defences along the Don Front.

   Later that morning, Army Group 'B' set out towards Stalingrad.  On the
left flank was the Rumanian 3rd Army.  On their right was the German 6th
Army backed by the Panzers of the 4th Panzerarmee.  On the Right flank was
the Rumanian 4th Army.  Therefore, and perhaps little understood, two
thirds of the infantry that set out to capture Stalingrad was Rumanian.

   Jana woke suddenly to the sound of the muster bells.  She emerged from
John's quarters to see the airfield in uproar.  An aircraft fitter ran past
and she commanded the man to stop and tell her what was happening.

   "Air raid, Major," the man told her, breathlessly.

   "Is there any spare aircraft?" she asked the man immediately.

   "Just the one, ma'am.  Sergeant Andropov's, he broke his leg..." His
voice was drowned out by the thundering of aero-engines being run up.

   "I said," she shouted, "Is it armed and fueled?" the man nodded his head
and beckoned her to follow.

   --------------------------------

   "Red Leader to all squadrons," John radioed, "leaders report...  you
there 'Oz'?" he added in English.

   "Blue leader on air," said his Russian squadron leader.

   "RAF here," said 'Oz,' "where're we going?"

   "'Pink Mare' calling.  Can I join?"

   "Jana?  What the fuck..."

   "Is that radio protocol?" she laughed.  Chuckles could be heard from
some of the others.

   "Well you're here, 'Pink Mare.' What the Hell kind of callsign is that?"

   "You should know!" she replied, to hoots of laughter from the squadrons.

   "Ok," said John, maintaining his composure, "Blue squadron, suggest you
buddy up, MiG to MiG, Yak to Yak.  La 5s should stick with me, no?"

   "Copy that, makes sense."

   "RAF, could you please station yourself to our eight, high?  Say 300
feet?"

   "Sure." 'Oz' knew what John was about.  They had to act as two separate
units due to the language factor.  But not too far apart that they couldn't
support each other.

   "'Pink Mare,' what are you flying?"

   "MiG 'Blue 9,' how do you want me?"

   "In one piece...  MiGs report?"

   "'Blue 6,' reporting."

   "Copy, 'Blue 6'.  'Blue 9,' stay on his tail!"

   "Copy, 'Red Leader'."

   "All squadrons!  Bogies reported 10 kilometres North of Kalach. 
Altitude, 7000 metres." John repeated the report in English for the
British's benefit.

   "How many?" asked 'Blue Leader.'

   "350, 400, according to the army."

   "What?"

   "Fuck!  " said 'Oz,' "where's the rest of us?  How many squadrons are
being vectored in?"

   "You're looking at them, 'Oz,' We *are* the fighter defence!"

   ----------------------------------

   KATZMAREK (C)










   

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