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Subject: {ASSM} (Rewritten and Serialised) Butterfly and Falcon (Part 32) By Katzmarek (Hist, rom,Mf,MF)
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 Part 32

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<1st attachment, "Butterfly and Falcon32.txt" begin>

BUTTERFLY AND FALCON (Part 32)

   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.

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

   Pavel Rodel was going to take his punishment like a man.  Not for him
would he cast his eyes downward or go on his knees and beg.  In Siberia,
one looked one's protagonist in the eye.  There, men resolved disputes with
a fist fight.  That was the proper way, but he was now an Officer in the
army and such things were unbecoming.  He still longed for the old way,
however, because there were few men who could best him in a fair fight.

   The fact that Benin's 'husband' was a Lieutenant-Colonel had come as an
unpleasant shock to him.  Benin had introduced him when he arrived from
Moscow, a man that was at least as tall as him, although slimmer, but with
gold on his epaulettes.  Man against man, that would make little
difference, but in the army it meant the labour camp or worse.

   Not that he regretted for one minute the things he'd done with Benin. 
He would miss her when he was sent into exile.  Maybe she'd leave her
husband and follow him?  It was a fantasy, he knew, but one that appealed
to him.  He knew he could make a decent life for them both in Siberia.

   He sat at his desk miserably, turning his pen over and over in his hand.
Too bad they couldn't settle this as men, he thought.

   If Pavel was beating himself up with a volatile blend of infatuation,
fear and guilt, he was the last person on the minds of Benin and John as
they reunited after so many months away from one another.

   But John, too, was shamefaced.  Benin knew from the moment she saw him
that there was something important on his mind.  That something, she was
sure, involved Jana Ivanova.  She could sense it, smell it, taste it on
him.

   Pavel had given her the afternoon off and they'd fled in a military car
he'd acquired to the Pravda Hotel.  Although he'd hadn't permission to stay
at the Hotel, normally reserved for Party Officials, John had talked
himself around the manager and had been offered a room on the 2nd floor.

   The Pravda itself had lost part of its roof.  A bomb had landed in the
courtyard at the back and had blown down part of the wall.  Their old room
now looked out into space and snow was piled up inside it.  The other side
of the building was untouched and the damaged part boarded up.  As such,
life went on as normal.

   Apart, of course, for the snipers posted on the top floor, the 12.7mm
machine-gun on the roof, and the bevy of Air Force personnel attached to an
air observation post in the ruins of the attic.

   Within 5 minutes of falling through the door they were in bed, naked,
and making love.  John was more attentative than Benin remembered, perhaps
more proof that there was something he was ashamed of.  If it was mere
infidelity, Benin thought, then he needn't worry.  She knew he'd been with
Jana and, in any case, she hadn't exactly been the model of a faithful wife
herself.

   "I've some news," he said at last.  He still held her in the afterglow
of sex.  His dick lay soft nestled between Benin's legs.  She still felt
stung and alive from his frantic kissing of her body.

   "Yes?" she asked, nervously.  The only thing she could think of was that
he'd decided to leave her.  Nothing else, she thought, could be as grave a
news as that.

   "Jana...  she..."

   "Go on," she urged.

   "Jana's pregnant!" He told her hastily.  Perhaps he expected a slap on
the face or a knee in his vulnerable groin?  Secretly he shifted his legs
together and turned them away from her.

   "Yours?" she asked, even though she knew the answer.  He nodded. 
"What's she going to do?"

   "Keep it, I think," he replied.

   "Good," she said, "and what have you decided to do?" He shrugged. 
"Are...  are you going to go to her?"

   "I...  I don't think she wants me to," he told her.  Benin sighed
inwardly.  Her worst fears weren't going to be realised, he was going to
remain hers for the time being.

   "Why not?" she asked, curious.

   "She doesn't want to live with anyone," he told her, "she likes it by
herself."

   "With you looking in from time to time?" she smiled.  He grinned,
embarrassed.  "And you will, won't you?" Benin continued.  He, again,
nodded.  This, Benin thought, was the first time since he'd met Jana
Ivanova that he was being completely honest with her.  Such moments needed
to be cherished, expanded.  "John...  are you in love with her?" Again, he
nodded.  Sucking in her breath in apprehension, she asked, "and, given the
choice, who would you rather be with, Jana or me?"

   "Both!" His reply was instantaneous, unrehearsed.  It was clearly
something he'd been thinking about.

   "Both of us?" she laughed, "as in 'John's harem?' You imagine all of us
together in a small apartment with kids running around our feet?"

   "Sure," he replied, "a dream, perhaps, a fantasy.  But really, why not?"

   "Why not?" she laughed, "I'll tell you why not.  The authorities would
have a fit, that's why not.  And besides, how would you convince Jana, who
likes living by herself, to move in with us?  Have you figured that one
out?" No, of course he hadn't.  John was clutching at straws, he knew.  He
was trying to figure out some way he could have his cake and eat it too.

   "There's another thing," he said, nervously.

   "Go on!"

   "Jana...  she, well.  Benin, you know you once told me about that Bishop
of somewhere.  That guy you and your friend put on..."

   "Put on a little sex play?" she said, "so the arsehole could get his
jollies watching us?  What are you trying to suggest, John, you want me to
make love to Jana so you can watch and..."

   "Not watch!"

   "Then join in?  You want to be the filling in some girl sandwich?" she
roared with laughter, "John, you pervert!"

   "No!" he said, "not for me at any rate!"

   "Ah!" the penny finally dropped, "are you trying to tell me in your
round about way that your Jana likes girls?" John nodded, "and you're
suggesting that maybe I might satisfy that side of her?"

   "Sure," he agreed, "it's not as if you've never..."

   "You're a smug piece of work," she said through her laughter, "you
manipulative son of a bitch.  What, you're pimping for her now?  And all
because you can't make up your mind who you want."

   "I want you both.  Why do I have to make a choice?  I love both of you,
differently, but equally.  I know you two would hit it off."

   "How do you know?" she asked, "because you're fucking her are you
telling me that I must want to fuck her as well?  How conceited is that?"

   "She wants you, I know she does," he told her.

   "Does she now?" Benin asked, intrigued, "and how would she know?  She's
never laid eyes on me."

   "I've told her about you."

   "Oh really!" she grabbed him by the penis, "and what did you tell her?
Be careful, now?"

   "Um, that your cute...  and..."

   "And?" she squeezed, smiling like a cat.

   "And...  that you have a gentle touch."

   "Really, that can change!" she squeezed him harder.

   "I've, ah, told her about, how you look...  about...  ah...  your body."

   "And what about my body?" she asked him, still clutching his stiffening
prick.

   "How you have a cute arse.  How your skin glistens when making love. 
About your pretty face and brown eyes.  She told me she could picture you.
She described how she would touch you...  how her tongue was softer than a
man's and would...  um..." Benin had grown quiet.  She listened to him
intensely.  A picture did grow in her mind of Jana Ivanova, the girl in
that old photo, with her long legs spread, her white, soft skin, and that
classic Nordic face twisted up in pleasure.  'Maybe,' she thought, 'John
did have a point after all.' But damned if she was going to make his
twisted scheme easy for him.

   In the meantime, though, he'd grown hard and ready.  She pushed him onto
his back and sat astride him.  Gently, she took him by the cock and worked
it towards her moist pussy.

   As she rose and fell on top of him, she thought about telling him about
her episodes with Pavel Rodel.  After all, he'd been more than open with
her.  But, did that accomodation apply to her little dalliance?  Maybe, she
thought, she might wait awhile before spilling the beans.

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

   On the 15th April 1943, Adolf Hitler put his signature to the 13 copies
of Operational Order 16.  There were 26 pages, not an unusually long set of
orders emanating from the Fuehrer.  On the opening page he named the new
operation 'Zitadelle' and it was the first German offensive action of the
year.

   After describing how the finest weapons, men and commanders would be
committed to this new attack, he went on; 'Objective of the offensive: by
means of a highly concentrated and savage attack vigourously conducted by
two armies, one from the area of Belgorod, the other from South of Orel, to
encircle the enemy forces situated in the region of Kursk and annihilate
them by concentric attacks.'

   Hitler's intitiative, actually it stemmed from Oberst-General Kurt
Zeitzler of OKH, suggested an earliest date of May 3rd, depending on
weather.  The great tank commander, Oberst-General Heinz Guderian, hated
the plan from the beginning.  It would squander the carefully husbanded
resources the Panzer Divisions had built up, for no good purpose.  He also
added that, the Panther tank, the PzKw V, that Hitler was placing so much
faith in, was still undergoing teething troubles.  He also pointed out that
tank losses, expected to be heavy, could not be replaced in 1943 and they
ought to be building up for the expected Allied attack in the West in 1944.
Hitler's response to Guderian's advice was to place the operation in the
hands of von Kluge and von Manstein.

   Since the Soviet offensives of last Winter, that saw the extinction of
von Paulus and the 6th Army in the Stalingrad 'pocket' and the destruction
of the Rumanians and the Italian 8th Army, the Germans had stabilised the
front line.  Some 'bulges,' called 'salients,' had been left in the line
and Hitler had allowed the armies to evacuate some of these to 'economise.'
Demy'ansk had been evacuated on the North West Front, and Vyazma, astride
the Kalinin and West Fronts.  But to the South of Moscow the frontline
described a huge reverse figure 'S.'

   From Kirov, the front bulged deep into Soviet territory around Orel.  It
then reversed course around Kursk to meet up at Belgorod before meandering
down to Taganrog on the Sea of Azov.

   In all, 'Zitadelle' involved 41 German Divisions including 18 Panzer and
Panzergrenadier Divisions.  Von Manstein had 1081 tanks and 376 assault
guns at his disposal.

   Red Air Force bombers and reconnaissance aircraft had reported the
preparations to General Vatutin of the Voronezh Front.  Sensibly, Stalin,
who had been busy with the preparations for his own attack, decided to let
the Germans wear themselves out.  He therefore bolstered his defence line
along the front.  At the same time, he planned a counter-stroke of his own,
to be launched after the panzers had knocked themselves out against Kursk.

   In Lucerne, Roessler and the 'Red Trio' drew on his spy network inside
German General Headquarters, the OKW, codenamed 'Werther.' By July the 7th
the Russians knew every detail of the planned attack.  Detailed information
was also forthcoming from dozens of partisan groups working behind the
German lines.  There can be few battles where the advantage in intelligence
gathering lay so heavily on one side.  This time, however, Stalin paid
proper attention to what was being offered.

   Hard and fast figures for the the Red Army are hard to come by. 
Although little mention is made of the strength of the army defending Kursk
in the definitive Soviet work on the subject, 'The Great Patriotic War,'
some reasonable guesses can be made.  The Central and Voronezh Fronts were
composed of 75 Divisions, 3,600 tanks, 20,000 guns, howitzers and mortars,
6000 Anti-tank guns and 920 rocket launchers.  Thus the defensive potential
of the Red Army far exceeded the offensive potential of the Wehrmacht.

   Classically, a deserter from the German 'Sudeten' Division deserted to
the Russians on July 4th.  He gave them the exact start time for the
attack.

   The German 9th Army was making final preparations for its 'surprise'
attack when it had its 'jump off' points swamped by a gale of Soviet
shells. Seven Panzer Divisions had advanced only some ten kilometres into
the Russian lines when they were stopped short by infantry.  Their 90
'Elefant' assault guns didn't have machine guns and the Russian Assault
Pioneers of 13th Army swarmed all over them.  On the left flank, XXIII
Korps was stopped short of their objective and in all, the German 9th Army
got no further than 15 kilometres before they were halted for good.

   German Army Group 'South' did a little better.  Thanks to impeccable
co-ordination between tanks and aircraft, von Manstein drove 'Gruppe Kempf'
through two Soviet defence lines to lie at a point from which they could
intercept reinforcements bound for the Russian Voronezh Front.  24,000
prisoners had been taken and 100 tanks destroyed.  However, with 9th Army
held, the nippers of the pincer still remained 100 kilometres apart.

   Then came the Soviet counter-attack, initially North against Orel,
compelling 9th Army to withdraw, then gradually 5 Soviet Fronts went over
to the attack from the Sea of Azov to a point level with Moscow.

   Some evidence seems to support the notion that even Hitler had lost his
confidence before the attack.  There had been delays and delays, allowing
Stalin time to prepare.  But even the 'military genius' was beginning to
run short of ideas on how to regain the initiative in the East.

   A new front had opened up in Sicily and Italy was ready to chuck in the
sponge under General Badoglio.  American and British bomber formations were
striking at the Reich on an almost daily basis.  Although aircraft
production remained high, there was never enough time to properly train
pilots.  Consequently performance in the air was beginning to fall off.

   In the air the Luftwaffe had not only been outnumbered but also the Red
Air Force was beginning to display a qualitative advantage as well. 
Lavochkin La-5s appeared in some numbers now.  The new two seat version of
the Ilyushin Il-2, the Il-2-3m, came blasting out of the East with their
37mm tank-busting cannons.

   The Lavochkin was now being manufactured in its definitive model, the
La-5FN (Forsirovannyi Nyeposredstvenno, 'direct injection').  After
considerable teething troubles with the Russian copy of the Wright Cyclone
14 engine, not the least was its habit of shedding cylinders, Engineer
Arkadi Shvetsov reworked the design to produce the ASh-82, one of the best
piston aircraft engines produced by the Soviet Union.

   Despite claims by the West that the plane was 'crude' it featured
self-sealing fuel tanks using multi-layered resin and formaldehyde
products. Water vapour was extracted from the exhaust gasses through
intercoolers and filters.  The resultant gas was almost entirely CO2 and
Nitrogen and this was used to pressurise the fuel tanks and lines.  Thus
they acted as a fire supressant.

   Typically, in the Kursk battles, the Red Air Force flew mixed formations
of Il-2s and La-5s.  The Il-2 was a slug above 6000 metres and kept at
grass height.  After the La-5s had discharged their rockets they then flew
top cover for the shturmaviks.  At 6000m or below, the La-5FN could both
outfly and outshoot the Messerschmitt Bf-109 and Focke-Wulf Fw-190A. 
Soviet pilots simply drew the more sophisticated German fighters down to
where they had the advantage.

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

   Meanwhile, 'Oz' Callaghan and the rest of the British pilots had been
recalled.  They were to head North to Murmansk where a ship would take them
back to England.  A British fighter wing had been operating in the Northern
sector.  They'd found themselves reluctantly fighting the Finns, alongside
the MiG-3s and La-5s of the Russians.

   'Oz' was reluctant to go.  He hadn't reconciled with John over the
treatment of prisoners.  It seemed an unsatisfactory way to leave, but John
was away in Novgorod on furlough and couldn't be reached.  It was still
difficult travelling in the Soviet Union and it was unlikely he would get
permission to go to Novgorod, which was, in any case, on the front line. 
He left a letter for him with the Regiment's adjutant before joining the
rest of the British on their journey home.

   Perhaps, he thought, when the war was over John might be able to visit
Britain?  No doubt he'd have made General by then, he mused.

   The 400th had changed.  Many of the old faces had gone to be replaced
with fresh ones.  These new recruits included a young Ivan Kojedub, who
finished the war top Allied fighter ace with a score of 62 German aircraft.

   In February 1944 he was awarded the Gold Star of a Hero of the Soviet
Union.  On May the 2nd of that year he was presented with his special
La-5FN with the legend, 'In the name of the Hero of the Soviet Union Lt-Col
N Koniyev.' With this fighter he shot down 8 aircraft in 7 days including 5
Focke-Wulf Fw-190s.

   He later went on to become Vice-Commander of a Fighter Regiment of the
1st Byelorussian Front, flying his famous 'white 27' La-7.  He finished the
war by shooting down two Fw-190s on the same day, 19th April 1945.

   Second to Kojedub, and the only other airman to have received the gold
star three times, was Alexandr Pokryshkin.  He began combat flying in
MiG-3s in Summer 1941 going on to become Colonel of a Guards Fighter
Regiment.  From the MiG-3 he flew Lavochkins until converting to the Yak 9U
in late 1944.  His final score was 59.  He retired from the V-V.S a
Colonel-General in 1967.

   Third was Lt.A Alelyukhin who, again, flew from the outbreak of war.  He
was in the Odessa region in 1941 and went on to fly Lavochkins over
Kharkov, Stalingrad, Taganrog, Warsaw and Berlin.  With 40 personal kills
and 17 shared victories he was a twice holder of the gold star.

   The most famous of all Russian air aces was 'the Russian Bader,'
nicknamed after Douglas Bader, the legless, British ace.  He was Hero of
the Soviet Union Alexyei Myeresyev and, like Douglas Bader had lost his
legs in a flying accident before the war.  He flew Lavochkin fighters
throughout the war.

   Lavochkins were often 'presentation' aircraft.  Groups of citizens or
individuals would personally sponsor an aircraft and have their name
stencilled on the side.  Air ace V.I Popkov, score 41, flew a La-5FN
donated by the Moscow Jazz band 'Veselyie Rebyata,' 'Jolly Fellows.'
Another Moscow Jazz band, The Leonard Utyosov Jazz Orkestra, sponsored
another of Popkov's aircraft, which both survived the war to become museum
exhibits at Moscow-Kubinka.

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

   The black Zil limousine drew up outside the impressive new
administration block.  The driver quickly got out and smartly opened the
rear passenger door before standing to attention.  The passenger, a full 6
foot in height, struggled out and stood staring at the new premises.

   "So this is it, Gregory?" he said to his driver.

   "Yes, sir," the driver replied, "I think they're all waiting for you in
the conference room."

   "Shit!  Conference room?  During the war we were lucky to have a
cellar."

   A man in the green air force uniform of a Lieutenant opened the glass
door and clipped it back.  Another officer stood to attention saluting.

   General Khrinhov strode purposely up the steps to pass through the door.
The officers promptly closed the door behind them before falling into line
at the rear.  Ahead was another door and an official in civilian dress.

   "General," he said, "welcome to OKB Mikoyan-Gurevich."

   Artem Ivanovich Mikoyan was born in tbe Armenian village of Sanafin in
1905.  After moving to Rostov he entered the Airforce Academy in 1923.  He
was always interested in the air and built many aircraft in his yard with
his brother Anastas, who went on to become a member of the Soviet
Politburo.

   His design bureau was inaugurated in 1939, thanks in part to his
brother's patronage.  His first aircraft, the MiG-1 was a lemon.  His
second, the MiG-3, had its problems but was eventually buried when its
proposed engine, Dr Mikhulin's AM-35, was cancelled and replacements didn't
give it its promised performance.  It was an inauspicious start to one of
the World's great aircraft designers.  Mikoyan had a reputation for being
prickly and impatient.  He was also a good hater who could bear a grudge
for a long, long time.

   Mikoyan designed his first jet fighter in 1946, drawing heavily on
captured German research.  The MiG-9 had two Russian made BMW-003 turbojets
side by side in a 'through-duct' fusilage.  Although 1500 were made, it
handled like a pig, being unstable around its vertical axis.  The problem
was its short length and tail configuration coupled with the uneven running
of the BMWs.  This made the plane yaw unexpectedly into assymetrical
flight, which was next to impossible to bring back under control again.

   Oddly it was the British who came to the rescue of the MiG-9.  In 1946
they donated a Rolls-Royce 'Nene' axial-flow turbojet to the Russians.  It
was then state of the art and a Russian design team lead by Dr Klimov
reversed engineered it to produce the VK-1.  This they manufactured in
contravention of international patent laws.

   Mikoyan took a captured German Focke-Wulf Ta-183, spirited away in
secret when Red Army forces occupied Berlin, and reworked the design to
become Projekt I-310.  As its production variant, MiG-15, the resultant
fighter took the USAF by surprise in the Korean war.  They could've gained
supremacy over the North-American F-86 'Sabre,' too, if the North-Korean
and Chinese pilots had been as well-trained as the Americans.

   John had not spoken to Mikoyan since 1939, when John, as a test pilot,
had all but canned the MiG-3.  Mikoyan's star had been kept airborne by his
friends in the Politburo and Soviet bureaucracy, however, and his design
bureau, OKB-MiG, had expanded rapidly thanks to wartime projects.

   He was led to the double doors of the conference room.  Inside, a
coterie of OKB-MiG bigshots was waiting, mindful of the unresolved
animosity between John and the chief.  Artem Mikoyan himself sat at the
head of the table, shifting in his seat perceptably.  He had been compelled
to have this meeting and he didn't like it at all.

   A Lieutenant preceded him inside and announced the presence of the
General.  All inside stood respectfully, with Mikoyan the last to shuffle
to his feet.

   "Gentlemen," John acknowledged, "I hear you have something to show me?"

   "General," Mikoyan said, looking past John, "I presume you have a
'technical' expert with you?" The others squirmed at the obvious barb.

   "No need, Artem Ivanovich, I presume you have enough here for both of us
'amateurs'?" There was nervous chuckles from one or two around the table.
"In any case," John continued, "I've just come for a little preview."

   "You underestimate yourself, General," Mikoyan replied, "the word of an
air ace, such as yourself, is always listened to at the Kremlin."

   "Would that I had that much influence, Artem?  Ok, let's see the beast,"
he added, rubbing his hands together, "I can't wait!"

   ---------------------------------------
   KATZMAREK (C) 

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