Exclusive Excerpt! NIGHT WITCHES
Today, I'm pleased to bring you a special excerpt from Night Witches, a new historical fiction novel from Kathryn Lasky.
Keep reading for the excerpt, and a giveaway just for you. And make sure you check out the other tour stops for reviews, interviews, and more!
By Kathryn Lasky
Published on March 28, 2017
Published by: Scholastic Press
Published by: Scholastic Press
Fifteen-year-old Valya knows what it feels like to fly. She's a pilot who's always felt more at home soaring through the sky than down on earth. But since the Germans surrounded Stalingrad, Valya's been forced to stay on the ground and watch her city crumble.
When her mother is killed during the siege, Valya is left with one burning desire: to join up with her older sister, a member of the famous and feared Night Witches -- a brigade of young female pilots.
Using all her wits, Valya manages to get past the German blockade and find the Night Witches' base . . . and that's when the REAL danger starts. The women have been assigned a critical mission. If they succeed, they'll inflict serious damage on the Nazis. If they fail, they'll face death . . . or even worse horrors.
Historical fiction master Lasky sheds light on the war's unsung heroes -- daredevil girls who took to the skies to fight for their country -- in an action-packed thrill ride that'll leave you electrified and breathless.
Excerpt!
“Noch’ ved’m,” I whisper to myself as I crouch in the rubble
of our apartment building and watch the searchlights scraping
the night, looking for those tiny planes, the U-2 trainers.
Tatyana and I had both learned to fly these light biplanes,
their four wings made of wood and canvas. Open cockpit. No
parachutes. In these fragile machines the women of the
588th Regiment harass the German Sixth Army. The
engines purr so softly that the Germans call them “sewing
machines.” But like small, sharp-beaked predatory birds,
they will keep up the harassment until the dawn.
The Germans set up the searchlights to defend their fuel
depots, ammunition dumps, ground troops, and support
vehicles—all tactical targets for our Russian army. But that
won’t stop the Noch’ ved’m, the Night Witches of the 588th
Regiment, who weave through the sweeping beams of light
in the loom of the Stalingrad night. The young women who
attack Hitler’s forces from the sky. My sister, Tatyana, is one
of them. I might have been too, if I had lied about my age.
2
But Mama wouldn’t let me lie. Although I’m only two years
younger than Tatyana, my family has always treated me like
I’m still a baby. They let Tatyana wear lipstick when she was
twelve. But somehow, I was still “too young” at twelve. As
for going downtown alone or with a friend, that wasn’t
allowed until this summer, and then the Germans came and
wrecked everything.
Suddenly, there were Nazi soldiers on every street corner.
They could stop you for no reason, and they loved to check
young, pretty girls for weapons or cigarettes. It was not simply
“frisking.” Groping would be a better word. But then the
heavy tanks rolled in, and the lewd glances of the soldiers
were replaced by sniper fire and heavy bombs. The shelling
has been constant ever since.
Mama is asleep now, beside me in this corner that we
fashioned into a sleeping place. What was our living room is
now strewn with bricks. One wall was blown out entirely two
days ago. Three remaining walls still stand at right angles
to one another. I stare at a calendar on one of the walls. How
can a calendar be left? The bookshelves next to the calendar
are in smithereens. Once, there were books all over our apartment,
but now there are only fragments of pages that blow
about like lost sheep scattered from their flock. For nearly
two days I have tried to gather up some of these pages. It is
a ridiculous task. If they aren’t torn, they are scorched. I cannot
imagine what I will do with them.
I spy another page, an illustration from The Wonderful
Wizard of Oz. Glinda, the Good Witch of the South. She
doesn’t have a broom. No U-2 aircraft either. The good witch
travels in a luminous peach-colored orb of light wearing a
flowing gown. Not like our Night Witches in their flight
helmets and goggles, with pistols tucked into their belts.
Instead of wands, they have 175 kilos of bombs tucked under
each wing.
As I bend over to retrieve the page with Glinda the Good
Witch, I see my sister’s broken sports trophies nearby. I
could never really equal my sister as an athlete, but my parents
didn’t want me to feel bad, so they made up a certificate
for me that read “Valya, you are the bright red star of our
hearts.” In a funny way, that certificate made it worse. I
remember Tatyana’s expression when they presented it to
me at dinner that night. As Papa was making his little
speech, there was a pitying smile on her face that said clear
as any words that I would never be her equal, never quite
catch up.
I love my sister, don’t get me wrong. But her concern for
me could be incredibly grating. Our biggest fight happened
during the junior track meet when she tried to show me
how she sailed over the hurdles. She had a particular way of
jackknifing her knees up so she never grazed the boards. It
worked for her, but not me. “It will,” she said. “When you get
a little bit taller. Maybe a centimeter.”
“That’s not the issue,” I snapped. I was tall for my age,
and already nearly her height. “It won’t work. I am not a
centimeter-smaller copy of you, no matter how badly everyone
wants me to be.”
In the next track meet, however, I did do well—very well.
But no one paid one bit of attention to me. Why? Because in
the event just before mine, the pole vault, Tatyana had broken
the long-standing girls’ record for our school. Hardly
anyone was there to witness my accomplishment. They were
all over on the field where the pole vaulting took place. My
best friend, Irina, was sitting in the bleachers practically all
by herself, clapping her hands violently and whooping her
lungs out.
Tatyana had always outshone me in everything—except
for flying.
My sister and I had both learned to fly by the time we
were twelve years old. Our father was head of the flight
training program at Engels airbase, not far from Stalingrad.
I’d flown Yak trainers, U-2s, and several others. It was not
that unusual, as flying clubs had become very popular
between the two wars. We were just very lucky to have a
father who was not only a seasoned pilot but a major in the
Russian air force renowned for his skillful instruction. Some
pilots are great flyers but not especially good teachers. Our
father was a great flyer and a great teacher.
Intrigued? Want to know more? You can find the whole first chapter here.
About the Author....
Kathryn Lasky is the American author of many critically acclaimed books, including several Dear America books, several Royal Diaries books, 1984 Newbery Honor winning Sugaring Time, The Night Journey, and the Guardians of Ga'Hoole series.
She was born June 24, 1944, and grew up in Indianapolis, Indiana, and is married to Christopher Knight, with whom she lives in Massachusetts.
Book 15, The War of the Ember, is currently the last book in the Ga'Hoole series. The Rise of a Legend is the 16th book but is a prequel to the series. Lasky has also written Guide Book To The Great Tree and Lost Tales Of Ga'Hoole which are companion books.
Giveaway!
3 winners will receive a finished copy of NIGHT
WITCHES, US Only.
Blog Tour Schedule
Week One:
Week Two:
3/27/2017- Quartzfeather- Review
3/28/2017- BookHounds YA- Guest
Post
3/30/2017- Bibliobibuli YA- Interview
