Tuesday, October 16, 1962
The White House, Cabinet Room
Bobby had gotten the call from his brother at nine that morning, the message terse and cryptic, that the country was facing a serious problem. Bobby wasted little time reaching the White House. There, others had been summoned, a lengthy list of those who, in official Washington, were the men Kennedy seemed most likely to trust. Included, naturally, were the secretaries of state, Dean Rusk, and defense, Robert McNamara. Undersecretaries were there as well, plus General Marshall Carter of the CIA, filling in for the absent John McCone. Kennedy’s national security advisor, McGeorge Bundy, was there, as was chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Maxwell Taylor, and the vice president, Lyndon Johnson. There were others, junior members of the most important offices that served the president, all men summoned because their advice and counsel could be trusted, whether or not the president agreed with what they might offer.
Kennedy had not been present at first, the reasons explained by the news that morning, a White House visit by astronaut Walter Schirra, the latest hero in the brotherhood of men who had launched the United States into manned space flight. Schirra had completed his space mission only a few days before, was already proving to be as popular in a folksy sort of way as some of the others, including John Glenn and Alan Shepherd. Schirra brought his family, a perfect photo opportunity for both him and the president, Kennedy seeking any kind of positive attention that might take the heat off the morbid business of politics that plagued the upcoming election. Their glad-handing meeting had been necessarily brief, both men pleased, but quickly, Kennedy had pulled back into the interior of the White House, away from the cameras and inquiring reporters.
At one end of the Cabinet Room stood a pair of uniformed officers, unfamiliar faces, warily at attention as the room filled. They flanked a large easel, covered in white paper, drawing the curious stares of the others as they entered the room. The senior men, Rusk and McNamara, along with the vice president, took their usual chairs, the others, including General Taylor, filling in the other spaces. As always, Bobby assumed his position to one side, standing, a surprise to no one. He glanced at his watch. It was 11:45 a.m.
Kennedy entered now, trailed by his daughter, Caroline. Bobby chuckled at the playfulness of the little girl, but the rest of the room kept silent, surprised by the unexpected visitor. Kennedy whispered to her, then offered the child a playful pat as she exited. He looked around the room, acknowledged the men he knew well, then said, “You men have been chosen by me for this particular duty. I value your opinions, and right now, we need some serious counsel. Secrecy is essential, as will be made clear. We cannot afford leaks. There will be no leaks.”
Men were nodding their heads, a reassuring gesture, no one missing the point that this was not a usual strategy session. Bobby glanced at the faces, eyes still drifting toward the easel at the end of the room.
Kennedy spoke to General Carter now, said, “Tell us what’s going on.”
“Thank you, Mr. President. My men will now distribute copies of what I will show you here. These are photographs taken 14 October from our U-2 flights over the island of Cuba.”
The cover came off the easel, the CIA men passing envelopes of photos to the men around the table. Bobby stepped closer to the easel, puzzled, and Carter seeming to read his audience, said, “Mr. President, gentlemen. What we are seeing here is a photograph of a Soviet missile-launching site near San Cristóbal, Cuba. The photo indicates missile launchers, and here … indications of the missiles themselves, covered in tarpaulins.”
Bobby studied one of the photos, stared closely, shook his head.
“I’m sorry. Can you be more specific? This looks like a construction site perhaps. It could be a football field.”
There were murmurs of agreement, something Carter seemed to expect.
“I assure you, what you are seeing here are works in progress, with construction of guided-missile launchpads. The trucks you see parked in formation are fuel-carrying vehicles, and there are a great many of them. Those elongated shapes you see clustered together are missiles, sheltered upon trailers. They are approximately eighty feet long. That is substantially larger than any of the surface-to-air missiles in the Soviet arsenal. There are additional missiles under cover, which appear to be somewhat shorter, likely short-range surface-to-surface missiles. There are motor pools, erector launches, and other vehicles used for transporting missiles, some of which have missiles on board. In this one complex, we have estimated there are sixteen to twenty-four missiles. This is one complex.”
Kennedy studied a photograph in his hands, said, “Can we determine if these missiles have nuclear warheads?”
“Not from these photos, sir. However, the eighty-foot length of these missiles identifies them as medium-range ballistic missiles. It is apparent that there is very little point in creating a missile base for such a ballistic missile, if you weren’t going to arm it with a warhead.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Since this site is still under construction, it is likely that nuclear warheads are being hidden … stored somewhere else, until the site is operational.”
“Do we know how long that will take?”
Carter paused.
“Not long. I would point out, sir, that this photograph contrasts with a photo of the same area taken at the end of August. The Soviets are moving very quickly. I would guess … this base could become operational in as little as two weeks.”
Kennedy, who held the photo in his hand still, said, “We will continue the U-2 flights, and focus on these bases, to monitor further progress. But I want daily flights. Every damn day. Your men have done exceptional work here, and I thank you, but we need to keep it up. Obviously, there is much for the rest of us to discuss. You are dismissed.”
The CIA men acknowledged Kennedy with formal nods, exited the room in single file.
Bobby felt the temperature rising, his own, the rest of the room’s. He stared at the easel still, tried to see what had been described, frustrated that he could only see a construction site. Kennedy said, “I have no doubt that what we’ve been told is accurate. These fellows are experts, the kind I trust to do their jobs.”
Rusk said, “Mr. President, I believe we must set into motion a chain of events that will, in the end, eliminate the launch sites altogether. The question of course is how, whether we do it by an unannounced sudden strike or whether we push hard on the other side to remove the sites on their own.”
General Taylor spoke now, his voice firm, unwavering.
“It is greatly important, Mr. President, that we strike with the benefit of surprise. Hit ’em without any warning whatsoever.”
Kennedy held up his hand, silencing the others, said, “What would be the reason they’d plant these missiles? Seeking an advantage?”
Taylor responded, “They’re certainly seeking the advantage of being able to launch their shorter-ranged missiles against the United States, as a supplement to their long-range ICBMs. We know they don’t possess much of a force of the long-range missiles. This clearly evens the odds for them.”
Rusk nodded, said, “I agree. However, the danger in taking immediate action is that it could provoke the Russians into making an aggressive move somewhere else. Berlin perhaps.”
Other comments came now, a soft jumble, no one speaking out loud. Kennedy said, “It is clear we have three options. One, strike these missile bases without warning. Two, strike the missiles as well as a broader targeting, airfields, and so on. Three, launch a blockade, surrounding the island to prevent any more ships coming and going.”
Bobby, stepping closer to the table, said, “Four. We can invade.”
The conversations began to flow now, men seeming to line up behind the options of an immediate military strike against the missile bases, versus a wait-and-see attitude. As the meeting was adjourned, Kennedy made it very clear that the existence of this group, now to be referred to as the Executive Committee of the National Security Council, or Excomm, was to be held in absolute secret. They would continue to meet as soon as that afternoon, with Kennedy taking more of a backseat, allowing the men to freely discuss their own ideas without the heavy hand of the president’s presence. Kennedy emphasized once more that no one, certainly no news reporter, was to have any inkling of the Excomm’s existence. At least not yet.
BOBBY MOVED IN step with his brother through the residence hallway, neither man speaking. Kennedy, stopping outside his own bedroom, now said, “I have a meeting scheduled with the crown prince of Libya. I can’t cancel. None of us can alter our set schedules, including you.”
Bobby rubbed his chin, said, “It doesn’t make sense, Jack. Why would Khrushchev do this? He knows we won’t stand for it, that he’s opening up a can of pretty nasty worms.”
“I’m not sure about that, Bobby. He thinks he’s tested me, that I won’t react. We have an election coming up, and everybody around here is walking on tiptoe, afraid to do anything that could cost them votes.”
“Then why all the secrecy, the speed of their construction?”
“That’s the point. He couldn’t announce that they were going to do this down the road, the whole world would scream at him. This way, if he completes their bases in secret, then announces it to the world as a done deal, the protests will be pretty hollow. Once the bases are established, up and running, all the bitching in the world won’t move them. Castro will crow long and loud about it too, and you can bet he won’t be intimidated into shutting them down. I can see the big day now, Castro and Khrushchev standing arm in arm, with a big goddamn missile in the background, announcing to the world how the Soviets are winning the arms race.”
Bobby leaned against a wall to one side.
“It’s possible that Khrushchev is just seeking leverage, that once he’s got his missile bases, he’ll use them to bargain with. He’ll pull them out, if we get out of Berlin.”
Kennedy shook his head.
“Doubt that. He’s going to far too much trouble, and too much expense, just to use this as a bargaining chip. The CIA was pretty clear what those missiles can do. Those medium-range things can hit most of the U.S. It’s why we have to figure this out in secret. It could panic the hell out of the American people if it gets out that missiles are aimed at downtown anywhere.”
“I wish I knew the right move … your new committee won’t agree on anything without a hell of a lot of debate. I think I know how Tojo felt when he planned Pearl Harbor. Little mistakes could become mighty big ones, mighty quick.”
“We need the debate, Bobby, the meetings of the minds. This is too big to simply be left to a snap decision. And, there’s more to this than a U.S.-Russia thing. The Latin countries look to us for leadership. If we allow the missiles to stay in Cuba, every damn member of the Organization of American States will question just how much their loyalty to us is worth. We preach all about our Monroe Doctrine, keeping foreigners out of our hemisphere. Well, like it or not, they’re here. How much resolve do we have to change that? Clearly Khrushchev believes we’re too timid to take any serious action. He wouldn’t just openly risk nuclear war.”
“Jesus, Jack. Are you sure? We don’t know what kind of pressure he’s under, what kind of hard-liners are in the Kremlin pushing him into making a first strike. They don’t have the ICBMs to do the job, but with his shorter-range stuff right off Miami … hell, that changes everything.”
Kennedy reached out a hand, put it on Bobby’s shoulder.
“That’s one thing we can agree on. The world has just changed. The question is … what do we do about it?”