CHAPTER THIRTEEN Khrushchev

Sunday, October 14, 1962

Petsamo, Georgia, near the Black Sea

“Some more of this. It is exceptionally tasty today.”

The servant moved quickly, Khrushchev’s bowl filled again with the thick lumpy liquid. It was his favorite dish, one that he insisted be enjoyed by even his guests, whether or not they seemed to share his affection for kulesh.

Across from him, Malinovsky probed the stew with his fork, obvious hesitation, said, “Tell me again how you make this?”

Khrushchev happily obliged him.

“Pork fat and millet. Mixed together carefully so neither one takes over. Much like how I handle the government. Is it not to your liking?”

Malinovsky had been through this before, seemed always to err on the side of politeness.

“Alas, not today. My stomach is a bit foul.”

Khrushchev didn’t care if Malinovsky was making excuses.

“Then have a steak. We will prepare one for you immediately.” Khrushchev clapped his hands, the servant appearing. “Have the chef fix up a nice tenderloin for Comrade Malinovsky. He does not share my love for the simpler treats.”

Malinovsky seemed to know when protest was futile. He smiled, said, “Yes, that would be fine. Thank you.”

Khrushchev stuffed a forkful of the gooey liquid in his mouth, wiped clumsily with a cloth napkin, said, “What time is it?”

Malinovsky said, “Near two. Are you nervous?”

“Of course I’m nervous. We don’t launch satellites every day, and we certainly do not launch ones with eyes. This will cancel out some of the advantages the Americans have with their U-2 planes.”

The steak appeared, Malinovsky not objecting to the red juice filling the plate, the steak obviously too rare.

“Yes, this is fine, thank you. So, Nikita, they will call you when the launch is complete?”

“They know I am expecting to hear. I want to know we have success, and I want to know when the cameras begin to work. This is no longer sport, eh? The Americans believe they are superior to us in every way, especially technology. Now, we shall see about that.”


THE MISSILE LIFTED off at a top-secret installation in Tyuratam, far out in a remote area of Kazakhstan. Officially, the missile was designated Kosmos X, and carried the Soviets’ most advanced means of photographing ground installations. It had a low orbit, barely 120 miles above the surface, and was designed to skim over key areas of the North American continent, then return to Earth in a few days, where the film would be developed.

The launch and the flight were completely successful, and completely fruitful. With a flight path that carried the satellite over Florida, they were able to confirm the reports they had been hearing from spies on the ground. Among the many images from Kosmos X were convoys of troops, dark green trucks in long columns, carrying what could only be American military forces southward, presumably toward bases such as Tampa or Key West. Though Khrushchev would not let himself believe the Americans had any knowledge of the missiles now being planted in Cuba, the buildup seemed to indicate another problem, both for the Russians and Castro himself. The only purpose for such a mobilization, in Khrushchev’s mind, was that the Americans were indeed preparing for an invasion of Cuba.

Thursday, October 18, 1962

Moscow, the Kremlin

The members of the Presidium all watched him, some of them learning only now about the latest spy satellite. Khrushchev adjusted his glasses, read from a notepad.

“I have studied the photographs. They confirm that the Americans are moving great numbers of men and equipment southward, to bases in Florida, and even into the Caribbean. The Americans have claimed that they have already made announcements, which we are to accept at face value, that this movement is for training exercises, primarily involving the United States Navy and Marines. According to our men on the ground, there are already paratroop drops taking place in the country of Honduras, designed to convince us, and the world, that this is little more than an exercise. Our satellite photographed a squadron of American jets on the ground at a base in Key West, a short flight time to Havana. It stretches the imagination that the Americans wish us to accept that all of this activity is strictly for fun. We have notified Castro what the Americans are doing, and what we believe may follow. I am astounded at the arrogance, that Kennedy would assume us so complacent we would not defend our ally. Even now, the Americans are strengthening their troop positions at a number of bases across the southern areas of their country. A considerable armada of their navy ships have been observed sailing southward, presumably to support whatever their plan might be. We are not yet prepared to counter the American gambit by announcing our placing of nuclear weapons in Cuba. I will not reveal our secrets to the Americans just yet. We are holding to our timetable, to announce the installation of the missiles, after the American election next month, once the bases become fully operational.”

He paused, scanned the faces, saw approving nods, and unlike as so often happened, no one was distracted or dozing off. He was in no mood for politeness, pounded one fist on the rostrum.

“Comrades, we will not accept this provocative move by the Americans without a sharp acknowledgment of our own. I have ordered that an article appear in tomorrow’s Izvestia, which will certainly reach the American newspapers within a few hours, that any attack on the island of Cuba by any foreign power, will prompt us to immediate and severe action. Simply put, it would mean war.”