Tuesday morning, October 23, 1962
Washington, DC
Bobby had slept in a small anteroom near his office, knew that after Jack’s speech the night before, Ethel wouldn’t ask for an explanation. The cot had been added for nights just like this one. But as Bobby struggled to make himself comfortable, he knew there had never been another night like this one.
He woke early, before seven, was drawn toward the window, the dawn creeping over Washington. It suddenly occurred to him what he was seeing: a city at rest, the first stirrings of a new day, perhaps a normal day. No, he thought, there is nothing normal these days. Perhaps we’ve changed the world, awakened a vicious giant, brought the threat of nuclear war front and center. It wasn’t just us, of course. We had to respond. There is one good thing, for certain. The city is still here. I’m still here. At least Khrushchev didn’t react like a madman, and launch his missiles. That’s a hopeful sign, that he knows we caught him with his pants down, and now he has to be a man about it, and accept what we’re telling him to do. Or, is that wishful thinking? Is it possible for a man in his position to back down, or will it cost him his power, maybe his life? How many madmen might there be in the Kremlin who are pushing him hard not to back down? And how many have their fingers poised on those buttons that launch Russian missiles who might not care for negotiation at all?
KENNEDY HAD ORDERED that the Excomm now meet daily at ten each morning, and Bobby was surprised to see the number of smiles around the room.
Kennedy led off, seemed full of energy.
“We have heard from all of our allies. There is complete support for what we’re doing. Right now, Rusk is speaking to the OAS, seeking their official approval. Fingers crossed on that one. I’m optimistic, since none of those countries have seemed to cozy up to Castro to any great extent. I suspect few will want to see him gain such a leg up over all of Latin America by having Soviet missiles in his front yard.”
Bobby knew that Jack’s optimism was overstated, that there was no predicting what the leaders of the Latin countries would do. And, as usual, Bobby had little faith in Rusk’s abilities as an effective diplomat, certainly not one to sway an opposing opinion.
To one side, Rusk’s undersecretary, George Ball said, “I would offer, Mr. President, a hopeful note from the secretary of state. He greeted me this morning with a smile, stating that we had already won a great victory. After all, we’re all still alive.” There was low laughter, and Ball continued, “We are hearing reports, particularly from the British, that there are already protests springing up. One British paper, the Daily Mail, headlined that what we’re doing is an act of war. There are similar protests from some of the other papers. And, there are protestors gathering outside our embassy in London.”
Bobby said, “We’ve always known that the British, the Germans, all the rest, have never taken our feelings about Castro seriously. They have to understand our feelings about having nuclear missiles on our doorstep.”
Bundy spoke now, setting aside a cup of coffee.
“There is one problem with that. Germany sits with Soviet missiles on her own doorstep. Western Europe isn’t that far from dozens of launch sites within Russia. I expected there would be some grousing about the severity of our reaction, since this is a shadow they’ve been living under for years. Some of their academics, their media people are going to blame us for overreacting.”
Kennedy said, “I’ve heard what I needed to hear from our allies. We can’t help that there are protesters. Nobody wants to hear that a nuclear holocaust is a possibility. But it’s naïve for anyone to think that if we had said nothing about Soviet missiles, the world would go merrily on its peaceful way.” He looked at Ball. “Rusk is speaking to the OAS right now?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hopefully, they’ll vote their approval as quickly as possible. Surely, they’ll recognize the importance. I won’t sign the declaration that officially launches the quarantine until I give them the opportunity to respond. Stevenson is speaking to the UN this afternoon, and I imagine that will be a testy affair. Based on Khrushchev’s response, I’m certain Ambassador Zorin will protest vehemently, and I’m sure the Cubans will have something to say. What’s the Cuban ambassador’s name?”
Ball said, “García Incháustequi.”
Kennedy stared at Ball for a long second. “You think Castro chose him just to annoy the rest of us trying to pronounce his name?”
More laughter now, and Bobby felt cautious, knew that good humor was contagious, but it certainly meant the men were hiding just how anxious they truly were.
McNamara spoke up now. “Mr. President, might I read the restrictions in the quarantine document, just so we’re all in agreement?”
Kennedy said, “Yes, by all means.”
“This is the list of those items that will be halted by our ships, and not allowed to pass. Surface-to-air missiles, bomber aircraft, bombs, air-to-surface rockets and guided missiles, warheads for any of the above weapons, mechanical or electronic equipment to support or operate the above items, and any other class of material hereafter designated by the secretary of defense. As you can see, we have purposely not included petroleum or petroleum products.”
Kennedy said, “Yes, that’s correct, I will reserve the right to add petroleum to the quarantine list should we feel it is necessary. I’ve been thinking about another potential problem. We are maintaining a substantial number of U-2 flights over Cuba still. We know they have the ground-to-air missiles, and so far, they’ve shown restraint in not targeting the U-2s. But now, that could change. How should we respond if one of our planes is shot down?”
McNamara said, “Take out the missile’s launch site. Bomb it immediately. Be very specific about it.”
The others nodded in agreement, and Bobby said, “Be very specific. We don’t want our response to trigger a wider attack, either from them, or from us. I’m concerned things could escalate and get out of hand pretty quick.”
McNamara said, “That isn’t too much of a concern, unless the Soviets start firing off missiles all over the island. Actually, I think they’d respect our restraint, and they might actually expect us to react against their launch site. By the way, we’ve received word from the U-2 flights that the Soviets are suddenly scrambling to camouflage their missile launchers.”
Bobby fought the urge to laugh, said, “Now?”
McNamara shrugged.
“Now.”
The door opened, McCone slipping in. He didn’t sit, waited for a break in the talk, said, “Mr. President, we have learned that there are a number of Soviet submarines making their way toward the quarantine zone. We must assume that the Soviets intend to protect their shipping against any kind of aggressive action on our part. In addition, there are an enormous number of encoded messages being transmitted to their ships at sea. We don’t know the substance of those messages, unfortunately.”
It was one more piece of the puzzle, just what the Russians were planning to do next. The room was silent for a long moment, then Bobby said, “Khrushchev’s response last night did indicate that he would order his ships to push straight through the quarantine. I thought that was bluster, but this could mean he’s serious.”
Kennedy said, “How far away are the nearest Soviet ships to our line?”
McNamara said, “The first ship should reach the line tomorrow. There are approximately twenty-five Soviet and Soviet supporting ships en route.”
The mood had changed completely now, the smiles gone. Ball said, “Sir, until you actually sign the proclamation for the quarantine, there really is no official line for us to observe.”
Kennedy said, “I know. But I won’t act until we receive something from the OAS.”
BY THREE THAT afternoon, the ministers of the Organization of American States had avoided their usual lengthy speeches and responded directly to Rusk’s plea. Rusk’s remarks had been firm and direct, and those who sat in attendance seemed to fully grasp the importance of just what they were being asked to do. To Rusk’s amazement, of the twenty nations represented, nineteen voted to support the actions of the United States. There was one abstention, Uruguay, only because their ambassador could not reach his superiors in his capital.
At the United Nations, Adlai Stevenson displayed a rarely seen energy, detailing the justifications and causes for the actions by his government. As a capstone to his remarks, Stevenson offered the Security Council a resolution, calling for the immediate dismantling and withdrawal of all offensive weapons from Cuba.
As expected, the Cubans reacted with passionate vitriol, their ambassador accusing the United States of plotting to overthrow the Cuban government, among other charges. The Soviet ambassador, Valerian Zorin spoke next, making much the same charge, claiming still that the American suggestion that the Soviets had placed offensive missiles in Cuba was simply a lie. Tellingly though, Zorin did not issue specific threats. If there was any hidden meaning to his restraint, it might have been the suggestion that Khrushchev had left the door open, ever so slightly, to some kind of negotiation. But negotiation seemed far away, both Kennedys understanding that Khrushchev was no doubt dealing with both hard-liners and soft peddlers in his own government. Bobby had been surprised by the hard line taken by the American military chiefs, and he had to assume that the Soviet military might be pressuring Khrushchev even more to respond to the quarantine by launching an immediate nuclear strike.
Tuesday evening, October 23, 1962
The White House
The men had gathered, some from the Excomm, a number of reporters, a semicircle in front of the president’s desk. The photographers were already snapping their pictures, no different from a hundred such gatherings, where the president signed into law some new bill or some kind of presidential decree.
Bobby stood back, on the far side of the gathering, watched as Jack’s secretary, Evelyn Lincoln, carried in a tray of pens. It was customary that Kennedy sign his name one letter and one pen at a time, providing souvenirs for those who watched. Kennedy looked at the tray, shook his head.
“No, not this time. Souvenirs aren’t appropriate right now.” He retrieved a pen from his own pocket, scanned the document, then placed his signature at the bottom. The pen returned to his breast pocket, and Kennedy said, “Forgive me, but this one, I’m going to keep.”
Bobby felt a strange rush, a nervous chill, watched as the cameramen snapped their prized photos. He knew what Jack knew, that there was no backing away. It was official. The quarantine would go into effect Wednesday morning, October 24, at 10 a.m.
Tuesday night, October 23, 1962
The White House, Cabinet Room
It was after supper, all the men present feeling the effects of a very long day. But McNamara had insisted, McCone as well, the Excomm now in their second meeting of the day.
Rusk seemed as exhausted as any of the others, too tired to crow about his enormous success at the OAS. But the OAS meeting was only part of his responsibilities.
“Sir, I’ve been on the line with our ambassadors in Senegal and Guinea. We have received assurances that those government do not wish to participate in any way in the conflict between the United States and the Soviet Union. Thus, they are declining to welcome any military flights from either country onto their territory.”
Kennedy was smiling, Bobby not sure why. Kennedy said, “In other words, no plane may land there, say, for example, to refuel.”
“That is correct, sir.”
McNamara slapped the table, said, “Outstanding. It was a real concern.”
Bobby said, “I’m not sure…”
McNamara interrupted.
“It had been suggested that the Soviets might attempt to import into Cuba additional nuclear warheads. Since they would not want to risk them being discovered on a ship, it was assumed by our people that they might attempt to fly warheads into Cuba on one of their big Ilyushins. Obviously, our quarantine does not extend into the skies. But to reach Cuba, they would need a refueling stop, presumably at either Dakar or Conakry.”
Rusk was beaming through tired eyes, a satisfied smile.
“And that is now unlikely. As I said, both governments have refused to allow their airports to be used for any kind of military flight.”
Bobby understood now, wondered why this had not been thought of sooner.
“So, whatever warheads the Soviets have now in Cuba are all they’re going to have. Somehow, I don’t take comfort in that thought.”
Kennedy said, “Neither do I. But we’ve started the ball rolling, and the next step will be for the Soviets to understand that we’re completely serious. They can respond by dismantling their missile launchers, or they can test us to see what we’ll do next.”
Bobby glanced around the room, saw the seriousness of the expressions.
“Or they can decide to solve their problems another way and obliterate New York. Or Washington.”
There was no response, each man inside himself, most with thoughts of family, all of them terrified of a world gone completely mad.
AS THE EXCOMM meeting wound down, the buoyant mood from that morning was gone, replaced by the reality that no one could predict just what Khrushchev was going to do next. With increasing urgency, Kennedy, rather than waiting for some official response from Moscow, chose to confront the issue directly, or at least, as directly as could be done in Washington. He sent Bobby to meet face-to-face with the Soviet ambassador, Anatoly Dobrynin.
Tuesday night, October 23, 1962
Soviet Embassy, Washington, DC
He was shocked by Dobrynin’s expression, none of the glad-handing cheerfulness from times before. The man seemed beaten down, dark eyes, lines on his face, no smile at all. He met Bobby with an extended hand, seemed almost apologetic, as though a meeting like this should never have been requested. They sat, facing each other, brief pleasantries, Dobrynin’s aide offering Bobby something to drink. His mind begged for a stiff Scotch, but this was no time for fog.
“No, thank you. I’m fine as is.”
Dobrynin signaled to the aide, and another man lurking behind, leave. They obeyed reluctantly, and it was clear to Bobby that Dobrynin was rarely alone in any meeting inside his own embassy.
But they were alone now, and he focused on Dobrynin, still expected the customary smile. It didn’t come. All right, he thought. Get to it.
“You are no doubt aware why I am here, Ambassador. For the past several weeks, we have been told that there are no offensive missiles in Cuba. One week ago we obtained incontrovertible evidence to the contrary. You told me directly that your country had placed no long-distance missiles in Cuba, and further, that you had no intention of doing so in the future.” He hesitated, did not want to call this man a liar to his face.
Dobrynin said, “You are correct. I told you precisely those things. I believe, in fact, that I gave you my word.”
Bobby was relieved, thought, no argument. Thank God.
“You must understand, Ambassador, that the president has taken a much less belligerent attitude toward the Soviet Union’s actions than others close to him would have preferred. But the president is aware that he has been deceived by you, which is a dangerous state of affairs for peace, especially between two countries who have the capability of annihilating the human race.”
“I must attempt to defend myself, Mr. Attorney General. It is important you understand … for our future relationship, that I only repeated to you what I was told by my premier. Even now, in the light of all that has happened, in the light of what you now have come to discover, I have not been told anything different by my government. Frankly speaking, I do not know about missiles in Cuba even at this moment. That is not a denial. I just want you to know the facts as they are told to me.”
Bobby weighed Dobrynin’s words, thought, is it possible they would keep their ambassador in the dark? But somehow … I believe him. It shows in his face.
Dobrynin cleared his throat, said, “I must ask you … why, when you had this information, did President Kennedy not reveal that fact to Foreign Minister Gromyko, in their meeting last Thursday?”
Bobby wondered if this would come up.
“I believe you that you were not informed about the missiles. I do not believe we can say the same for Gromyko. He had the same opportunity to be forthcoming, and instead, he chose to sing the same old song, protesting any claim that your arms in Cuba were anything but defensive. During the past week, the president has been deeply involved in meetings with a select group in our government, including the military, and when he met with Gromyko, there had not yet been a conclusion made as to what action we would take. It would have been premature to reveal what we knew at that time. However, the president was shocked that Gromyko continued to tell the same lies.”
Dobrynin looked down, seemed wounded by the comment.
“I understand.”
“Ambassador, we are following the progress of some two dozen Soviet ships en route to Cuba, certain to intersect our quarantine line. I must ask you if you know the intentions of those ships. Will they turn back, or is it Mr. Khrushchev’s intention to purposely cause a potentially violent confrontation?”
Dobrynin’s eyes grew wider, and he seemed to fight for words.
“I only know … the ship captains have been told nothing that would alter their course.”
“Then, sir, tomorrow should be an interesting day.”