Wednesday, April 18, 1962
Petsamo, Georgia, by the Black Sea
He rarely had time anymore to visit his vacation home, but this week, he had made the exception. The struggles were ongoing in Moscow, the various programs supposed to better the lives of the Russian people rarely living up to his expectations. He kept that mostly to himself of course. It was, after all, his responsibility, supervising the noisy press releases filled with positive news and rosy predictions, mostly about agricultural production, his own specialty. His home was along the fringes of the great breadbasket of the Soviet Union, an area that had become another disappointment for its lack of fulfilling those lofty expectations. He knew the Americans had offered their own assistance, and during his visits to the United States, Khrushchev had befriended a successful Iowa farmer, Roswell Garst, a man eager to offer American know-how in the cultivation of various crops, especially corn. At first, Khrushchev welcomed the assistance, the better equipment, chemicals, farming techniques. The Russians embraced American breakthroughs in fertilizer, in rotating crops, all those things so utterly American. But it wasn’t to be. Garst’s corn seed proved not suitable to the cooler Russian climate, a problem made worse by resistance from those bureaucrats who supervised the agricultural collectives, who resisted changing their old ways. Khrushchev’s own pride didn’t help, and despite his affection for the plainspoken American farmer, in the end, Khrushchev had to put his energies behind Russian efforts, celebrating Russian accomplishments and Russian results, whether or not they compared favorably to their American counterparts. It was one more difficulty Khrushchev faced when dealing with uniquely Russian sensibilities, the need for homegrown solutions to vexing problems that never quite seemed to work. For the militants in the Kremlin, it was one more example of the Americans lording their supposed superiority, their superior systems which only inspired greater hostility, as though the Americans were constantly preaching just how grandly superior they were. It was infuriating, but Khrushchev felt a different frustration from many of those in his government. Somewhere, buried deeply in his conscience, he knew that when it came to agriculture, for increasing yields and a heartier brand of foodstuffs, the Americans were right. It was something he could never admit, even to himself.
The waters were calm, a chill in the air still, and he walked slowly along the hard-packed sand alongside his old friend, Rodion Malinovsky, Russia’s defense minister. Malinovsky had a dacha of his own nearby, these morning walks something of a ritual when two busy men found time to take a breath. In a government where trust was a rare commodity, Khrushchev knew he could be completely open with his friend, the two with a long history, serving together in the Second World War, Malinovsky a genuine hero in holding off the German siege of Stalingrad. Then it was Stalin, who had suspicion enough for all, appointing Khrushchev to keep close to Malinovsky, testing his loyalty, even as Malinovsky was destroying German divisions. With Stalin now long gone, Khrushchev was far more open to friendships, tested by years of working together to rescue the Soviet Union from Stalin’s brutal abuses. To Khrushchev, it made much more sense to foster loyalty among those who served him in the government, encouraging loyalty through benevolence instead of terror, and inspiring a consensus of sorts as to policies, from agriculture to military. It wasn’t always a simple matter. There were some in the Presidium who saw his actions in Berlin as somehow backing down to the Western allies, that the Soviets should have taken an even stronger stand to rid Berlin of Western military forces. Khrushchev mostly ignored the harping, knew that a compromise was always the smarter move, though he bristled at criticism of his wall. In his mind, he had won that battle, even if Western troops remained in Berlin.
Opinions on other policies still varied, but Khrushchev held a firm grip, and he understood that the loyalty of men like Malinovsky would only help to keep him in power.
Malinovsky was only a few years younger than Khrushchev, showed his age, gray hair and a square jaw, showed his experience through worn features, a grim face that rarely changed expression.
Khrushchev bent low, picked up a small round rock, spun it out into the soft waves.
“Nina is preparing a lunch. She said to invite you and your wife.”
Malinovsky laughed, a rarity.
“Raisa is doing the same. I am to invite the two of you. Perhaps we may simply switch houses, and enjoy each other’s repast. However, your wish is my command.”
It was an unnecessary reminder of Khrushchev’s absolute authority, Khrushchev wincing at his friend’s constant awareness of who controlled who.
“We fool ourselves, Rodion, in believing that either of us are the authorities here. I for one have learned that when Nina summons me for anything, it is best just to obey.”
Malinovsky stopped, stretched his back.
“A lesson well learned.”
Malinovsky stared out across the open water, seemed lost in thought, and Khrushchev knew why. After a short moment, Malinovsky said, “They’re watching us, even now. They have technicians by the dozen, plotting their courses, fine-tuning their aim on our targets. Every day it is worse. I have no doubt, there are those in high places in the American government who see this as their grand opportunity.”
Khrushchev stared out as well, tried to lighten the man’s mood.
“I doubt they can see us from so many miles away. And surely, the Americans understand that firing missiles at us, even from so close as Turkey, would just invite us to do the same to them. No one hopes for a great war, my friend. You and I have seen what wars can do. Not even the most passionate imperialist among the Americans is so blind.”
Malinovsky looked at him now, still the grim expression.
“Are you so certain? Then explain to me why they must place their missiles so close to our borders, why they force us to stare down the barrels of their most dangerous weapons. And do not tell me we respond to them with the same strength. You and I both know they outpower us, outnumber us, their technology is better, their rocket engines are better, their warheads are more powerful…”
“Quiet, my friend. Even the surf has ears these days. The Americans might possess all these things, but they do not quite seem to understand just how superior they truly are. It is in our great interest to keep our inadequacies to ourselves. It is true they insist on preaching to us in the righteousness of their ways, as though they are so powerful they can dictate their will on all the world. But that only hides their insecurities. They have convinced themselves, at least to their public, that our weapons are just as numerous, and just as strong.” He laughed. “I make sure I reinforce that notion in every speech. Our May Day celebration this year will be even more grandiose than ever, great parades of marching troops, escorting enormous missiles end to end, side by side.”
“No matter if the warheads are filled with sawdust.”
Khrushchev didn’t want an argument, didn’t want his friend’s gloom to infect his joy at being in this place, his glorious seaside sanctuary.
“In time, Rodion. In time. Every day we are stronger, every day our scientists improve their thinking and their tools. And every day, I speak more loudly so the ears of the Americans will know it.”
Malinovsky didn’t move, still stared out across the open sea.
“Talk is all fine, Nikita. But there must be a more effective way to balance our concerns with theirs. There are too many among the military who believe the Americans are poised to make a first strike, that by having their missiles in Turkey, or Italy, they have an enormous advantage over us, no matter our bluster. Can we not do the same?”
“What do you mean?”
“We have a new ally, eager to become close to us, closer still.”
“Castro?”
“He has enough bluster for all of us, claims to be the new light of Latin America, that under his leadership all of the Latins will one day be united against the brutal imperialism of the Americans.”
Khrushchev laughed.
“Empty threats. He has a strong hold on his own country, and nothing else. Most of his neighbors fear him. Very few Latin countries seem ready to accept Communism, when their Big Brother America peers so closely over their shoulder. No, my friend, Fidel Castro is a master at the loud speech, passionate and verbose, furious emptiness. He has welcomed our friendship, and our financial assistance because he has nowhere else to turn. He fears the Americans far more than the glad-handed loyalty he offers us.”
“But still … we have an opening, Nikita. Since the American disaster at the Bay of Pigs, there is constant talk that they will try again, that President Kennedy is intent on invading Cuba and removing Castro once and for all. Our spies are very clear on this. For his own reasons, Kennedy has a particular hatred for Castro, and will go to any extremes to eliminate such a threat of a Communist system so close to American shores.”
Khrushchev was more serious now.
“Your spies tell you the truth, as confirmed by my own. Frankly, I am not too encouraged by Castro’s great speeches of loyalty to us, when I know how quickly the Americans could simply wipe him away.”
Malinovsky faced him now.
“We have sent military advisors, training experts, MiGs, other equipment to Cuba already. Castro keeps begging for more. Perhaps, Nikita, we should give him even more than he asks for. It is already proposed that we supply the Cubans with surface-to-air missiles, antiaircraft batteries, to help ward off an American invasion. Castro has insisted we send ground troops as well, to strengthen the Cuban army.”
Khrushchev picked up another rock, launched it seaward.
“I have listened to his whining for some time. He does not seem to know how to ask politely for anything. He simply demands, and when that doesn’t work, he resorts to begging. He believes that if Russian troops are on the ground, the Americans will hesitate to invade, knowing there would be Russian casualties. Forgive me, Rodion, but I believe him to be correct. Kennedy doesn’t seem to be an American president who is carelessly pursuing a wider war.”
“Nikita, it is a great game, a balancing act, if you will. There are American missiles across the Black Sea aimed at the heart of the Soviet Union. We have virtually nothing in our arsenal to compare, few missiles that can easily find a target from thousands of miles away. It could be years before we can be confident of equality. But we do have a great number of medium- and short-range nuclear weapons. All we require is a launching pad as close to the American heartland as those missiles out there are to our own.”
Khrushchev could feel Malinovsky’s growing enthusiasm, contagious now.
“Cuba is that platform.”
“Exactly. We should insist that Castro accept a curtain of nuclear missiles on his territory, as our gesture of security for his sovereignty. Call it our insurance policy. There is no possible way the Americans will invade Cuba if there is the real potential that we will launch a nuclear strike into their heartland. From Cuba, our missiles could reach most American cities, certainly in the eastern part of their country. Invading Cuba, only to risk losing New York or Washington?”
Khrushchev stroked his chin with a thick hand.
“Not even their most militant generals would consider such a trade. It is a brilliant idea, Rodion.”
“Do you believe it will be difficult convincing Castro to accept such a plan?”
“He will accept and be grateful. The greatest challenge is secrecy, convincing him to keep his mouth shut until the missiles are in place.”
“What do you mean?”
Khrushchev was surprised at the question.
“My friend, we cannot announce to the world that we intend to send a nuclear capability across a distant ocean to a foreign country, no matter how much an ally that country may be. The Americans would not simply stand by and watch. In fact, word of this plan would likely inspire them to launch their invasion more quickly, to preempt our gesture to Castro by eliminating Castro altogether. And, we would be excoriated by the United Nations, by every country in Latin America, not to mention America’s allies in Western Europe. No, we must be careful, and apply the utmost discretion to every part of this plan.”
“Yes, I understand. We must envelop every detail of this in an impenetrable fog.”
Khrushchev felt energized, turned back toward his home.
“Let us enjoy a lunch, both houses if the wives insist. Then, we will return to Moscow, and begin discussions with those men whose job it will be to carry this out. The logistical planning must be absolute, and carefully thought out to the last detail. For now, Rodion, allow me to begin those discussions myself, with the Presidium. There will be doubts, of course, possibly even serious objections. I suppose it has to be that way. Men are allowed their opinions, until it is time for me to change them.”
HE MOTIONED FOR Mikoyan to speak, the man now standing, obviously incensed.
“With all respect, Premier, this is madness. Do you expect the Americans will smile upon us, and welcome our intrusion, our violation of their precious Monroe Doctrine? It is one thing for a radical upstart like Castro to stake his claim on a small country, a country that is no real threat to the Americans. But sending our missiles across the Atlantic, anchoring them in a foreign land with no specific purpose other than to aim them at the cities of the United States … how can anyone assume the Americans will not react with outrage? Military outrage. Already there are American generals who see us as their primary threat and their primary target, who push their president to make the first strike, who advocate eliminating the Soviet Union altogether. Is this the course we would pursue, a duel of the great power of the atomic bombs, testing whether our scientists are correct, that a nuclear exchange will leave nothing behind, a world reduced to cinders? That is not the world I would leave for my grandchildren. Would you?”
The others kept silent, all eyes now on Khrushchev.
Anastas Mikoyan was his first deputy prime minister, a man Khrushchev admired as well as loved. Mikoyan’s outburst was entirely expected; his focus seemed always on the most benign approach to any problem. But Khrushchev had not expected the passion in Mikoyan’s words.
“Anastas, your concerns are noted. I am assured, and I assure you all that the military minds behind this plan have been most adamant that we can accomplish the placing of missiles on the island of Cuba in complete secrecy. Once the missiles are in place, the Americans will have to accept things as they are, or it is they who would start such a war. I do not believe Kennedy is such a man, and I believe the American people are as fearful of total destruction as our scientists. We are taking every precaution, ensuring utmost secrecy. Already, ships are being refitted to carry appropriate cargo, well disguised so that they resemble the same kinds of transports we have been using for some time. Along with the armaments, farm equipment and other essential hardware will continue to fill these ships, stirring no concern to any prying eyes, especially American eyes. Once our missiles are well established, once the bases are secure on Cuban soil, we shall announce to the world what we have done. Our reasons are simple and easily justified. Cuba is our ally. There is much talk that our ally is subject to yet another invasion from her greatest enemy, the Americans. We are only seeking bases there as a means of protection, of discouraging American aggression. I am confident, as you should all be, that by creating these missile bases on Cuban soil, the Cuban people will sleep far better knowing we are there to protect them. At the very least, that part of the world shall calm down, the threats that fly out of Miami and elsewhere will grow silent. We shall all benefit.”
He scanned the room, most of the others already in line with his thinking. He focused now on Gromyko, his foreign minister. He knew Gromyko was very familiar with American behavior and attitudes, and he hoped that there would be little argument. Gromyko stirred in his seat, his eyes downward. After a silent moment, Khrushchev said, “You have something to say, Andrei?”
Gromyko looked at him now, spoke slowly.
“Castro has approved this plan? The last time I spoke with him, he was concerned that our friendship was a bit too one-sided, that we might demand more of him than he could provide. Now we are asking him to open up his countryside to our nuclear missiles.”
Khrushchev knew he had to tread lightly, that Gromyko was among his most valuable allies in the Presidium.
“We have been negotiating … no, that is not the correct word. We have succeeded in persuading Castro that we are offering him the opportunity to demonstrate his own power to the rest of the world. He required little persuasion. After all, he will now achieve by our hand the one thing he crows about so loudly. He will be powerful. Perhaps, even invincible.”
“Premier, I must add … I too am concerned with how the Americans will respond.”
Around the room there were sniffs of disapproval, the more militant of his ministers with a show of disrespect for the caution of Mikoyan and Gromyko. To one side sat Marshal Dimitri Kochov, resplendent in his uniform, bedecked with medals and decorations he never failed to wear to the committee meetings. Kochov was an aggressive man, his long career in the army gaining him Khrushchev’s respect, and occasionally, concerns that Kochov’s ambitions might become too uncomfortable for Khrushchev to tolerate. Kochov announced himself with a loud clearing of his throat.
“The Americans have shown only weakness and indecisiveness. Their Bay of Pigs demonstrated to the world, and certainly to their own president, that they are not equipped to stand tall on the world stage. They are weak-willed. Once our missiles are in place, they will accept our move as an unfortunate necessity, an important move so that the threats to world peace are well balanced. That is, after all, what they preach about.”
Mikoyan spoke again, not cowed by Kochov’s scolding.
“And if we are wrong? If the Americans react with a military strike against our bases in Cuba? We will respond of course. And they will again. That is how wars begin, and this is not a war I would expect we would win. No one would win.”
Khrushchev was wearying of the arguments.
“That is precisely why this will work to our advantage. Kennedy does not want to escalate a conflict into a war, a world war. He will accept our bases because he must. As we have accepted his bases in Turkey. Yes, it is a balance, and one we are entitled to achieve.”
ON JUNE 10, 1962, Khrushchev gave the final order. With Russian and other leased ships preparing for the transatlantic crossing, blending in with the steady flow of supply ships already en route to Cuba, weaponry of all kinds, conventional and nuclear, were prepared for the trip. Along with the equipment for bases and launching sites, Russian troops were summoned, filling other transports with thousands of men who would either service or guard the missiles, or serve simply as ground troops, working alongside their Cuban allies in the event the Americans made good on their continuous threats to invade the island.
As the first flotilla of ships sailed through the Mediterranean Sea, American observers flying overhead made their usual reconnaissance passes, noting only that the ships seemed likely to be carrying conventional military stores, along with other kinds of more humanitarian aid. It raised no unusual concern.
In Moscow, the operation took on a new name, Anadyr, named for a town on the eastern tip of Siberia. As though these ships were destined only to service Russian bases in that part of the world, the camouflage even included shipments of cold weather gear, down to fur hats and gloves. For the curious troops on board the ships, who had picked up hints that they were heading to warmer climates, the cargo seemed only to symbolize the ineptitude of Russian supply officers. No one among the troops could suppose just what Operation Anadyr truly involved, and what kind of cargo filled those ships where troops were not allowed.