19
The phone woke Dimka. His heart pounded: was it war? How many minutes did he have to live? He snatched up the receiver. It was Natalya. First with the news, as usual, she said: ‘There’s a flash from Pliyev.’
General Pliyev was in command of Soviet forces in Cuba.
‘What?’ said Dimka. ‘What does it say?’
‘They think the Americans are going to attack today, at dawn their time.’
It was still dark in Moscow. Dimka turned on the bedside light and looked at his watch. It was eight in the morning: he should be at the Kremlin. But dawn in Cuba was still five hours away. His heart slowed a little. ‘How do they know?’
‘That’s not the point,’ she said impatiently.
‘What is the point?’
‘I’ll read you the last sentence. “We have decided that in the event of a US attack on our installations, we will employ all available means of air defence.” They will use nuclear weapons.’
‘They can’t do that without our permission!’
‘But that’s exactly what they’re proposing.’
‘Malinovsky won’t let them.’
‘Don’t bet on that.’
Dimka cursed under his breath. Sometimes the military seemed to want nuclear annihilation. ‘I’ll meet you in the canteen.’
‘Give me half an hour.’
Dimka showered fast. His mother offered him breakfast, but he refused, so she gave him a piece of black rye bread to take with him. ‘Don’t forget there’s a party for your grandfather today,’ Anya said.
It was Grigori’s birthday: he was seventy-four. There would be a big lunch at his apartment. Dimka had promised to bring Nina. They were planning to surprise everyone by announcing their engagement.
But there would be no party if the Americans attacked Cuba.
As Dimka was leaving, Anya stopped him. ‘Tell me the truth,’ she said. ‘What’s going to happen?’
He put his arms around her. ‘I’m sorry, Mother, I don’t know.’
‘Your sister’s over there in Cuba.’
‘I know.’
‘She’s right in the line of fire.’
‘The Americans have intercontinental missiles, Mother. We’re all in the line of fire.’
She hugged him, then turned away.
Dimka drove to the Kremlin on his motorcycle. When he got to the Presidium building, Natalya was waiting in the canteen. Like Dimka, she had dressed in a hurry, and she looked a little dishevelled. Her untidy hair fell over her face in a way he found charming. I must stop thinking like this, he told himself: I’m going to do the right thing, and marry Nina and raise our child.
He wondered what Natalya would say when he told her that.
But this was not the moment. He took his piece of rye bread from his pocket. ‘I wish I could get some tea,’ he said. The canteen doors were open but no one was serving yet.
‘I’ve heard that restaurants in the United States open when people want food and drinks, not when the staff want to work,’ said Natalya. ‘Do you think it’s true?’
‘Probably just propaganda,’ said Dimka. He sat down.
‘Let’s draft a reply to Pliyev,’ she said, and opened a notebook.
Chewing, Dimka concentrated on the issue. ‘The Presidium should forbid Pliyev to launch nuclear weapons without specific orders from Moscow.’
‘I’d rather forbid him even to mount the warheads on the rockets. Then they can’t be fired by accident.’
‘Good thinking.’
Yevgeny Filipov came into the room. He was wearing a brown pullover under a grey suit jacket. Dimka said: ‘Good morning, Filipov, have you come to apologize to me?’
‘For what?’
‘You accused me of allowing the secret of our Cuban missiles to leak out. You even said I should be arrested. Now we know the missiles were photographed by a spy plane of the CIA. Obviously, you owe me a grovelling apology.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Filipov blustered. ‘We didn’t think their high-altitude photographs would show something as small as a missile. What are you two plotting?’
Natalya answered with the truth. ‘We’re discussing this morning’s flash message from Pliyev.’
‘I’ve already spoken to Malinovsky about it.’ Filipov worked for Defence Minister Malinovsky. ‘He is in agreement with Pliyev.’
Dimka was horrified. ‘Pliyev can’t be allowed to start World War Three on his own initiative!’
‘He won’t be starting it. He’ll be defending our troops from American aggression.’
‘The level of response can’t be a local decision.’
‘There may be no time for anything else.’
‘Pliyev must make time, rather than trigger a nuclear exchange.’
‘Malinovsky believes we must protect the weapons we have in Cuba. If they were destroyed by the Americans, it would weaken our ability to defend the USSR.’
Dimka had not thought of that. A significant part of the Soviet nuclear stockpile was now in Cuba. The Americans could wipe out all those costly weapons, leaving the Soviets seriously weakened.
‘No,’ said Natalya. ‘Our whole strategy must be based on not using nuclear weapons. Why? Because we have so few, by comparison with the American arsenal.’ She leaned forward across the canteen table. ‘Listen to me, Yevgeny. If it comes to all-out nuclear war, they win.’ She sat back. ‘So we may brag, we may bluster, we may threaten, but we may not fire our weapons. For us, nuclear war is suicide.’
‘That’s not how the Defence Ministry sees it.’
Natalya hesitated. ‘You speak as if a decision has already been made.’
‘It has. Malinovsky has endorsed Pliyev’s proposal.’
Dimka said: ‘Khrushchev won’t like that.’
‘On the contrary,’ said Filipov, ‘he agreed it.’
Dimka realized he had missed out on early morning discussions because he had been up so late last night. That put him at a disadvantage. He stood up. ‘Let’s go,’ he said to Natalya.
They left the cafeteria. Waiting for the elevator, Dimka said: ‘Damn. We’ve got to reverse that decision.’
‘I’m sure Kosygin will want to raise it at the Presidium today.’
‘Why don’t you type the order we drafted and suggest Kosygin brings it to the meeting? I’ll try to soften Khrushchev up.’
‘All right.’
They parted and Dimka went to Khrushchev’s office. The First Secretary was reading translations of Western newspaper articles, each one stapled to the original clipping. ‘Have you read Walter Lippmann’s article?’
Lippmann was a syndicated American columnist of liberal views. He was said to be close to President Kennedy.
‘No.’ Dimka had not yet looked at the papers.
‘Lippmann proposes a swap: we withdraw our missiles from Cuba, and they remove theirs from Turkey. It’s a message to me from Kennedy!’
‘Lippmann is only a journalist—’
‘No, no. He’s a mouthpiece for the President.’
Dimka doubted that American democracy worked that way, but he said nothing.
Khrushchev went on: ‘It means that if we propose this swap, Kennedy will accept.’
‘But we have already demanded something different – their promise not to invade Cuba.’
‘So, we will keep Kennedy guessing!’
We’ll certainly keep him confused, Dimka thought. But that was Khrushchev’s way. Why be consistent? It only made life easier for the enemy.
Dimka changed the subject. ‘There will be questions at the Presidium about Pliyev’s message. Giving him the power to fire nuclear weapons—’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Khrushchev with a deprecating wave. ‘The Americans are not going to attack now. They’re even talking to the United Nations General Secretary. They want peace.’
‘Of course,’ said Dimka deferentially. ‘So long as you know it’s going to come up.’
‘Yes, yes.’
The leaders of the Soviet Union gathered in the panelled Presidium Room a few minutes later. Khrushchev opened the meeting with a long speech, arguing that the time for an American attack had passed. Then he raised what he called the Lippmann Proposal. There was little enthusiasm for it around the long table, but no one opposed him. Most people realized the leader had to conduct diplomacy in his own style.
Khrushchev was so excited about the new idea that he dictated his letter to Kennedy there and then, while the others listened. Then he ordered that it should be read out on Radio Moscow. That way the American Embassy here could forward it to Washington without the time-consuming chore of encoding it.
Finally, Kosygin raised the issue of Pliyev’s flash. He argued that control of nuclear weapons must remain in Moscow, and read out the order to Pliyev that Dimka and Natalya had drafted.
‘Yes, yes, send it,’ said Khrushchev impatiently; and Dimka breathed more easily.
An hour later, Dimka was with Nina, going up in the elevator at Government House. ‘Let’s try to forget our woes for a while,’ he said to her. ‘We won’t talk about Cuba. We’re going to a party. Let’s enjoy ourselves.’
‘That suits me,’ Nina said.