Castro's bomb

by Robert Conroy

  Now, however, they had a real dilemma. Yes, both he and Pliyev had agreed that the area around Guantanamo would be the logical place for the Cuban bandits to set up and launch the Luna But the area around the base was large, and it was assumed that the Cubans had only a handful of vehicles which meant they could be hidden almost anywhere.

  He'd gotten a radio message that Soviet intelligence in Havana thought that Che Guevara himself was in charge of the rocket, and Dragan thought it ludicrous. From what he'd seen and heard about the Cuban firebrand, he knew nothing about missiles, much less atomic ones, and didn't have a lick of common sense.

  Of course, that made Che all the more dangerous. He was liable to launch the rocket at the first decent target and scream 'Cuba Libre' while initiating World War III. Dragan shuddered. He still had relatives in the Leningrad area. He signaled the column to move out. They would set up a base north of Guantanamo. He wondered if any American Special Forces, the Green Berets he'd heard so much about, would be scouting the area as well and thought it highly likely. He wondered what they would say to each other if they should meet. Perhaps they could compare equipment. Maybe he could trade his distinctive cap for a beret? Or would they simply start shooting.

  He grinned and a couple of his men wondered what was so funny. They wouldn't ask, of course. Dragan was considered a good officer, but a very formal one.

  Ross, Cullen, and Morton walked carefully through the rubble left by the navy's planes. Only a little while earlier they'd again endured the helpless feeling as shock waves from exploding bombs nearly overwhelmed them. They'd been a couple of miles away from the impact area and felt momentary pity for those who'd been directly under the bombs. For Ross, Cullen, Cathy, and those who'd earlier nearly been obliterated by American fire, it had brought back bitter memories. For Romanski and Morton, the incident had come as a terrible shock.

  Romanski and the others had remained back a little ways to provide cover if necessary as the three men walked carefully through the devastated ground. Romanski had tripped and his leg was acting up again. It wasn't broken, but he was pretty immobile and very upset.

  "See anything," Ross asked. The two NCOs said they didn't. Nothing but craters and churned up ground and some shattered trees.

  Cullen held up his hand and they halted. "Bodies."

  The moved forward. Several men lay dead and mangled. From their uniforms, or what remained of them, they'd once been Cuban militia. A good sign, but where was the launcher?

  A more thorough search of the area showed nothing to indicate a tracked rocket launcher or its remains. It could have been smashed to pieces, but it was as big as a tank and at least some of the pieces would still remain. There was nothing, no tires, no frame, and, most important, no rocket. The planes had missed again.

  This was the third time they'd tried to get bombs on what they felt was the launcher. The problem was that it took so long to coordinate an attack and Guevara, if that's who it was, was now thoroughly spooked and keeping his nuclear toy on the move.

  They knew they'd been close. They'd followed the tracks into the grove of trees and thought they'd seen it camouflaged. It had to be nearby, maybe right under their noses.

  "Here's some wreckage," Morton yelled and they came running. The mangled remains of a tracked vehicle and some more bodies lay where the bombs had hurled them. But it wasn't the Luna launcher. It was a Russian built ZIL anti aircraft system. Its bulbous turret lay fifty yards away from the chassis and at least a couple of cremated bodies lay alongside.

  Cullen laughed harshly. "Those guns are a nasty piece of work. Too bad it didn't help them."

  Ross looked around. If the nuke wasn't there, then where was it? They began to look for tracks, and it only took a few moments to find where a tank-like vehicle had headed away from the bomb site.

  "What now, lieutenant?" Morton asked. It no longer surprised him that the two senior NCOs accepted his leadership.

  "Well, this ain't the yellow brick road, but I think we're supposed to follow it."

  Kraeger and Golikov met at Arlington National Cemetery. This time neither man had brought a female companion. It had been Golikov's request that they be alone. A shame, Kraeger thought, Elena should be part of this and Arlington was one of the most humbling places in the world. Row upon row of headstones dedicated to those who had given their lives in the service of their country graced its gentle rolling hills. Granted, a lot of them had died in bed and there were others who had gained access through political influence, but the overwhelming majority of them were heroes.

  "Where's the lovely Oksana?" Kraeger asked.

  "Been promoted to Moscow where's she's doubtless fucking the brains out of some more senior member of the KGB,” Golikov said bitterly. “A wonderful woman and I miss her terribly. I hope she gets the clap and spreads it around the Politburo."

  Charley laughed. The Russian was clearly annoyed at being dumped. He decided to change the subject. "So why did you select Arlington for this meeting?"

  "Because I love this place," Golikov said quietly, surprising Kraeger. "Such quiet majesty and beauty, dignity and pride. We have next to nothing like this back in Russia."

  "Why not?

  "Because," he said somberly, "we suffered twenty million dead in the Great Patriotic War against the Hitlerites, maybe many millions more, and God knows how many additional in the First World War and the Revolution that followed. That is, if there is a God who knows these things. Most Russian men simply left their homes and villages to go fight or flee and were never heard from again. The same with Russian women as the war swept over them. They were sucked into war and died of wounds or starvation or disease or all three. If we wanted to build a cemetery to pay honor to them it would have to be as large as Poland."

  Golikov smiled slightly. "Of course, there are those who think that turning Poland and other satellite nations like Cuba into graveyards is a good idea. No, we have to make do with monuments to heroic soldiers that are massive and monumentally ugly. No elegance, no dignity, no peace and grace. Nothing like this. The poet in me says I should weep, but that would be unbecoming for a KGB officer."

  Kraeger knew the Soviet Union's casualties in the wars had been enormous, but, like most Americans, had never given it much thought. The numbers were beyond comprehension. Twenty million? More? Where did one begin to count?

  Golikov continued. "Those obscene numbers are a large part of what shapes our foreign policy. The Jews in Israel have a saying, ‘Never Again,’ which refers to their Holocaust. We Russians had our own holocaust and you call it World War II. How would your nation behave to real or perceived outside threats if it had suffered proportionately?"

  "With considerable ill will towards anyone who threatened it again," Kraeger admitted with no reluctance.

  "Yes, and that is why we have surrounded ourselves with buffer states and with shit countries such as Poland, Hungary, East Germany, and the like, and that is why our nation takes the presence of American long range nuclear missiles that can hit the Soviet Union as an offensive threat, whether you intended it that way or not. The satellite nations can protect us from your tanks but not from your missiles. Is it not said that capabilities drive intentions? Your country has the capability to attempt to destroy us. Doesn’t that mean that you will someday try? As long as those rockets exist, the possibility of a first American strike remains."

  "Not necessarily," Kraeger answered. "My leaders believe they are defending our nation against another Pearl Harbor, or a strike that would incapacitate us."

  Golikov laughed. "Pearl Harbor? Three thousand dead? Trifling. I piss on those numbers. We suffered that many each day during the battle for Stalingrad. Or was it each hour? I forget. And please do not tell me that all your generals want only to defend your nation. Or have you never heard the rantings of General LeMay and of Patton before him? LeMay has all those bombers and all those nuclear weapons. He could start and end World War III on his own and it would be over before anybody
realized it."

  "We don't work that way."

  "At least not yet, and that is not a chance Moscow can take."

  Enough, Kraeger thought as he walked along a row of graves. "What do you want? Why did you call this meeting?"

  "Just for you to once more remind your president that taking out Castro could have grave consequences far beyond Cuba. I know he knows that, and I know that you and others have been telling him, but it must be said again. The best case for continuing world stability lies in keeping Castro in charge. Let us decide when he is no longer needed, as well as easing the changeover from Khrushchev to whoever follows him."

  Kraeger paused, startled. "Comrade Nikita's on his way out?"

  Golikov nodded solemnly. "Back in Moscow, it is considered very likely. A growing number of the Politburo think he has royally fucked up this whole Cuban situation. He will be replaced sooner rather than later."

  "And then what? Siberia or a bullet in the head?"

  Golikov laughed. "Didn't I tell you we don't do that anymore? No, he will be allowed to retire to a pleasant dacha where he will be totally ignored and find himself bored to tears. He will be allowed to count trees, but nothing more substantive."

  "I will tell my people."

  "Please do that," Golikov said. "For me, if you don't mind I will wander this wonderful Arlington and enjoy its peaceful dignity. Did you know that some of the dead from the battleship Maine are buried here? That sinking in 1898 started the war with Spain that gave you Guantanamo in the first place. Ironic isn't it?"

  Romanski had them all fan out as they walked through a field of waist high straw-like grasses. He was at one end of the short line and Ross at the other. Cathy stayed about a hundred yards behind. She was clearly in harm's way but refused to let the others out of sight.

  Romanski's leg was causing him great pain and he kept swearing under his breath as they walked. He was now certain it would have to be broken again and re-set. He swore at Morton's shortcomings as a medic and wondered how long he could keep up.

  The answer came suddenly. He stumbled and fell forward and it felt like hot irons were being jammed into his leg. He rolled over and got up with great difficulty. He signaled to Morton who nodded.

  Damn it, Romanski thought. Now it looked like the leg wouldn't have to be re-broken. It probably just happened. At least he could still walk a little bit, although once again with something for support, so maybe it wasn't quite broken.

  Cathy walked past him and looked quizzically. "You need help, don't you?"

  The colonel tried to make light of it, even though it hurt so badly he thought he might pass out. "Even if I did, young lady, I wouldn't admit it, because I'm airborne and immune to pain. You go ahead and I'll cover everyone's rear."

  Which, he thought, is what I should have been doing in the first place. He was too old and too banged up to keep up with the young tigers. Cathy nodded grimly and moved forward. Her mind was fixed on where Andrew Ross was and what he was doing.

  The men of ExComm looked pleased with themselves, and with good reason. The Cuban forces were collapsing and victory in the Guantanamo area was virtually assured. The retaking of the base and the liberation of the prisoners held at Santiago was a matter of hours, a couple of days at most. Even Air Force General LeMay looked pleased, although still his usual belligerent self. He seemed annoyed that he was running out of bona fide targets.

  "Sir, we've been bombarding them with napalm and leaflets with a very simple message. Either surrender or get killed. I'm happy to say that it's proven very effective. Several thousands of Cubans have given up and we think others are simply disappearing into the jungle. Many of the militia appear to be stripping off their uniforms, abandoning their weapons, and simply going home."

  LeMay gestured towards the map. "However, some are still fighting. Those armies seem to have broken off into two groups. The first is retreating south towards Guantanamo and Santiago and continues to fight, and we are pounding it along with bombs as well as dropping leaflets. The second group is retreating westward in the general direction of Havana. They seem to be paying little attention to leaflets and we are going to continue to hit them as hard as we can."

  Kennedy nodded. The Cuban troops retreating towards Gitmo and Santiago were still threats, but the ones heading away from the battle? He took a deep breath. It was time for ExComm to learn what some, like LeMay, might consider an unpleasant truth.

  "General, I don't wish to slaughter men who cannot fight back. I agree that the ones in the south need to be taken out, but the troops heading west are no threat. Let them go. No massacres."

  The army's General Wheeler looked puzzled. "But sir, if we let them go we will only face them later when we approach Havana."

  Kennedy didn't answer. He looked down at the table. Yes, it was time for everyone to face reality, to bring out in the open what they all were thinking.

  He looked up and took in all their expressions. "We aren't going to Havana."

  There was stunned silence. Finally, Curtis LeMay stood up, his face red with anger. "This is bullshit, fucking bullshit. This is Korea all over again, isn't it? We have victory over the commie bastards right in our grasp and you're going to let them off, aren't you? Sir, if you do that, millions of Americans are going to hate your guts and we're still going to have a commie nation ninety miles from Florida."

  Kennedy glared at him, his own temper threatening to get the best of him. "First of all, general, sit down. Second, don't ever talk like that to me again. Like it or not, and like me or not — and I do know how many of you feel about me — but I am your president and commander in chief. And yes, we are going to let them go for the simple reason that we don't want a nuclear or even a conventional confrontation with the Russians. Or have you forgotten that there are upwards of forty-thousand well-armed and well-trained Soviet soldiers with tanks and heavy weapons sitting around Havana? Or have you forgotten that they have dozens of tactical nuclear weapons at their disposal, and their doctrine, as we now understand it, is to use them first and ask questions later? How many of you want to be responsible for the bloodbath that would ensue, and what do you think the Russians would do in retaliation?"

  LeMay sat, but remained furious. "They'll think we're weak, just like Korea. They'll stomp all over us somewhere else, like Korea or Berlin. Or maybe that fucking pigsty, Vietnam."

  Kennedy sighed. The Korean War had ended as a stalemate to almost everyone's dissatisfaction. Hawks like LeMay and Douglas MacArthur felt that the war should have been carried to the Chinese mainland and that nuclear weapons should have been used early on. That former General and then President Dwight Eisenhower had agreed to a limited solution had puzzled the hawks. They felt that wars are fought to be won, not left as ties.

  "Gentlemen," Kennedy said firmly, "our goal was the recapture of Guantanamo and the release of our prisoners. Very shortly we will have accomplished those goals. Taking Havana and toppling Castro are not worth the cost in additional American lives, especially if the Soviets fight alongside the Cubans and begin the use of nuclear bombs. And, like you said, General LeMay, let's also not forget that we are vulnerable in Berlin and Korea. I know that some don't think the Russians exert much control over the Chinese and the Koreans, but I don't think we're ready to take that chance.

  "Yes, we would ultimately prevail against Havana, just as the Soviets would ultimately prevail and take Berlin as part of a bloody quid pro quo, and we might just find ourselves up to our asses in trouble in Korea if the North Koreans and Chinese march south. And what would we have accomplished beyond the loss of thousands of American lives? And that reminds me, how many Americans are dead in this invasion?"

  "About a thousand," Taylor said. "And several thousand more are wounded."

  "Any estimate of Cuban casualties?" Kennedy asked.

  "At least ten times that," Taylor answered.

  Kennedy sat back in his chair. "So many dead and wounded on top of the casualties we've already suff
ered during their attack on Gitmo, and how many thousands more would be necessary to actually topple Castro? I have finally, belatedly, come to the obvious conclusion that the Cuban people actually support Castro and will fight to keep him in power. Maybe they'll get tired of him some time in the future, but it isn't going to happen anytime soon."

  LeMay snarled. "Then let's confront them with our bombers. The Strategic Air Command's B52s can wipe out any Cuban or Russian threat in Cuba."

  The other military leaders looked aghast. Maxwell Taylor said, "The president is right. I will not support anything that threatens to escalate into an all-out nuclear war, or even a limited one. Limited wars get out of hand very quickly as history has repeatedly shown us. I for one do not wish to imperil millions of American citizens for the dubious pleasure of kicking Castro off his throne."

  Admiral Anderson added his two cents. "General LeMay, as much as I would like to see Castro deposed, I too worry about the price. Have you forgotten about the Soviet navy's surface squadron and the presence of a large number of submarines in the area? What if we had to fight them as well? We'd win, of course, but at what price and for what reason?"

  LeMay shook his head in disbelief. "Admiral, that surface squadron consists of three aging, World War II vintage cruisers and their submarines, which, based on previous experiences, are pieces of shit."

  "But they all have nukes," Anderson insisted. "And those submarines off the coast of Cuba are only the tip of the Soviet Union’s naval strength. Of course we'd destroy them, but, again, at what price?"

  "And what about the exiles in Florida?" LeMay insisted. "Don't they deserve justice?"

  "We don't always get justice in this life," Kennedy said softly, silently wondering if there would be justice in the next. "If we do take even a large portion of Cuba and decide to hold it, the exiles will insist on returning to the area we occupy, and it will foment a civil war in Cuba with us in the middle, or, worse, with us on one side and the Russians on the other. You may consider my decision unjust and I won't argue the point, but the exiles cannot be permitted to return to Cuba, at least not at this time. You can argue all you want that it isn't fair, but life isn't fair."