While Rome Was Sleeping

by M. S. Forsythe

  Yang frowned and studied his hands now folded on the desk in front of him. “They have been detained for spying,” he said in a serious tone.

  “That, of course, is ridiculous. They are technicians, nothing more,” Chernakov stated flatly.

  Yang was thinking, “Why are these two so important that Moscow would send Chernakov?” And then said, “Everyone knows who you are, General Chernakov; I ask myself, if these technicians are not spies, why would your government send someone so important to seek their release?”

  Chernakov leaned back in his chair appraising his somewhat antagonistic host. “Don’t make too much of my presence here, General Yang,” he spoke softly, but authoritatively. “There are a number of reasons why I was asked to meet with you.”

  “Number one, I understand and speak your language without an interpreter, thus there will be no room for misunderstanding,” he paused, “by either of us.

  “Number two, I am very familiar with this district and North Vietnam and the work of these technicians who have been in Hanoi until their arrest, under joint authority of China, USSR and North Vietnam.

  “Number three, I am personally willing to accept, and to give Moscow my assurance, that an innocent mistake was made during the transfer of prisoners from Hanoi to Nanning and that our two technicians were simply misidentified. And of course my government knows that the government of the great Peoples Republic of China would not wish a break-down in our governments’ mutual attempts to resolve and diffuse certain of our differences by continuing to incarcerate two innocent Soviet citizens.”

  Yang’s eyes glittered as he studied the Soviet General for a brief moment. He knew that Chernakov was not someone who would play diplomatic games. Yang also knew that the technicians had been arrested and held by his own orders. He had not expected the Supreme Soviet to send a man like Chernakov for two puny technicians of little importance. His plan of harassment of Soviet personnel was backfiring.

  Chernakov spoke, “Well, General Yang, what are your thoughts on this situation?”

  Yang responded, “I will need to speak with my Intelligence Officer, Captain Lu Chan and look into the details of their arrest,” he said thoughtfully.

  Both men were standing now, “Thank you General Yang.” Pyotr looked squarely at Yang, “I have approximately twenty-four hours and then I must prepare to return to Moscow—with our two Soviet technicians. If they are not released and I must go to a higher level of authority, I am prepared to do that. Now General, can quarters be provided for our air crew and Major Sukhanov and me for the night?”

  “Of course,” Yang said as he gave orders to one of his aides to arrange food and lodging for the Soviet air crew and their commanders and added, “Please ask Captain Lu Chan to come in.”

  Turning to Chernakov he said firmly, “I will look into the matter of our discussion immediately, General Chernakov, and I will have an answer for you in the morning. Forgive me for not joining you for dinner this evening, but, as you can see my duties will keep me here. I will arrange for Captain Lu Chan to act in my absence as your host and to provide you with all amenities.”

  In a few moments Lu Chan arrived. “It is good to see you again, Captain Lu Chan,” Chernakov told him. He recognized Lu Chan having met him previously in Hanoi.

  The short stocky Lu Chan stood about 5’6”. His dark eyes smiled out of a round congenial face that lit up at seeing the Soviet General. It is a pleasure for me as well, General Chernakov,” Lu Chan responded. Then to Yang he said, “Sir, I had the pleasure of assisting General Chernakov on two occasions in Hanoi.”

  Yang nodded irritably, “Yes, yes, Captain,” he said impatiently. “General Chernakov is here about the two Soviet technicians that have been charged with spying. Please arrange for the General and his aide to be taken to guest quarters. When you have done that, return to my office to discuss our findings on this matter. If you have no questions you may go,” he said dismissing Lu Chan. Turning to the two Soviet officers, “I trust you will rest well, General Chernakov,” he said coldly.

  “I’m certain I will, General Yang. Thank you.”

  As they left the Command office, a car was waiting. Lu Chan said, “General, I’m sure you and Major Sukhanov would like to freshen up and perhaps rest for awhile.”

  “Yes,” agreed Pyotr. “It has been a long day.”

  He went on, “At dinner this evening I’ll be happy to answer any questions you might have. Will 1900 be agreeable? If so I will send the car for you.”

  “1900 is fine; we’ll see you then.”

  ✽✽✽

  There was no discussion at dinner of Chernakov’s mission and Lu Chan proved to be a most agreeable host. He and Sukhanov provided excellent conversation allowing Chernakov the luxury of relaxation in what otherwise might have been a tense evening.

  They talked of life in the USSR and China. The men had studied and each spoke several languages fluently. They also had similar interests in art and history.

  “Tell me, Comrades, something about your lives in Russia,” Lu Chan looked intently first at Pyotr then Alexei.

  Chernakov began, “My father was a teacher at the University in Moscow. My mother took care of our home and me. They are now dead. I was an only child,” the General smiled.

  “Do you have a family, Comrade?” Lu Chan asked.

  Chernakov replied, “I was married for 10 years, but my wife, Valeri became very ill and died a little more than three months ago. We had no children.”

  “I am very sorry,” Lu Chan offered sympathetically.

  Sukhanov intervened turning the conversation from the painful topic by sharing a little of his own history. He spoke with pride of his father, a World War II Soviet Air Force officer and then said, “He now instructs at one of our Soviet military academies.”

  Sukhanov’s desire to emulate Chernakov was evidenced when he confessed that he planned to attend Voroshilov Academy like the General he served.

  Lu Chan studied Alexei. With his classic good looks, height and athletic build, he could have easily been a model for the cover of Soviet Life Magazine, one of the many propaganda materials he had seen given to American prisoners for indoctrination. “Are you married, Major?” he asked.

  “No, I have been too much occupied with my military career to take time for marriage. I am still young... only 28,” Sukhanov said in mock defense, his blue eyes filled with mirth.

  Chernakov chuckled, “Alexei my young friend, the years fly by—don’t wait too long. If I had waited I might have missed my Valeri,” he said wistfully, “and I would not have wished to miss a minute of our time together.”

  Sukhanov nodded, “Perhaps I will make more time for such pursuits; at least I will consider it, but you must admit General, serving our great country is almost as demanding as a marriage; nearly as much so as being married to a woman and not entirely without its own rewards.” Sukhanov’s dedication and love of his country was obvious. “Now Captain Lu Chan, tell us some of your history. What I know of China is most interesting. Are you from this province?”

  “No, I was born in Yencheng,” Lu Chan began, “It is quite far from here to the North and West in Guizhou Province. My mother still lives in my village; my father is dead,” Lu Chan paused, “I was educated in State Peoples Schools.”

  Chernakov looked at Lu Chan, “Obviously you have done well, Comrade; in what fields of study were you trained?” he asked.

  Lu Chan answered quickly. “I had a talent for mathematics as well as learning languages. I also studied engineering. It is my hope to work in another field someday.”

  “What made you choose the military for a career?” Pyotr asked.

  Lu Chan’s eyes darkened, “The war had started in Vietnam, and I was conscripted into the Chinese Peoples’ Army. Very simply, my leaders observed my math and language abilities. They assigned me to the Intelligence Unit where I was trained to break coded messages. Eventually they placed me in charge of interrogation and the movement of prison
ers. That was when I met you, General, if you recall.”

  “Yes, that is so,” Chernakov responded thoughtfully.

  Finishing dinner the two Soviet officers stood, “Thank you, Captain, we enjoyed your hospitality very much,” Chernakov told Lu Chan. “I will personally thank General Yang when I see him in the morning.”

  “I too, enjoyed the evening, General,” Lu Chan replied bowing slightly. “I will see you in the morning.”

  ✽✽✽

  In their quarters, both Chernakov and Sukhanov reflected on their conversation over dinner. Sukhanov spoke, “It was an interesting time, General, however I believe the Captain knows a great deal more about us than we do about him.”

  “Perhaps that’s why he serves in Intelligence, Alexei; he gets people to talk about themselves, but doesn’t reciprocate,” he said lightly. “Ah well, good thing he didn’t try to extract any secrets from us, eh, Major?” Pyotr was smiling. “I am tired enough I might have let down my guard.”

  “I don’t think so, Sir, but I do think a night’s sleep will do us both good. And the accommodations are indeed better than the plane. It is no doubt somewhat cooler.” Sukhanov appraised the Spartan, but comfortable quarters. The sleeping areas were divided by a half wall open at the top. A ceiling fan stirred the air above beds under the protection of mosquito netting.

  “I’m not certain, Alexei; the atmosphere was quite cool in General Yang’s office. Was it not?” Chernakov chuckled.

  ✽✽✽

  Lu Chan also reflected on the evening spent with the Soviet general and his aide.

  What little he had told Chernakov and Sukhanov about himself was true. He was sure they knew there was much of his story that was missing.

  ✽✽✽

  The next morning two cars were waiting to take General Chernakov and Major Sukhanov to their plane. In the back seat of the second car sat two tired looking Soviet technicians. They still wore the drab POW jumpsuits. Their faces reflected disbelief upon seeing their Soviet deliverer.

  Lu Chan emerged from the car smiling and greeted Pyotr and Alexei with a proper salute. “Good morning, General, I hope you slept well. General Yang sends his humble apologies for not greeting you personally this morning; however, he spent a great deal of the night arranging for the release of these Soviet citizens.

  “He did ask me to convey his thanks for clarifying the obvious mistake,” Lu Chan’s face registered a subtle mix of humor and satisfaction. Looking into the Soviet General’s eyes he was thinking how much he admired this man who would walk into the dragon’s mouth and face General Yang so calmly. It was not often that Yang was forced to back down. Though he had won, General Chernakov had understood that he must allow Yang to save face, but Lu Chan knew that Yang would never forget his defeat at Chernakov’s firm but gentle hand.

  “Thank you, Captain,” Chernakov said sincerely. “Tell General Yang that we appreciated his intervention in this delicate matter. I look forward to seeing you again.”

  They saluted and Chernakov, the technicians and Sukhanov boarded the turboprop for Moscow.

  October 1968

  The summer had passed quickly for Chernakov. Promoted to Lieutenant General, he spent a great deal of time on Party matters, meeting with the Ministry of Defense on several occasions and had been sent to Havana to hand carry a presidential communication to Prime Minister Castro. Returning home he received word that Sukhanov had received a promotion and that he would be sent to a command in Czechoslovakia.

  He knew that Alexei’s loyalty was making it difficult to discuss the news. Finally, Chernakov called him into his office and said, “Congratulations on your promotion, Alexei, I know you will go far.”

  “Yes, Sir, but ... “

  “No regrets, Alexei... you have been my good and trusted right arm and I shall miss you. But I take great delight in seeing you go ahead in your career; it is what you have worked so hard for. When do you leave?”

  “As soon as possible, General; Major Sergei Trushenko will be your new aide and will be here day after tomorrow.” Clearing his throat he looked at Chernakov. “General, it has been a privilege to serve with you. I shall always remember.”

  “Thank you, Major or I should say, Lieutenant Colonel; it has been a privilege for me as well. We must celebrate before you leave.” Chernakov said in a lighter vein. “Tonight we will drink to your future, yes?”

  ✽✽✽

  Trushenko had none of Sukhanov’s characteristics that the Chernakov had come to appreciate. The new aide was dour and recited Marxist-Leninist doctrines endlessly. Whenever Chernakov attempted to converse on a lighter note, Trushenko would turn every conversation to the Party line.

  Even Karpov would have offered more intellectual relief, Chernakov thought; and then chided himself, “Am I really that desperate?”

  Karpov, however, was spending much of his time in Paris ostensibly developing Communist cell groups. He had returned to Moscow in late August. After a meeting of the Politburo, Chernakov was amused when Karpov drew him aside to tell him about a new member of an artist cell group from South Vietnam. His eyes fairly danced in describing her intellect and devotion to the Party, but it was clear to Chernakov that something more had made a major impression on the KGB boss.

  Chernakov deliberately baited Karpov suggesting in a serious tone, “It is clever of you, Comrade, to take an interest in gaining this Vietnamese peasant woman’s loyalty. They can be rather tiresome and I find most are generally unattractive, as I suppose this one likely is, but how very wise of you to capture her intellect,” he said seriously.

  “Oh no, no, no, Comrade Chernakov,” Karpov protested, “she is not a peasant; her mother is Vietnamese, but her father is French; that is why she spends so much time in Paris; she was educated there and she has such contempt for the Capitalistic Americans. She is also not without beauty,” he mused in satisfaction.

  “She has much to learn and is such a willing student,” he smirked. “And I will be her teacher,” he added with enthusiasm.

  “I am certain she is in very capable hands, Comrade.” It was obvious that Karpov’s new ‘student’ had amply engaged his libidinous nature. Chernakov wondered how this student viewed Karpov as her mentor.

  November 25, 1968

  The unexpected summons from Karpov on November 15th to discuss his new assignment had puzzled Chernakov, especially since it was to take place over dinner. One really did not know what to expect from the GRU chief, “But at least I will have a good dinner,” Pyotr had thought.

  It was now only five days before leaving on the assignment given by Karpov and the Central Committee to wrest the American equipment captured at the Laotian site from the hands of the Comrades in Hanoi.

  Chernakov had spent hours in preparation. He pored over maps and examined the North Vietnamese and Soviet intelligence reports of the equipment being used at Site 85 learning all he could of the American TSQ radar technology.

  As a former fighter pilot and knowing the weather conditions in Laos and Vietnam, Chernakov understood the intrinsic value of an all weather navigation system for bombing missions.

  He studied the statistics of the bombing runs made by the Americans and then carefully noted that even in the most adverse weather conditions the bombs reached their targets. The information on the TSQ was known in various degrees, but the Americans had developed something new and better.

  Chernakov was excited to have an assignment that offered a challenge; one that would allow him to take charge of and learn about the technology used so effectively by the American bombers.

  The day before he was to depart, he met briefly with Karpov and members of the Defense Ministry receiving final instructions. Then he and Trushenko spent the afternoon clearing his desk and instructing his staff. He thought about the Americans in the embassy and wished he could somehow contact Harding or Jacobsen, but he knew it was impossible. Now there was just one more task to complete; tomorrow there would be a visit to the cemetery.

/>   ✽✽✽

  A cold wind whistled through alleys of the cemetery grave stones that stood in various shapes and sizes. As he trudged along the hard ground to Valeri’s grave, he noticed a workman dressed in heavy rough clothing and a coarse wool cap nearby watching him. He sighed in mild exasperation; even here in the cemetery he was watched. It was unusual; the workman seemed to be alone—the ever present dark sedan that followed him everywhere was not in sight.

  He was startled when the man moved closer and addressed him in English, “Good morning, General.”

  Chernakov stopped.

  “It is very cold is it not?” The workman spoke again in English. “The weather was much warmer in September of 1967; perhaps you remember?”

  Hesitating, Chernakov responded. “Yes, I recall that.”

  Nodding the worker continued, “I am told that Southeast Asia has the warmest climate this time of year. In some cases it is almost perfect if you can make the right connections.”

  “I have not seen you here before. Do you work here?” Chernakov asked cautiously.

  “Not often,” the worker replied, “only when necessary.” Then taking his tools he disappeared behind a large stone and was gone.

  Pytor spoke to Valeri’s grave, “It’s strange, my darling, but it seems I must be ready for the next step.”

  ✽✽✽

  The next morning Chernakov and Trushenko boarded the airplane bound for Nanning and the first stop on the mission to secure the much desired equipment.

  The level of conversation with his aide was stiff and superficial, pertaining only to military matters. There was little discussion of Nanning or expectations at the camp.

  Chernakov worked uninterrupted and made many notes of his assignment. He glanced at Trushenko now and then noting that his aide sat rigidly in his seat reading some policy document. The contrast between Sukhanov and Trushenko was remarkable. Alexei always appeared to be relaxed, generating Chernakov’s confidence. Sergei, on the other hand, was as taut as a tightly strung bow, ready to fire at any deviation from the Party line, no matter how small.