Francis Powers - Operation Overflight

It was a small incident, certainly nothing compared to what some prisoners undergo at the hands of their captors, but I reacted strongly.

Revenge is sweet, and I desperately needed some of that sweetening. But, considering our relative circumstances, I could see no way to accomplish it. Until, that evening, when the time came to write in my diary.

Zigurd and I were unsure whether our cell was searched when we were out. Several times, before leaving for walks or a movie, we had set traps—a thread stretched between the beds, a drawer open a fraction of an inch. But, on our return, they were undisturbed. I didn’t know whether my diary was being read. But this was one time I fervently hoped it would be.

For my entry that day I wrote: “Went to a concert put on by prisoners in barracks number 3. Liked it. Whole day spoiled by prison commander. First S.O.B. I have seen in Russia.”

S.O.B. was in bold black letters and underlined.

I could visualize the prison commander asking a translator, “What is an S.O.B.?”

And I could picture the translator trying to explain it to him.

A daydream, of course. But most satisfying.

Diary, November 7: “Big holiday here. Sundays and holidays are bad in prison. A person knows other people are celebrating and feels lonely. The radio told of the celebration in Moscow. Twentygun salute, fireworks, etc.”

In Russia it was the forty-third anniversary of the Bolshevik Revolution. Tomorrow it would be election day in the United States and I was eagerly awaiting word of the outcome. Although limited in my news sources, I had followed this election with far greater interest than any previous one.

From my father’s letters I had received the distinct impression that the Eisenhower administration was anxious to sweep the U-2 incident under the rug. This had come across with some bitterness, since my father, an iconoclast in just about everything, was one of those rare creatures, a Virginia Republican. Shortly after my capture, his attorney, Carl McAfee, had tried to see the President. Failing in this, he had talked to Vice-President Nixon, who assured him that everything that could be done would be done. Perhaps needless to say, my father did not believe this was the case.

There was one lingering reminder of the U-2 episode. My presence in a Russian prison. For a time I had hoped that Eisenhower would attempt to remedy this before leaving office. Knowing the stand he had already taken, I was sure he would never apologize to Khrushchev for the overflights, but I had hoped that some understanding could be reached wherein both sides could save face. I was far less confident now. Politics being politics, the time to do this would have been before the election, when the Republicans could have derived some political benefit. Now, it seemed, they didn’t want to be reminded.

According to the highly slanted Russian interpretation of the news, the two candidates differed only in degree, both being committed to continuing the arms race. I knew little as to the issues of the campaign. I did know, however, that Kennedy had said earlier that had he been President when the incident occurred, he would have apologized to Khrushchev; that following my trial he had pronounced the sentence “extremely harsh,” stating that the testimony made clear that Powers “was only carrying out his duty.” And I had heard a little about the Kennedy-Nixon debates. I observed in my journal: “Nixon said that the next President should be a man who was not afraid to stand up to Khrushchev. I don’t know what Kennedy replied to this, but I do know my own opinion. I think we need a man as President who would try to get along with people and not go around with a chip on his shoulder saying ‘I’m not afraid of you.’ We need a man who would try to settle and ease the tension in the world. We definitely do not need a man who thinks he has to stand up to another man and prove to the world that he isn’t afraid, even if he kills half the population of his country proving it.”

I hoped Kennedy had won. I added, pointedly, that my opinions were formed solely on the limited, edited news available to me. “If I had heard all of the speeches, etc., my opinions might be different.”

My sentence, I felt sure, could be terminated only by an easing of tensions between the East and the West. I now had a highly personal stake in world peace.

During the trial Grinev had made a big point of my being apolitical, never having voted in an American election. I was not proud of this fact. I had been away from home since turning twenty-one; while stationed at various Air Force bases and while overseas I had always intended to write home for an absentee ballot, but had never gotten around to it.

Now, one way of the other, my future could very well depend on the outcome of the balloting.

I vowed that if — when —I returned to the United States, never again would I miss an opportunity to cast my vote.

Something had been on my mind since long before the trial. Now, awaiting the election results and knowing that whichever way the balloting went that the Eisenhower years were coming to an end, I gave it more thought.

I asked myself why, with the Summit so close, had Eisenhower approved my flight?

I tried to assemble the pieces of the puzzle, those few I possessed. I knew there had been no overflights for months and then suddenly two in close succession. The pilots believed the resumption of the flights was due at least in part to the agency’s fear that Russia was now close to solving her missile-guidance problem. I knew that my particular flight had been authorized on the highest level because my take-off had been delayed until White House approval had been received.

I also knew the intelligence objectives of both flights were important—but important enough to take this risk at this time?

One possible explanation occurred to me. At first it seemed farfetched; yet, the more I thought about it, the more sense it made.

Could Eisenhower have wanted Khrushchev to know of the flights?

We knew that the Russians had radar-tracked most if not all of the overflights, so the chances were that these last two U-2 flights would not have gone undetected. Might Eisenhower or his advisers have felt it to be to our advantage, psychologically, to have Khrushchev know, to have this very much on his mind when he arrived in Paris for the talks?

Had the flight gone off as planned, it would not have been mentioned. The two men sitting across the table from each other: Eisenhower smug in the knowledge that we could overfly Russia at will, and Khrushchev not able to do a thing about it; Khrushchev inwardly raging but unable to protest, because to do so would be to admit that his country did not have missiles capable of reaching the planes.

What a perfect setting for reopening discussions of Eisenhower’s Open Skies Plan!

In agreeing to what was already the status quo, Khrushchev would have had far more to gain than lose. And Eisenhower would climax his last year in office with a spectacular accomplishment, a major step toward disarmament.

It was all speculation. And in a sense moot, because the flight had not gone off as scheduled. Yet it interested me. This was one of a number of puzzles I hoped to solve on my return to the United States.

There was no U.S. election news on the eighth. On the ninth Moscow Radio said the results were uncertain: Kennedy was ahead, but the count was still not final.

Diary, November 10: “Very glad to hear that Kennedy will be the new President of the U.S. Hope he goes all out for peace.”

Now all I could do was what I had been doing: wait and see.

Diary, November 11: “Nothing much happened today. Managed to miss studying Russian. Kept my cellmate talking, and he forgot.”