Francis Powers - Operation Overflight

I didn’t believe that. Nor for a moment.

Following the excitement, reaction set in.

Diary, January 3: “Having a sinking spell in my thoughts. I suppose my chances of being released soon are better than they were, but I am too unimportant a person for anyone to worry about me. My release depends on the whims of men who could not care less what happens to me or to any single person. They think in millions, not in ones. Made over five-hundred envelopes today.”

Using up my two-hundred-and-fifty-envelope quota was a nervous response. I paid for it immediately.

January 4: “Ran out of paper for making envelopes today. No more available, so can’t make any.”

January 5: “Has been a very bad day for me. Have been very depressed most of the day. Took bath and was supposed to get a haircut, but barber didn’t show up.”

Journal: “A prisoner never gives up hope. He is always waiting for some miracle to happen. There would probably be a lot more trouble in prisons if this were not so…. A person would go completely crazy in prison if there wasn’t, in the back of his mind, this hope of getting out, some way or the other.”

We got the haircuts on the seventh.

On the ninth we were visited again by the major. I asked outright how my chances looked. He replied that things would go well for me if Kennedy made a policy of having better relations with the USSR.

This time I didn’t try to hide my excitement. One thing I had learned about the Communists, particularly the KGB, was that no one ever ventured a personal opinion. Every statement was prefaced by the collective we . “We think…” We feel…,”I was never told anything that Moscow hadn’t approved, that wasn’t the official line. The major wouldn’t have ventured this much unless he had some assurance that prospects were good.

January 11: “I don’t think I have mentioned it before, but ever since May 1 I have had a constant high-frequency ringing in my ears. It was lower than usual this evening.”

January 13: “Excellent news today. The colonel (regional KGB, from Vladimir) told me that my release from prison depended wholly upon how Kennedy reacted to the toast of Khrushchev on New Year’s Eve. I certainly hope that Kennedy in his speech on the twentieth will come out very strong for good relations and easing the tension in the world. Hope he repeats what he said during the campaign, about apologizing for the flight, etc.”

January 15: “Started reading Ben-Hur . I finished all I can do to the carpet this morning. I hope I am able to deliver it in person to the States soon. I feel fairly certain that February will see me free, but there is always the possibility of it not happening. I refuse to think about that. Potatoes for supper,”

I was rather proud of the carpet. It measured twenty-one by twenty-eight inches; had six colors in the pattern—light and dark green, tan, red, pink, and black; and contained over thirteen-thousand crosses, each cross formed by pushing the needle through four times. I estimated it had taken about three hundred hours. At least I would have something to show for the time I had spent in Russia.

Letter to Barbara, January 16: “I have great hope of something very important happening soon. I don’t want to build up your hopes, but it is entirely possible that I could be released in the near future. I am placing much hope on the attitude of Kennedy toward better relations with the Soviet Union, which I think he will try to improve. If his attitude is favorable, then my chances are very good.”

Citing Khrushchev’s toast and his intention to pass over the incident, I noted, “in order for the incident to pass and be forgotten, it would be necessary for me to leave prison. I hope they haven’t forgotten that part of the incident and the fact that I am still here….

“These are optimistic hopes, and are far from certainties. I hope they aren’t too optimistic, and I hope by the time this letter reaches you that we both will have heard something or, better still, will have seen each other on that side of the Atlantic. If we haven’t heard by that time, then these were only wishful thoughts.”

After mentioning that I had finished her anniversary gift, and hoped to deliver it in person, I closed with some pessimistic thoughts: “In a way I suppose it is very stupid of me to have any hopes of being released soon. If it doesn’t happen, I will be extremely disappointed, so I should not allow myself to get into the position of being disappointed.”

Diary, January 18: “About -20°C. My cellmate and I only take one walk when it is this cold. It is almost impossible to crumble bread for the pigeons at this temperature. The hands get numb after a few seconds. One can not stand still, either, or the feet freeze.”

January 19: “Tomorrow—the day of Kennedy’s speech. I won’t find out about it until twenty-first, twenty-second, or twenty-third. My fate depends on what he says.”

January 20: “Long-awaited day. Hope Kennedy comes out with some positive statements in my favor. He can certainly do me much good if only he sincerely tries to lessen tension….”

January 22: “Part of Kennedy’s speech was in today’s Pravda . My cellmate said it couldn’t be better for me. Also he said that Khrushchev had gone to visit Ambassador Thompson which could be a good omen. Potatoes for supper.”

January 23: “Kennedy failed to say anything about the U-2 flights, etc. It could help me very much if he took a favorable attitude on this question. I am sure he will have to commit himself soon, probably at his first press conference. Potatoes.”

The following day brought a big surprise: ninety-two Christmas cards!

Nearly all were from the San Francisco Bay area. On December 12, San Francisco Chronicle columnist Herb Caen had written: “While you’re making out your Christmas cards, you might remember to send one to Francis Gary Powers, c/o American Embassy, Moscow, USSR. Let him know that U-2 haven’t forgotten.”

This was my real Christmas. For the first time I received mail that hadn’t been opened and read. The sheer volume had apparently caused the censor to mutter the Russian equivalent of “To hell with it”; more than half the letters had been passed on unopened.

Several teachers had asked their classes to write me; the compositions were extremely moving. One class had sent a little package of various odds and ends from their pockets which they wanted to share with me. Included were several pieces of bubblegum.

Zigurd, who had never seen bubblegum, watched in amazement as I popped a huge bubble. Try as he might, however, he was unable to do it himself. We used all the pieces in the attempt.

On January 26, when I had just awakened and was getting out of bed, the news came over the radio: the two RB-47 pilots had been freed!

I was tremendously happy, for them and for what this portended for me. According to the Soviet account, the pilots had been released in return for Kennedy’s promise there would be no more overflights.

Finally that fear could be put aside.

Diary, same day: “I have much hope. Visited by KGB colonel from region of Vladimir. Wanted to know if I had any questions and said that my position was much better than before. Said he was very optimistic. Cabbage for supper.”

Writing to Barbara, I asked her to send a thank-you letter to Herb Caen, “if you can spare the time.” I also noted that perhaps it was unwise for us to get our hopes up. After all, the RB-47 boys had never been brought to trial and sentenced while I had.

Diary, January 27: “More news about the release of the other two, but not one word about me.”

On the twenty-eighth, Radio Moscow reported that President Kennedy had been on hand to meet the two fliers on their arrival at Andrews Air Force Base.