Michael Dobbs - Down with Big Brother

Opposition to the GKChP even extended to the defense minister’s own family. His wife, Emma, had reacted to the coup with shock and dismay. Although she was recovering from a serious automobile accident, she had ordered a car to take her to the Defense Ministry, on Arbat Square, half a mile from the Kremlin. Weeping and sobbing, she had hobbled into Yazov’s office in a plaster cast.

“Dima, this means civil war. You have to stop this nightmare. Call Gorbachev.” 104

Hurt by his wife’s tears, Yazov explained gently that there was no way of communicating with the president. “Emma, please understand, I am alone.”

As they were talking, the television in the corner of the office began broadcasting the press conference by Yanayev and the other members of the GKChP. Emma wanted to know why he was not with them. By way of reply, he waved his hand dismissively in the direction of his colleagues.

“Dima, look at who you have got involved with. You always laughed at these people. Phone Gorbachev.”

The defense minister felt torn between his loyalty to the president and his loyalty to the Soviet Union, or at least his vision of it. Bluff and straightforward, he had tried to steer clear of palace intrigues. This was one reason why Gorbachev had confidence in him, despite his limited intellectual horizons and lack of a formal education. At sixty-seven he was an officer of the old school whose entire life had revolved around his military service and Communist Party membership. He had joined the army as a teenager, during World War II, and had twice been wounded at the front. Soon he would be celebrating his fifty-year jubilee with the Soviet armed forces.

Yazov could not bring himself to betray his fellow conspirators so soon after betraying Gorbachev. He ordered the military preparations for the takeover of the Russian parliament to continue.

AT THE WHITE HOUSE Yeltsin also had hardly slept the previous night. His situation looked desperate. The building was virtually undefended. Workers had practically ignored his call for an immediate general strike against the GKChP. Although there had been protest rallies here and there, most of the population seemed indifferent to what was going on in Moscow.

But the Russian president had one great advantage: He was a fighter who thrived on adversity. As both an athlete and a politician he was at his best when he was twenty points down and struggling to remain in the game. The ability to perform almost superhuman feats, interspersed with periods of prolonged idleness, is a common Russian trait, which Yeltsin possessed to an almost exaggerated degree. His burst of political activity during the coup was in marked contrast with the strange passivity of the plotters, who virtually dropped out of sight after their disastrous press conference.

When he climbed onto the tank outside the White House, Yeltsin became the symbol of democratic opposition to the new regime. By the second day of the coup he had issued a series of presidential decrees that laid the legal and constitutional basis for defying the authority of the GKChP. In quick succession he summoned the Russian parliament into extraordinary session, issued warrants for the arrest of the coup leaders, suspended the activity of the Russian Communist Party, and named himself commander in chief of all Soviet troops on the territory of Russia. The soldiers patrolling the streets of Moscow were now faced with a choice of whom to obey: Yazov or Yeltsin.

AT NOON ON TUESDAY, AUGUST 20, Soviet security chiefs gathered in the office of the deputy defense minister, Vladislav Achalov, to discuss an attack on the White House. Most of the uniformed participants at the meeting were well acquainted with one another since they had all served in Afghanistan. The Interior Ministry forces were represented by Boris Gromov, the last commander of the Soviet Fortieth Army. Sitting next to him was the paratroop commander, Pavel Grachev. The commander of the Alpha Group, Viktor Karpukhin, was wearing his combat fatigues. Also present was Valentin Varennikov, the loudmouthed commander of Soviet land forces, who had demanded Gorbachev’s resignation in Foros two days earlier.

A KGB general, Genii Ageev, opened the meeting by outlining Operation Thunder. It hinged on careful coordination among the army, the KGB, and the Interior Ministry. Grachev’s paratroopers would be responsible for establishing a security perimeter with a radius of a thousand yards around the White House. They would prevent demonstrators from entering the entire area between the Moskva River and the American Embassy. Gromov’s forces would then drive a wedge through the crowds of Yeltsin supporters who already surrounded the parliament. KGB troops, led by the Alpha Group, would move in behind the Interior Ministry forces and storm the building, firing grenade launchers as they went. A squadron of military helicopters would land on the building from the roof.

Once inside the White House, the Alpha Group would arrest the Russian leadership, shooting any resisters. Special ten-man units of KGB troops would comb the building for Yeltsin supporters. These units would include photographers, who had the task of taking pictures of White House defenders using firearms. The photographs would allow the GKChP to claim that the other side shot first.

Both Grachev and Gromov had grave doubts about the operation, but they kept their thoughts to themselves. Instead they raised practical objections, pointing out that they would have to bring more troops into Moscow in order to implement the plan worked out by the KGB. Grachev insisted that the participants in the meeting hear a report from his subordinate, General Aleksandr Lebed, who had just completed a reconnaissance mission around the White House.

“Big crowds are gathering,” Lebed told the security chiefs. “They are erecting barricades. It will be impossible to complete this operation without significant casualties. There are many armed men inside the White House.” 105

“General, it is your duty to be an optimist,” exploded Varennikov, who had been demanding Yeltsin’s arrest ever since the start of the coup. “You are bringing pessimism and uncertainty into this room.”

Like many other senior officers, Lebed felt confused and bewildered. For the past forty-eight hours, he had been caught up in an incomprehensible nightmare. On Monday, he had been instructed by Grachev to report to the White House and help organize the “defense and protection” of the building. Against whom was unclear: he did not hear about the formation of the GKChP until late Monday afternoon. He had negotiated with Yeltsin aides to station tanks around the building, with their gun barrels facing outwards. “In spite of all my efforts, I could not figure out what was going on,” he later recalled, describing his position as “humiliating.” On Tuesday morning, equally mysteriously, Grachev had instructed him to remove his tanks from the White House. “Again, I understood nothing.” It seemed to Lebed that he was taking part in some “idiotic game” straight out of the theater of the absurd. Later, he would be hailed as a hero for his role in defending the White House. But, as he wrote in his memoirs, “I was following orders when I led my troops into Moscow, and I was following orders when I led them out again.” 106

DURING THE AFTERNOON rumors of Operation Thunder began to filter down to the troops who had taken up positions around the center of Moscow. In most units the news of an imminent attack on the Russian parliament was greeted with alarm. In the day and a half since their deployment in the capital, the troops had been involved in endless debates with Muscovites about the legality of the state of emergency and the whereabouts of Gorbachev. The prospect of opening fire on their fellow Russians filled them with dread. The operation was set for 3:00 a.m. on Wednesday.