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    The Eyeball Conspiracy
    The Eyeball Conspiracy
    The Eyeball Conspiracy
    Ebook1,341 pages21 hours

    The Eyeball Conspiracy

    By Philip Bosshardt

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    About this ebook

    In October 1962, the U.S. faced down the Soviet Union over missiles in Cuba. Khrushchev removed all the missiles and warheads. But two warheads are missing. An unhappy Fidel Castro seeks retaliation and orders a Cuban special forces unit to grab two warheads and spirit them into the U.S. Now, Castro threatens America. Khrushchev offers help and JFK has no choice but to accept. A combined team, FBI and KGB working together, must find the warheads before two American cities are obliterated.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPhilip Bosshardt
    Release dateAug 13, 2014
    ISBN9781310874840
    The Eyeball Conspiracy
    Author

    Philip Bosshardt

    Philip Bosshardt is a native of Atlanta, Georgia. He works for a large company that makes products everyone uses...just check out the drinks aisle at your grocery store. He’s been happily married for over 20 years. He’s also a Georgia Tech graduate in Industrial Engineering. He loves water sports in any form and swims 3-4 miles a week in anything resembling water. He and his wife have no children. They do, however, have one terribly spoiled Keeshond dog named Kelsey.For details on his series Tales of the Quantum Corps, visit his blog at qcorpstimes.blogspot.com or his website at http://philbosshardt.wix.com/philip-bosshardt.

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      Book preview

      The Eyeball Conspiracy - Philip Bosshardt

      The Eyeball Conspiracy

      Published by Philip Bosshardt at Smashwords

      Copyright 2014 Philip Bosshardt

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Prologue

      10-22-62

      Washington, DC

      6:50 p.m.

      The door to the Oval Office opened just as Robert Fleming had finished the last check of lighting arrangements around the room. He was the pool coordinator for the White House press corps this month and the Press Secretary hadn’t given them much time to get the office ready. Fleming stood up as John Kennedy came in, grim and quiet, his hands clutching a sheaf of papers with the text of his speech.

      Good evening, Mr. President, Fleming nodded as he straightened some cabling and lay down the canvas covering over the carpeting.

      Good evening, Bob. It was plain that the President was in no mood for a light-hearted chat tonight. Normally jovial and wise-cracking before a televised speech, Kennedy quickly disappeared through a side door to the Oval Office, heading for the Cabinet Room.

      Going over the speech one more time, thought the CBS correspondent. He’d be on the air nationwide in less than ten minutes. Fleming swallowed hard and checked with the camera man and sound technician. You guys set?

      Rod Lively and Gordon Kiel nodded. There’s something on the desk that’s showing up in the camera.Could you wipe it off, Bob? Kiel had been with CBS for twenty years, maybe more. Fleming couldn’t remember. He walked over to the President’s Victorian desk, made from timbers from a 19th century ship, and ran a rag over the surface again. The desk top was bare, save for a small lectern and two mounted microphones. How’s that?

      It’s gone now. Some dust maybe.

      Fleming checked his watch. Two minutes. Where was he? Evelyn Lincoln, the President’s secretary, came into the office, just as the side door re-opened. Kennedy appeared again and went to his desk, sitting heavily in the chair. Mrs. Lincoln busied herself with primping the man for his TV appearance. She fussed with his hair for a moment, then dabbed some more makeup on his cheeks, checking silently with Gordon Kiel for satisfactory results. He nodded back and she backed away, pronouncing herself satisfied.

      One minute, Mr. President. Fleming announced. He stood off to the side and behind the cameras, studying the President’s stern look, wondering. On a flickering monitor in the back of the office, Kennedy appeared pale and drawn, yet resolute. His hands clutched the text of the speech tightly.

      Thirty seconds, Mr. President. You’ll see the lead-in on this monitor here. I’ll cue you.

      Kennedy nodded ever so slightly. He pulled nervously at the knot of a blue silk tie and cleared his throat. The swallow was audible over the whir of the cameras.

      Fleming began a hand signal countdown. President Kennedy studied the monitor to his side, out of the corner of his eye, observing Walter Cronkite’s lead-in to the address. He silently compared the grave and serious image projected by the anchorman with the image he intended to project.

      The countdown reached zero and Fleming pointed to Kennedy, silently mouthing You’re on the air, Mr. President.

      Kennedy looked up to face the red light.

      "Good evening, my fellow citizens. This Government, as promised, has maintained the closest surveillance of the Soviet military build-up on the island of Cuba. Within the past week, unmistakable evidence has established the fact that a series of offensive missile sites is now in preparation on that imprisoned island. The purposes of these bases can be none other than to provide a nuclear strike capability against the Western Hemisphere.

      "Upon receiving the first preliminary hard information of this nature last Tuesday morning at 9:00 am, I directed that our surveillance be stepped up. And having now confirmed and completed our evaluation of the evidence and our decision on a course of action, this Government feels obliged to report this new crisis to you in fullest detail.

      "The characteristics of these new missile sites indicate two distinct types of installations. Several of them include medium-range ballistic missiles capable of carrying a nuclear warhead for a distance of more than 1000 nautical miles. Each of these missiles, in short, is capable of striking Washington, D.C., the Panama Canal, Cape Canaveral, Mexico City or any other city in the southeastern part of the United States, in Central America, or the Caribbean area.

      "Additional sites not yet completed appear to be designed for intermediate-range ballistic missiles capable of traveling more than twice as far—and thus capable of striking most of the major cities in the Western Hemisphere, ranging as far north as Hudson Bay, Canada, and as far south as Lima, Peru. In addition, jet bombers, capable of carrying nuclear weapons, are now being uncrated and assembled in Cuba, while the necessary air bases are being prepared.

      "This urgent transformation of Cuba into an important strategic base—by the presence of these large, long-range, and clearly offensive weapons of sudden mass destruction—constitutes an explicit threat to the peace and security of all the Americas, flagrant and deliberate defiance of the Rio Pact of 1947, the traditions of this nation and Hemisphere, the Joint Resolution of the 87th Congress, the Charter of the United Nations, and my own public warnings to the Soviets on September 4 and 13.

      "This action also contradicts the repeated assurances of Soviet spokesmen, both publicly and privately delivered, that the arms build-up in Cuba would retain its original defensive character and that the Soviet Union had no need or desire to station strategic missiles on the territory of any other nation.

      "The size of this undertaking makes clear that it has been planned for some months. Yet only last month, after I had made clear the distinction between any introduction of ground-to-ground missiles and the existence of defensive antiaircraft missiles, the Soviet Government publicly stated on September 11 that, and I quote, ‘The armaments and military equipment sent to Cuba are designed exclusively for defensive purposes,'’and I quote the Soviet Government, ‘There is no need for the Soviet Government to shift its weapons for a retaliatory blow to any other country, for instance Cuba,’ and that, and I quote the Government, ‘The Soviet Union has so powerful rockets to carry these nuclear warheads that there is no need to search for sites for them beyond the boundaries of the Soviet Union.’ That statement was false.

      "Only last Thursday, as evidence of this rapid offensive buildup was already in my hand, Soviet Foreign Minister Gromyko told me in my office that he was instructed to make it clear once again, as he said his Government had already done, that Soviet assistance to Cuba, and I quote, ‘pursued solely the purpose of contributing to the defense capabilities of Cuba,’ that, and I quote him, ‘training by Soviet specialists of Cuban nationals in handling defensive armaments was by no means offensive,’ and that ‘if it were otherwise,’ Mr. Gromyko went on, ‘the Soviet Government would never become involved in rendering such assistance.’ That statement was also false.

      "Neither the United States of America nor the world community of nations can tolerate deliberate deception and offensive threats on the part of any nation, large or small. We no longer live in a world where only the actual firing of weapons represents a sufficient challenge to a nation’s security to constitute maximum peril. Nuclear weapons are so destructive and ballistic missiles are so swift that any substantially increased possibility of their use or any sudden change in their deployment may well be regarded as a definite threat to peace.

      "For many years, both the Soviet Union and the United States, recognizing this fact, have deployed strategic nuclear weapons with great care, never upsetting the precarious status quo which insured that these weapons would be used in the absence of some vital challenge. Our own strategic missiles have never been transferred to the territory of any other nation under a cloak of secrecy and deception; and our history, unlike that of the Soviets since the end of World War II, demonstrates that we have no desire to dominate or conquer any other nation or impose our system upon its people. Nevertheless, American citizens have become adjusted to living daily on the bull’s eye of Soviet missiles located inside the U.S.S.R. or in submarines.

      "In that sense, missiles in Cuba add to an already clear and present danger—although it should be noted the nations of Latin America have never previously been subjected to a potential nuclear threat.

      "But this secret, swift and extraordinary build-up of Communist missiles—in an area well-known to have a special and historical relationship to the United States and the nations of the Western Hemisphere, in violation of Soviet assurances, and in defiance of American and hemispheric policy—this sudden, clandestine decision to station strategic weapons for the first time outside of Soviet soil—is a deliberately provocative and unjustified change in the status quo, which cannot be accepted by this country if our courage and our commitments are ever to be trusted again by friend or foe.

      "The 1930s taught us a clear lesson: Aggressive conduct, if allowed to grow unchecked and unchallenged, ultimately leads to war. This nation is opposed to war. We are also true to our word. Our unswerving objective, therefore, must be to prevent the use of these missiles against this or any other country and to secure their withdrawal or elimination from the Western Hemisphere.

      "Our policy has been one of patience and restraint, as befits a peaceful and powerful nation, which leads a worldwide alliance. We have been determined not to be diverted from our central concerns by mere irritants and fanatics. But now further action is required—and it is underway; and these actions may only be the beginning. We will not prematurely or unnecessarily risk the costs of worldwide nuclear war in which even the fruits of victory would be ashes in our mouth—but neither will we shrink from that risk at any time it must be faced.

      "Acting, therefore, in the defense of our own security and of the entire Western Hemisphere, and under the authority entrusted to me by the Constitution as endorsed by the resolution of the Congress, I have directed that the following initial steps be taken immediately:

      "First: to halt this offensive build-up, a strict quarantine on all offensive military equipment under shipment to Cuba is being initiated. All ships of any kind bound for Cuba from whatever nation or port will, if found to contain cargoes of offensive weapons, be turned back. This quarantine will be extended, if needed, to other types of cargo and carriers. We are not at this time, however, denying the necessities of life as the Soviets attempted to do in their Berlin blockade of 1948.

      "Second, I have directed the continued and increased close surveillance of Cuba and its military build-up. The Foreign Ministers of the Organization of American States in their communique of October 3 rejected secrecy on such matters in this Hemisphere. Should these offensive military preparations continue, thus increasing the threat to the Hemisphere, further action will be justified. I have directed the Armed Forces to prepare for any eventualities; and I trust that in the interests of both the Cuban people and the Soviet technicians at the sites, the hazards to all concerned of continuing this threat will be recognized.

      "Third: it shall be the policy of this nation to regard any nuclear missile launched from Cuba against any nation in the Western Hemisphere as an attack by the Soviet Union on the United States, requiring a full retaliatory response upon the Soviet Union.

      "Fourth: As a necessary military precaution I have reinforced our base at Guantanamo, evacuated today the dependents of our personnel there, and ordered additional military units to be on a standby alert basis.

      "Fifth: We are calling tonight for an immediate meeting of the Organ of Consultation, under the Organization of American States, to consider this threat to hemispheric security and to invoke articles six and eight of the Rio Treaty in support of all necessary action. The United Nations Charter allows for regional security arrangements—and the nations of this Hemisphere decided long ago against the military presence of outside powers. Our other allies around the world have also been alerted.

      "Sixth: Under the Charter of the United Nations, we are asking tonight that an emergency meeting of the Security Council be convoked without delay to take action against the latest Soviet threat to world peace. Our resolution will call for the prompt dismantling and withdrawal of all offensive weapons in Cuba, under the supervision of United Nations observers, before the quarantine can be lifted.

      "Seventh and finally: I call upon Chairman Khrushchev to halt and eliminate this clandestine, reckless, and provocative threat to world peace and to stable relations between our two nations. I call upon him further to abandon this course of world domination and to join in an historic effort to end the perilous arms race and transform the history of man. He has an opportunity now to move the world back from the abyss of destruction—by returning to his Government’s own words that it had no need to station missiles outside its own territory, and withdrawing these weapons from Cuba—by refraining from any action which will widen or deepen the present crisis—and then by participating in a search for peaceful and permanent solutions.

      "This nation is prepared to present its case against the Soviet threat to peace, and our own proposals for a peaceful world, at any time and in any forum in the Organization of American States, in the United Nations, or in any other meeting that could be useful—without limiting our freedom of action.

      "We have in the past made strenuous efforts to limit the spread of nuclear weapons. We have proposed the limitation of all arms and military bases in a fair and effective disarmament treaty. We are prepared to discuss new proposals for the removal of tensions on both sides—including the possibilities of a genuinely independent Cuba, free to determine its own destiny. We have no wish to war with the Soviet Union, for we are a peaceful people who desire to live in peace with all other peoples.

      "But is difficult to settle or even discuss these problems in an atmosphere of intimidation. That is why this latest Soviet threat—or any other threat which is made either independently or in response to our actions this week—must and will be met with determination. Any hostile move anywhere in the world against the safety and freedom of peoples to whom we are committed—including in particular, the brave people of West Berlin--will be met by whatever action is needed.

      "Finally, I want to say a few words to the captive people of Cuba, to whom this speech is being directly carried by special radio facilities. I speak to you as a friend, as one who knows of your deep attachment to your fatherland, as one who shares your aspirations for liberty and justice for all. And I have watched and the American people have watched with deep sorrow how your nationalist revolution was betrayed and how your fatherland fell under foreign domination. Now your leaders are no longer Cuban leaders inspired by Cuban ideals. They are puppets and agents of an international conspiracy which has turned Cuba against your friends and neighbors in the Americas—and turned it into the first Latin American country to become a target for nuclear war, the first Latin American country to have these weapons on its soil.

      "Many times in the past Cuban people have risen to throw out tyrants who destroyed their liberty. And I have no doubt that most Cubans look forward to the time when they will be truly free—free from foreign domination, free to choose their own leaders, free to select their own system, free to own their own land, free to speak and write and worship without fear or degradation. And then shall Cuba be welcomed back to the society of free nations and to the associations of this Hemisphere.

      "My fellow citizens, let no one doubt that this is a difficult and dangerous effort on which we have set out. No one can foresee precisely what course it will take or what costs or casualties will be incurred. Many months of sacrifice and self-discipline lie ahead—months in which both our patience and our will be tested, months in which many threats and denunciations will keep us aware of our dangers. But the greatest danger of all would be to do nothing.

      "The path we have chosen for the present is full of hazards, as all paths are; but it is the one most consistent with our character and courage as a nation and our commitments around the world. The cost of freedom is always high—but Americans have always paid it. And one path we shall never choose, and that is the path of surrender or submission.

      Our goal is not the victory of might but the vindication of right—not peace at the expense of freedom, but both peace and freedom, here in this Hemisphere and, we hope, around the world. God willing, that goal will be achieved.

      Kennedy stared into the camera, waiting, until Fleming cued him off the air. The speech, seen by an estimated audience of 100 million, had lasted only 17 minutes. The President sat back in his chair for a moment and took a deep breath. He pulled out a handkerchief, wiped perspiration and make-up from his forehead and, to no one in particular, muttered, Well, that’s it. Unless the son of a bitch fouls up. Kennedy stood up with his text papers and headed for the Oval Office door. God help all of us.

      Eight hundred and fifty miles south of the Oval Office, sixteen F-100s of the 351st Tactical Fighter Wing out of Macdill Air Force Base, Tampa, Florida and eight F-106s of the Continental Air Defense Command out of Patrick Air Force Base near Cape Canaveral, turned in unison toward the Florida Straits and Cuba.

      On-board aircraft NE15677, an F-106 Delta Dart, Victor Flight Leader Captain Eric LaSalle, scanned the darkening southern horizon, watching for the telltale white contrails of ballistic missiles rising into a moonless night.

      CHAPTER 1

      10-23-62

      Aboard the U.S.S. Clermont (DL-6)

      The Western Atlantic

      Commander Ron Felder tossed another cigarette butt in the ash tray and stepped out of the Combat Information Center onto the bridge deck. It was cold, windy, but clear, and the seas were running three to five feet over the Clermont’s bow. The first purple fingers of dawn were tickling the eastern horizon, as Felder leaned over the railing, buttoning the top button of his jacket. He hoisted the binoculars and scanned the horizon off the destroyer’s port bow for the hundredth time, looking, watching, waiting.

      Don’t show your weasely little faces in my neck of the woods. Felder knew perfectly well that a line of Soviet freighters was less than twenty miles away. They had nothing on radar plot yet, but the Air Force had been combing this sector of the quarantine line all night with B-47s and had been tracking the two lead ships of the convoy. Felder silently muttered the names of the suspects: the Gagarin and the Komiles. The flyboys weren’t 100% sure of their ID but the data was consistent with earlier reports from last night. The track was consistent from last reported positions.

      More importantly, just after midnight, both ships were reported to have tarpaulin-covered cargo lashed to their decks.

      Felder had spent most of the last few hours in the CIC with his Exec, Lt. Commander Wally Gibby Gibson, poring over CINCLANT’s operation order and the President’s own Proclamation of Interdiction. He didn’t want any screw-ups or misunderstandings over the rules of engagement. Several times, he had fired off messages to Norfolk and to Admiral Ward aboard the Newport News, just trying to clarify matters. Ward’s last dispatch said Hold position and execute Ops Order as explained.

      Felder knew when to let well enough alone. But his stomach was still churning and several gallons of Navy coffee the last few hours hadn’t done him any good either.

      He reached for the bridge talker and rang up Radar. Mr. Gibson to the bridge. He wanted to check a few items on the Weapons Ready Sheet that bothered him. While he was waiting for Gibby, Felder mentally overlaid the windy whitecaps of the Atlantic Ocean before him with the tactical situation he had just absorbed.

      Second Fleet had assigned two task forces to the Caribbean, Task Force 135 and 136. TF-135 consisted of two attack carrier groups, built around the Enterprise and the Independence, along with an underway replenishment group and fifteen screening destroyers. This group was to take up station off Cuba’s south coast. The blockading force was to be Task Force 136, stationed in an arc 500 miles off Cuba’s easternmost point of Cape Maisi. The arc consisted of twelve destroyer stations, sixty miles apart. The northern end of the arc was anchored by the cruiser Canberra and two escorting destroyers. The southern end of the arc was anchored by Corky Ward’s flagship, the Newport News, and two more destroyers. Backing up everything was the old ASW carrier Essex and five more destroyers. Clermont had taken up station two posts south of the Canberra.

      Just then, Gibby Gibson poked his head out of the bridge and came out to see the Captain. What’s up, skipper?

      Felder pulled out a rumpled sheet from his jacket pocket. He handed it to Gibby, while he fumbled with a cigarette and lighter, shielding the flame from the wind as he tried to light up. Read. It’s last week’s maintenance on the forward 5-inch mounts. I thought we had solved that problem with the traversing track.

      Gibby read the sheet with a squint and a frown. Lieutenant Cole told me they were sliding the gun mounts just fine yesterday. I haven’t heard of any more problems, unless this is something new. I’ll check into it right away.

      Do that. We may be in combat action within a few hours. It’d be nice to have a full complement of weapons.

      Both men leaned over the railing. Gibby looked at Felder. You get any satisfaction from Ward? I’d hate to go into battle with the Russians and not be clear on the rules of engagement.

      Felder snorted. The cigarette tip glowed briefly red as he inhaled, then spat out some smoke. Admiral told me to shut up and follow orders. Of course, the orders don’t make a lot of sense to a destroyer captain. He reached into another jacket pocket and pulled out more papers. The wind nearly snatched them away. Here’s the latest wisdom from Washington… Both men scanned the telex copy of the President’s Proclamation of Interdiction.

      Several paragraphs in, Gibby began reading out loud.

      ‘The Secretary of Defense may make such regulations and issue such directives as he deems necessary to ensure the effectiveness of this order, including the designation, within a reasonable distance of Cuba, of prohibited or restricted zones and of prescribed routes.

      ‘Any vessel or craft which may be proceeding toward Cuba may be intercepted and may be directed to identify itself, its cargo, equipment, and stores and its ports of call, to stop, to lie to, to submit to visit and search, or to proceed as directed. Any vessel or craft which fails or refuses to respond to or comply with directions shall be subject to being taken into custody. Any vessel or craft which it is believed is en route to Cuba and may be carrying prohibited material shall, wherever possible, be directed to proceed to another destination of its own choice and shall be taken into custody if it fails or refuses to obey such directions. All vessels or craft taken into custody shall be sent into a port of the United States for appropriate disposition.

      ‘In carrying out this order, force shall not be used except in case of failure or refusal to comply with directions, or with regulations or directives of the Secretary of Defense issued hereunder, after reasonable efforts have been made to communicate them to the vessel or craft or in case of self-defense. In any case, force shall be used only to the extent necessary….

      Nice, huh? Felder folded the telex message back into his jacket pocket. We go head to head with the Russians on the high seas and I’m supposed to use force only to the extent necessary. Maybe they want us to just bump ‘em a little.

      Gibson shook his head. What else can we do? CINCLANT’s ops order isn’t much better.

      Felder straightened up. Let’s check positions one last time. If there’s no change in course and speed in the next half hour, we’re going to battle stations.

      The men ducked back into the CIC. Mr. Willingham, latest bearing and speed on the Gagarin.

      The radarman reported back. Contact on Gagarin still at bearing 055 degrees, speed seventeen knots, closing now to fourteen miles, sir.

      Mr. Gibson, increase our speed to twenty knots. Load warshots in the forward five-inch guns, safeties armed.

      The Exec acknowledged. Increase speed to twenty knots, aye, sir. The engine order was sent. Loading warshots in the forward five-inch now, sir.

      Very well. Felder studied the radar plot. Several contacts speckled the scope, taking data from the SPS-10 surface search radar. One was Gagarin. One was the Dearing, Clermont’s companion on the Walnut Line. Sonar, any other submerged contacts?

      Sonarman First Class Jeff McBride responded, Negative, sir. Contact Coconut One is all we have. Coconut One was a Foxtrot-class diesel Soviet boat. Both destroyers had been tracking her since just after midnight. Bearing 315, distance 22,000 yards, speed six knots.

      She screening for the Gagarin, Gibson noted.

      Felder agreed. I want to keep us between her and the freighter. He drummed fingers nervously on the console. Damn it. We need guidance from CINCLANT. Felder shook his head and squinted out the bridge forward windows, then hoisted up his binoculars again. He knew perfectly well the Soviet ships were beyond visual contact range. He punched a fist into his other hand.

      Gibby, let’s man battle stations. Advise Dearing.

      Gibson. answered, Man battle stations, aye, Captain. The Exec picked up the bridge talker and switched to the intercom. All hands, now man battle stations, all hands now man battle stations. The alarm klaxon sounded throughout the length of the destroyer.

      Re-check range and speed, Mr. Willingham.

      The radarman replied, Contact Gagarin at bearing 055, speed now fifteen knots, approaching twelve miles out.

      Weapons status, Mr. Gibson.

      Five-inch forward guns loaded, safeties armed, Captain. Mark 37 warmed up and ready. The Mark 37 was an electronic gun director for the five-inch mounts.

      Very well. Re-check position of the Komiles.

      Willingham checked the plot. Contact on Komiles at bearing 055, speed fifteen knots, range fourteen miles, sir.

      Felder stared at the pink horizon until his eyes hurt. He silently willed the Soviet ships to stop. Don’t come looking for trouble around here, my friends. But it was apparent with each check of their positions…neither ship was slowing or altering course.

      Radioman, advise Newport News that the Gagarin and the Komiles are still approaching the quarantine line. We are maneuvering to intercept.

      Aye, sir, message is being sent now.

      Mr. Gibson, prepare to signal Oscar November when the Gagarin comes over the horizon.

      Signal lanterns are ready, Captain.

      Very well. To the helmsman, he ordered, Left rudder, Mr. Miles. Bring her around to 075.

      10-23-62

      Guantanamo Bay, Cuba

      4:35 a.m.

      Corporal John Delancie gathered up the cards again amid another round of groans from Sheck and Gale. Even Sergeant Snyder was shaking his head.

      Corporal, if I’d a known you could play a hand like that with a straight face back at the Island, I’d a busted your butt on the Confidence Course but good.

      Corporal Billy Gale snorted. He’s a con, gotta be right out of Vegas or something. Check his arms and sleeves. I ain’t believin’ what I’m seein’.

      Delancie shuffled the deck with a smooth practiced hand, and a controlled smirk. It’s talent, gentlemen, that’s all. Talent and a few years at the Buckeye Club. He dealt another round for their twentieth or thirtieth game of Blackjack. Beside the makeshift plywood and sandbag table, a kerosene lamp guttered and smoked.

      I think it’s that lamp, said Sheck. See how he’s keeping it down low. The wick’s almost gone. Pour some more oil in there and see what a little light does to his luck.

      Not luck, Delancie insisted. Simply skill. We can even change the rules, if you want.

      Why bother? Gale said. They’re his cards. Betty teach you how to deal like this?

      Delancie studied his hand. Betty taught me a lot but poker and Blackjack… he shook his head with a sly smile. …I learned cards from my Dad. Now, he was a real con.

      Gale nodded. Figures. Hey, Sarge, we gonna get to call home today, like they promised? I got me an anniversary to celebrate.

      Sure, Snyder said. We’ll let you make a person-to-person call, right back to Norfolk, soon as the Hyades puts in. Even better, we’ll send a limo around. You can use General Collins’ personal office.

      Sarge, I was serious, Gale explained. For real….

      For real, we’re going on perimeter recon in two hours. Shut up and play your hand.

      I hope the ships make it before the Russkies arrive, Sheck said. All of the men had watched the evening before, as four transports dropped anchor in Guantanamo Bay, picking up wives, children and other dependents from the base. By order of the President, dependents were evacuated back to the States, even as Phibron 8 was disembarking. They were to be dropped off at Little Creek and Norfolk, courtesy of Admiral Dempsey, Commanding officer of Amphibious Training Command.

      Leave it to the Navy, said Gale. He checked his watch. They should be hitting the beaches about noon our time, I figure.

      Yeah, the lizards of 5th Brigade just lost half their combat strength. When the wives and kids go, you might as well surrender.

      Delancie was the last to put his hand on the table. It was a twenty, with a joker. Delancie shrugged, grinning. Sorry, guys.

      Snyder spat out a wad on the dirt floor of the bunker. Jesus H. Christ, man. What’s the use? Let’s play something else.

      The men of Snyder’s squad, A Company, 2nd Battalion, 2nd Marines were holed up in a tiny earthen bunker just inside the perimeter fence of the base, playing cards by the wan light of a flickering kerosene lamp. Outside, another squad had sentry duty for two more hours, then Snyder’s squad would take the handoff. It was still dark on the south coast of Cuba’s Oriente Province, sunup an hour or so away. Searchlights stabbed the black wall of forest on the horizon, several hundred yards away, outside the triple fencing and concertina wire barrier of the base perimeter. Fifty feet from the bunker, a TPS-50 radar mast swung around, painting the sky with electromagnetic fingers, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

      All the men of Rat Squad, A Company, knew perfectly well that two infantry brigades of Fidel Castro’s Eastern Army, were holed up in the forests just beyond the man-made clearing.

      By order of Brigadier General Collins, the commanding officer of the Marine contingent at Gitmo, the men were on high alert. They had only disembarked from Phibron 8’s troopship a few hours before. Two days ago, they had been preparing for their part in the annual Marine exercise Phibriglex-62, stocking up for a practice assault on the beaches of Vieques Island, off Puerto Rico. Now, they were holed up in a tiny bunker in a corner of the Worker’s Paradise. Along the back wall, M-14s were stashed, magazines loaded, safeties on. The squad’s M-60 machine gun and M-79 grenade launcher were nearby, also loaded. There was nervous laughter around the card table.

      So you want to change the rules? Delancie asked. Not that it’ll do you any good.

      Gale had an idea. What about this? He pulled up closer to the table, grabbed a few loose cards. We change the rules just slightly. You got ten cards, right? Plus the Kings and Queens and Jokers, and so forth. Give each card a number, a probability, like say 5 per cent.

      Probability for what?

      Hell, how do I know? Probability we go into action tomorrow. Probability we get nuked. Each card gets a probability, see. Whoever wins has to total all his probabilities.

      Snyder laughed. Gale, you’re a real genius.

      What have we got to lose? asked Sheck. The men spent a few minutes dickering over how and what to assign to each card. Snyder recorded the details on a scrap of packing paper.

      Deal.

      Delancie gathered up the cards again, cut the deck a few times, and dealt. The round started with Gale taking a card, then folding with a 16. Sheck was more adventurous, taking cards in several rounds. Eventually he plopped down an 18.

      Snyder and Delancie were left. Each took another card. Their faces revealed nothing but traces of melting camou paint and the red glow of the lamp. Finally, Delancie yielded, dropping an 18.

      Snyder yelped with glee. He slammed down a twenty, with two jokers. Finally! he said. There is justice in the world.

      You gotta add up the numbers, Gale reminded him. Call ‘em out.

      Gale kept a tally while the adding was going on. When they were done, Gale sucked in a whistle and grimaced. Nice going, Sarge. The probabilities add up to ninety per cent.

      Shit. So that means a ninety per cent chance we go to war tomorrow?

      Delancie got up and stretched, tucking in a shirt tail. Don’t mean nothing, gentlemen. It’s just a game.

      There was a bit of nervous laughter around the table, as Snyder flipped over card after card. What say we go back to the normal rules of blackjack?

      Sheck and Gale both agreed. Delancie’s blackjack or nuclear war…what a choice.

      Yeah, we lose our butts either way.

      10-23-62

      Moscow

      6:00 p.m.

      A bitterly cold wind flecked with ice crystals whipped and snapped the hammer and sickle flag atop the Kremlin’s Senatskaya Tower as Nikita Sergeyevich Khrushchev eased his bulk out of the ZIL limousine. Two sentries of the Kremlin Kommendatura stood at attention, as the Chairman of the Council of Ministers of the U.S.S.R. and First Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union slipped into the doorway of the Council of Ministers building. Two floors up on the Chairman’s private elevator, the Chairman exited onto a burgundy-carpeted corridor lined with gilded mirrors and statuary. He paused at a bust of Lenin, outside the Presidium meeting room.

      You’re looking a little tired and pale these days, Vladimir Ilyich. Perhaps a mineral bath or a trip to the spa would do you some good. Or maybe just a few hours in the Presidium room, ducking barbed comments from our Bolshevik colleagues. I recommend it as exercise…really gets the blood going.

      Sourly, Khrushchev opened the door and went in.

      The Presidium was in its usual state of uproar, called into full session only two hours earlier. Gromyko had phoned Khrushchev at his apartment in the Lenin Hills with the news. President Kennedy was blockading Cuba and threatening world war. Khrushchev had told Andrei Vladimirovich to calm down – he could just imagine the man’s bulging eyes on the phone—not to worry, comrade, we’ll get the Presidium together and decide how to teach the youngster another lesson. After he had hung up, Khrushchev had called his personal secretary, Fyodor Bykovsky, up to the top floor study of his suite.

      Call the Presidium members, Fyodor Illych. Tell them to meet me at the Kremlin by 6:00 p.m. Bykovsky turned to go, but Khrushchev called him back. And get General Mitronov on the line right now. He paced before the huge picture window, seeing the spires and red star of the Kremlin towers in the distance. Mitronov was the Commandant of the Kremlin, responsible for security. I want the entire second floor of the Ministers Building emptied. Nobody there but the Presidium and Mitronov’s men. He jammed his hands in the pockets of his suit jacket. We may be there all night.

      Khrushchev nodded brusquely to the assembled elite of the Party as he came into the Presidium meeting room. A rectangular space dominated by a vast mahogany table inlaid with green baize, the room was otherwise spare. Mahogany wainscoting wrapped the walls, setting off the usual portraits of Lenin, Marx and Engels. Somewhere in the corner, steam shrouded a stainless steel cart that had been wheeled into the room, covered with bottles of vodka and several steaming samovars, along with plates of salted fish, caviar and an assortment of fruits and vegetables. Seat by seat, the cart made its way around the table. The waiter paused at the door, while Khrushchev helped himself to one of the vodka bottles.

      Comrades, I apologize for the short notice, said the First Secretary. He took his usual seat at the head of the table, plopping a small leather satchel down next to the vodka. He continued, pouring himself a finger of the Ukrainian liquid. Our American friends seem to have discovered what Operation Anadyr is all about. He held up the tiny glass, then downed it in a single gulp. Na zdorovie. He poured himself some more and sat down heavily. We must decide our course of action tonight."

      They were all present, of course, many of them rousted from dinners, receptions, parties and other engagements. Khrushchev scowled as he scanned the group. Brezhnev, Suslov, Mikoyan…the cautious group. Malinovsky, Gromyko, Shelepin of the KGB, much more forceful and aggressive. And not to forget the swing group: Ponomarev, Kosygin, Podgorny, Rashidov, and Kozlov. Mindless sheep, Khrushchev thought. And Kozlov thinks he will succeed me. We’ll soon see about that.

      Malinovsky spoke up, gruff and gravelly-voiced, medals swinging from his Marshal’s uniform. We must decide, comrades, tonight, how to respond to Kennedy’s ultimatum and the blockade. Clearly, this is an act of war.

      Mikhail Suslov, tall and ascetic, an American Marlboro dangling from his lips, disagreed. Rodion Yakovlevich, it’s not so simple as that. We can’t just press the nuclear button every time Kennedy jabs a thorn in our side.

      Malinovsky hunched forward over some papers bearing the Defense Ministry seal. It’s urgent that we decide soon. There are at present two freighters carrying equipment for the R-12 missile sites bearing down on the blockade line. The Gagarin and the Komiles. They are urgently requesting instructions. Should we stop, reverse course, or run the blockade? This question is upon us now, and events will force the matter within the hour. Already, the American Navy has ships, destroyers I am told, within visual range of the Gagarin.

      Gromyko asked, Who is the captain of the Gagarin?

      Malinovsky consulted some notes. First Captain Sokolovsky commands the ship. A veteran from our Merchant Marine…he has made two runs to Cuba already. Sokolovsky is requesting permission to take evasive action. He’s already armed his five-inch guns and antiaircraft systems.

      It’s clear, said Gromyko, that Kennedy is mad. Blockading a country is an act of war. Or perhaps, piracy, if you like. We mustn’t let him get away with this. Our Soviet ships have the right to go wherever they please, the same rights to navigation in international waters as anyone, even the Americans.

      Khrushchev sipped at the spertsem, as he followed the arguments back and forth. Mentally, he made notes, tallying up who would side with whom. For the moment, he remained quiet. He wanted to get the sense of the Presidium’s thinking before committing to a course of action.

      Suslov shook his head. The Americans respond like capitalists. They prefer to build their empires of money, ignoring the legitimate needs of the working class. They won’t fight unless their empires are threatened. When they do feel threatened, of course, they’ll fight like mad dogs. But even a mad dog can be distracted by throwing him enough bones. He was doodling on a piece of paper as he spoke. Suslov looked up from his doodles, fingered his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. Nikita Sergeyevich, I say we throw the dogs a few bones. Socialism is advancing everywhere around the world. This we know from the facts we see. Cuba, itself is the best example. Is it better to have a socialist Cuba and leave the American dogs alone or kick at the dogs with our feet, and fight over scraps in a world of smoking ruins?

      Gromyko slammed a fist on the table. Mikhail Andreyevich, Kennedy called me a liar yesterday! He said the Soviet Government had lied. He said this to the whole world.

      Suslov shrugged. Kennedy cannot lie about the fact of revolutionary Cuba. He cannot wish Castro away, though he would like to, I’m sure. He has already lied himself, and seen those lies shot down at the Bay of Pigs. So tell me, Andrei Vladimirovich, when a proven liar calls you a lair, are you really so concerned?

      Khrushchev rubbed his eyes. Comrades, this is getting us nowhere. He saw a hand flash up out of the corner of his eyes. Leonid Illych, you have a comment?

      Brezhnev steepled his hands on the table in front of him. His bushy eyebrows lowered. The plain fact is that we are outmanned and outgunned in the Caribbean. Isn’t that true, Comrade Defense Minister?

      Malinovsky frowned. His jaw quivered. If we adhere to this blockade, this quarantine, as the Americans call it, we will be seen by Communists everywhere as capitulating to the enemy. The Chinese already are making trouble, saying we’ve gone astray from the course of Marx and Lenin. I say we run the blockade and call Kennedy’s bluff.

      Mikoyan spoke up. Just exactly what forces are the Americans assembling?

      Malinovsky consulted his notes again. At noon today, our time, there were over a hundred and fifty ships of their Navy in and around Cuba. I have intelligence from the rezidentura in Washington, thanks to Comrade Shelepin here, indicating the carriers Independence, Enterprise, and Essex, have taken up station in the waters around Cuba. In addition, the Americans have augmented their battalion at the Guantanamo Base, with approximately 6000 more Marines. They have moved large numbers of aircraft to staging bases in the southeastern part of their country, as well as moving units of the 1st Armored Division and several airborne divisions to ready positions. Finally, the American Strategic Air Command has now two-thirds of its long-range bomber force in the air, on continuous alert. These bombers, B-47s and B-52s, carry megaton-size atomic warheads. Their alert patterns bring the bombers to pre-set launch points at some distance from our borders, where the bombers are held until authorized to proceed. The remaining one-third of the bomber force is on fifteen-minute alert at various bases around the United States. Malinovsky paused, while shuffling through his papers. Finally, he found what he was looking for. Comrades, we have another bit of intelligence from our sources…it seems that the top American military command, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, will issue a notice tonight…we already have a draft of the notice ourselves…advising all American forces around the world to set Defense Condition Three. Defcon Three causes the American strategic nuclear forces to increase their alert status. Several additional steps are taken to ready their atomic devices for use.

      Mikoyan snorted. And facing this military force, you advise running the blockade and calling Kennedy’s bluff? I am not so sure who is really the madman here.

      Gromyko said, Anastas Iossifarionich, we are not exactly defenseless ourselves, you know. If Kennedy wants to play with fire, he should get his fingers burned a little.

      Exactly, Khrushchev said. We could send more submarines into the Atlantic, could we not? Perhaps even fire a warning shot at an American ship, to disable her, not to sink her. We have many ways to getting our message across without resorting to atomic war.

      Malinovsky added, I think we should issue orders to ready a small squadron of our Foxtrot-class submarines. A contingency plan, if you like. It will take several hours for the submarines to be made ready for sea. Nearly a week to reach the Caribbean. We have submarines shielding our freighters now. I have given a standing order to all commanders to maintain maximum battle readiness.

      So we are prepared to shoot back, Brezhnev said, but are we prepared to begin the shooting? That is the issue we have not decided.

      Comrades, I suggest we agree at least to raise our defense readiness. To at least category two, to match the Americans’ Defcon Three.

      There was general assent to the Marshal’s advice. Khrushchev scribbled a note to himself.

      Mikoyan was massaging his thin black moustache. We shouldn’t do anything to provoke the Americans now.

      Gromyko slapped his own forehead in exasperation. Ya zaby’l, Comrade Anastas, I had almost forgotten that you have no education beyond that of a horse’s ass.

      Mikoyan turned florid and half rose in his seat. Khrushchev motioned him down with a flick of the wrist. The arguments flared again, militarists versus the crybabies, and Khrushchev wearily removed his pince-nez frames and rubbed his eyes. A long night ahead of us, I can see that already.

      Throughout the debate, Khrushchev had been strangely silent. He knew that Kennedy had already called his bluff and raised the stakes. Five months ago, he had sat in this very seat and described how Operation Anadyr would create new objective conditions in the conflict with the Americans. In glowing terms, he had read from the plan authored by Gribkov, relating how with a single bold stroke, he would change the balance of power and help their Cuban colleagues fend off another American attack. Nuclear missiles only ninety miles away, able to reach all of North America in minutes, just as the Americans had ringed their country with the same missiles.

      Now Kennedy will know what it is like to toss and turn at night thinking thoughts of Armageddon.

      And they had applauded him in this very room. A daring and brilliant plan, Nikita Sergeyevich! A master stroke of strategy! A bold move, worthy of Lenin himself!

      Khrushchev snorted at the thought. Puppies flocking to their milk. And now that the Americans had discovered the plan, half of them wanted to turn around and run back to the Motherland with their tails tucked. But I know this young man Kennedy. Younger than my own son.…

      Your mouth is moving, Nikita Sergeyevich, but there are no words. Mikoyan smiled quizzically at his old Party mentor. Please…

      Comrades, I have some suggestions. Of course, we will never back down to Kennedy’s threats and intimidations. But perhaps, some quieter discussions, out of the glare of world opinion, may be useful. I have in mind a more private channel.

      Shelepin nodded knowingly. We have several operatives in the Embassy who have high-level contacts. I’ll get you their names.

      In addition, Khrushchev went on, we must prepare for action if action is needed. To Malinovsky, Comrade Marshal, we should be prepared to move in Berlin if the situation warrants. Our forces are ready?"

      I have ordered Marshal Koniev to increase readiness as of this very morning. Additional tank and artillery regiments from the 75th Guards Army are moving into position even now.

      Good. And we should send additional ships into the Atlantic. Let the Americans confront the might of our Soviet Navy on the high seas.

      This is rather provocative, Nikita Sergeyevich, is it not? Brezhnev looked around the table for support. Perhaps now we should be of cooler heads, not letting Kennedy drive us into rash decisions.

      Khrushchev reddened angrily as arguments flew around the table. He glared bullets at Brezhnev, who avoided his stare. This bear already has one foot in the tent, he told himself. The time has come to set bait for a trap.

      Khrushchev held up his hands. Comrades, comrades, please. The uproar died down a bit. Enough. Let’s sleep on the matter for a few hours. I suggest you all stay over in your Kremlin apartments tonight. If our enemies see limousines coming and going at all hours of the evening, they’ll surely be suspicious.

      Malinovsky said, We must send instructions to our ships before we leave. They are at the blockade line now.

      Very well, Comrade Marshal, I propose this to the Presidium: I will issue an order directing that all Soviet ships approaching the blockade line are to stop and hold position for now. They are to resist by all means necessary any attempts to board and inspect their cargo. Khrushchev brandished a fist in the air. We must not let our rocket technology fall into American hands. He watched the faces of the Presidium members, looking for any signs of dissent. Is this acceptable to the Presidium?

      There were murmurs of agreement around the table.

      Very well. In addition, Khrushchev rose from his seat and stood at the end of table, I have been making some notes while we debate. I will dictate a brief letter for Comrade Fidel Castro tonight, for overnight transmission to Havana, through our Embassy. In this letter, I will detail what we are doing in response to the Kennedy speech, what we are doing to counter this brazen act of piracy. Khrushchev pounded the table for emphasis.

      We must be a firm hand behind our fraternal Cuban comrades in this dangerous hour.

      10-24-62

      Havana

      7:30 a.m.

      Gusting rain squalls lashed the old seawall of Havana’s Malecon Wednesday morning, crashing against the stone and rock barrier, drenching fruit stands and coastal defense batteries alike, as the tropical storm scudded low across northwest Cuba.At first light, residents of La Habana Vieja were out on the streets, picking up tree limbs, pieces of plaster, roof shingles and other debris blown about by the storm. October had been a particularly nasty month for weather in the West Indies; Havanistas were still picking up from Daisy when this latest storm had blown in from the Antilles, dumping torrential rains and high winds on the pearl of the Indies.

      Already, lines had formed outside the markets from the old colonial quarter to Miramar, la cola the queues were known locally, as residents stocked up on the remaining scraps of bread and milk and cooking oil. Last night, Fidel himself had gone on television and the radio stations, warning of Yanqui treachery and threats. The Presidente had issued a high-level alert, just before 6:00 pm, an alarma de combate, and the people were worried. President Kennedy threatens us with war, Fidel had thundered, but he knows we are well armed. We have armed ourselves against our wishes, because we were forced to strengthen our military defenses on pain of endangering the sovereignty of our nation and the independence of our country.

      Within two hours, the markets were depleted.

      Several miles away, in the quarter named Vedado, lightning crackled over the Plaza de la Revolucion, lighting up the moss-draped stone face of the old Memorial Jose Marti. Under the stern and unyielding gaze of El Libertador, a long and massively columned building bordered one side of the plaza, giving on its opposite side to a view of the Avenida de la Independencia. All along the avenida, fierce storm winds bent the craggy royal palm trees almost to the ground. Pedestrians scurried for cover, from one building to another. Early morning shoppers mixed with militiamen huddling against stone walls, seeking any shelter from the ravages of the storm.

      A hundred feet below the plaza, the rain and wind were only distant rumbles. In the subterranean interrogation chambers of the former Ministry of Justice building, the Commandante en Jefe paced nervously around the map table, sucking and chewing loudly on a cigar stub. Fidel Castro Ruz paused briefly at one end of the table, tossed away one cigar he had been chewing for the last hour and promptly inserted a fresh one in the corner of his mouth. He tucked his green fatigue shirt in his trousers for the hundredth time and rapped on the map with his knuckles.

      Kennedy will not be so foolish this time, comrades. I’m telling you, it’s Puerta Esperanza, Mariel and Matanzas we have to worry about. The Yanquis will send their Marines against our northwest beaches. He bent over the map, dribbling some tobacco juice into the Gulf of Mexico near Florida. Playa Giron was a terrible mistake, a stupid military move and he knows it. No, the Americans aren’t stupid. They won’t be coming ashore at the Bay of Pigs again.

      Major Sergio del Valle, chief of the General Staff, stood rigidly still at the other end of the map table. His black moustache twitched. Commandante, we are well prepared this time. Ask the Minister. He indicated the other man standing midway between the two of them.

      Minister of the FAR (Fuerzas Armadas Revolutionarias) Raul Castro crossed his arms and nodded gravely. He’s right, Fidel. We have deployed well this time.

      Fidel Castro started pacing again, circling and circling the map table, as a vulture orbits its killed prey. He had been up all night, edgy, hyper, nervous from his speech to the nation. But you agree, don’t you, that these three beaches are the likely assault points? See here…all three are near Havana and the bulk of our population. All are flat and wide, shallow in approach, with plenty of hard ground nearly. Not like the swamps that trapped the Gironistas last year. Our own experience and our own intelligence sources point this way. We must reinforce, now.

      Commandante, we have regiments at all three locations. Del Valle said.

      Which regiments? How many?

      Del Valle moved to the map. At Matanzas, we have a cavalry regiment, the Fifth Mechanized, and five squadrons of the Guardia Rural. They are equipped and trained in our new BTR-40 fighting vehicles. Also, two infantry battalions: the Seventh and the Twenty-first are based here. At Pinar del Rio, Del Valle’s hand swept to Cuba’s westernmost province, we have another cavalry regiment, four infantry battalions, and six squadrons of the Guardia Rural. Bridging the gap, and able to swing east or west as events dictate, we have combined several regiments at Camp Columbia. Now there are four infantry, the Sixth, the Seventh, the Thirtieth and the Eighteenth, plus a cavalry regiment. You reviewed these regiments just last month.

      Fidel Castro studied the terrain and the map icons carefully. I remember. Go on.

      Del Valle continued. In addition, at La Cabana Fortress, we have stationed three coastal artillery battalions, one field and two mountain batteries, and a company each of sappers, signalmen, and railway troops.

      Where is the armor, Sergio? I don’t see any tank units.

      Del Valle unfolded an envelope containing armored unit icons and spread them out on the edge of the map. We are re-deploying now, even as we speak. In Pinar del Rio… he placed three of the icons, three regiments fully equipped and trained in our new T-62s. Del Valle placed more icons around the map. In Matanzas, two regiments, one T-62, one T-55. And in the Havana area, four regiments, two of them T-62, the rest T-54s.

      Castro seemed satisfied. Excellent, Sergio. Don’t you think so, Raul?

      Raul Castro nodded. Outstanding staff work, Major. The General Staff is to be commended. What about the SAMs, the SA-2 sites we are manning? Are they operational? Are they on this map?

      Del Valle said, They are, Comrade Minister. Here, he pointed to a small rocket icon in western Cuba, at Artemisa, four batteries, four launchers, with eight missiles each. Also at Santa Clara, here, and at Camaguey and Holguin. The sites are all four-battery installations. Incidentally, we are still in training at the Holguin site. Our Russian friends haven’t released live missiles to us yet, but they will within the week.

      I will speak with General Pliyev about that, Raul commented. Cooperation with the Russians has generally gone well. But they still insist on limiting the number of Cubans who work at the missile sites. Some incidents have occurred, but they’ve been resolved.

      Fidel paced around the room again. He could not stay motionless for more than a few minutes. Yes, yes, that was part of the original agreement, I remember. Still, we are a sovereign nation. We have the right to defend ourselves. The training should be speeded up. We will be at war in a few days.

      Raul located a pointer and tapped the map at Mariel and Havana. The Americans will assault us from the air, and from the beaches. We have to be ready for them. DGI has agents in the States, reporting on movements of military units. And the Russians have been sharing some intelligence with us. We know the 101st is staging from Kentucky. Also the 82nd Airborne at Fort Bragg. The 1st Armored is already at Fort Stewart, Georgia. And the Marines are reinforcing at Guantanamo.

      We are doing the same?

      Yes, Commandante, we have one cavalry and four infantry regiments at Santiago, ready to block any move by the Marines out of the Guantanamo area.

      Fidel Castro stopped at a wall map depicting the United States and the western Atlantic. It was covered with ship icons. I know they are coming, Raul. I can feel it. Kennedy wants me dead, he wants the gangsters back in power. We can’t let the Revolution down.

      Raul tossed his pointer on the map table. Patria o muerte, Fidel. It’s been this way since we stepped off Granma. You know that.

      Fidel rubbed his eyes wearily, laying his thick glasses on the table. Si, I know. I know. Venceremos…we will overcome them. But…is there more we can do?. I keep thinking…there must be more….

      His musings were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Raul Castro opened it and an aide, Subteniente Guzman stuck his head in.

      Excuse me, Commandante. Capitan Rafael Ramirez is here on appointment. He is in your office.

      Fidel Castro retrieved his glasses and tucked his fatigues shirt in again. I’ll be right there, Guzman. To Del Valle and Raul: Keep at it, comrades. I doubt Kennedy will give us more than a day or so. He left and went to his office at the end of hall.

      In the anteroom, he found FAR Capitan Rafael Ramirez standing by an oil portrait of the Granma, the small boat that had borne the first revolutionaries from exile in Mexico to the beaches of Oriente province so many years and battles ago. Ramirez was tall and lean, almost emaciated. He had a full black beard and moustache. His face, though young, was pocked with several knife scars from an adventurous childhood. He wore the tan fatigues of the General Staff, and a chestful of medals.

      Castro’s face lightened up. Capitan Ramirez, welcome. Welcome. After Ramirez saluted, the men shook hands. Please, Castro opened the door to his office, "come in

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