Body of Secrets: Anatomy of the Ultra-Secret National Security Agency (8 page)

As he did
with the bomber overflights, Eisenhower played a major role in the planning for
each mission. "He would sometimes cut out particular legs or say, 'Well,
don't go from A to B to C, go from A to C,' " according to Bissell.

In
Peshawar, Powers looked at his watch. The mission was now almost a half-hour
behind schedule. He had never before had to wait so long for final clearance
from the White House. In fact, Eisenhower had already given the mission a
thumbs-up, but because of radio problems the message had not gotten through to
the operations officer in Peshawar.

Although
much attention would later be focused on the U-2s' photo role, the planes'
eavesdropping missions, codenamed Green Hornet, were equally important. A U-2's
intercept equipment, known as System-V, was installed in the bay that normally
housed the main camera. It consisted of sophisticated electronic receivers and
large-capacity recorders that used Mylar tape. Scores of antennas, like small
blades, were attached to the fuselage, each dedicated to particular frequency
bands. Powers's first eavesdropping mission took the plane along the Soviet
border from the Black Sea to the Caspian Sea and on to Afghanistan. According
to a CIA report, "the System-V unit worked well."

Soon after
his assignment to Adana, Turkey, Powers began flying Green Hornet missions.
"We usually flew from Turkey eastward along the southern border of the
Soviet Union," he recalled, "over Iran and Afghanistan as far as
Pakistan, and back. We also flew along the Black Sea, and, on occasion, as far
west as Albania, but never penetrating, staying off the coast, over
international waters. . . . Since these 'eavesdropping' missions were
eventually to become fairly frequent, there was a tendency to minimize their
importance, but in many ways they were as valuable as the overflights, the data
obtained enabling the United States to pinpoint such things as Russian
antiaircraft defenses and gauge their effectiveness."

On the top
of the priority list, according to Powers, were Soviet space and missile
launches which normally took place at night and, from the altitude of the U-2,
"were often spectacular," he said. "The equipment we carried on
such occasions was highly sophisticated. One unit came on automatically the
moment the launch frequency was used and collected all the data sent out to
control the rocket. The value of such information to our own scientists was
obvious." Indeed it was. The U-2's ability to soar thirteen miles high
along the Soviet border gave it a unique ability to eavesdrop on telemetry data
during the earliest phases of the flight. The U-2, said one CIA report at the
time, "possesses altitude capabilities which make it a unique platform for
the reliable acquisition of high quality telemetry data prior to first stage
burnout on Tyuratam [missile center] launchings. Such data is of extreme
importance in determining ICBM characteristics."

Finally,
the link from Washington to Peshawar was made. Colonel William Shelton, the
detachment chief, leaped from the radio van and ran across the field to give
Powers the hand signal for takeoff. It would be the twenty-fourth U-2
overflight of the Soviet Union, and the last.

Powers
locked his canopy from the inside, turned on the pressurization system, and
pulled back hard on the throttle, sending the plane into a steep climb, a
roller-coaster ride up to the blue-black curve of space. Below passed the
barren dusty-brown landscape of Afghanistan and the peaks of the Hindu Kush,
spiking through the thin cloud cover like daggers. An hour later, reaching
penetration altitude of 66,000 feet, he passed over the Soviet border, high
above the village of Kirovabad in the remote Tadjik Republic. Oddly, Powers
felt the Russians knew he was coming.

In this,
he was perceptive. Soviet radar had begun tracking the plane before it ever
reached the border. Immediately, an alert was telephoned to command
headquarters and air defense staff officers were summoned to their posts.

In still-darkened
Moscow, gaily decorated for the grand May Day celebration, a telephone rang
next to Party Chairman Khrushchev's bed. "Minister of Defense Marshal
Malinovsky reporting," said the voice on the other end. Malinovsky told
his boss that a U-2 had crossed the border from Afghanistan and was flying in
the direction of Sverdlovsk, in central Russia. "Shoot down the plane by
whatever means," barked the Soviet leader. "If our antiaircraft units
can just keep their eyes open and stop yawning long enough," he added,
"I'm sure we'll knock the plane down." The days of protest were over.
"We were sick and tired of these unpleasant surprises—sick and tired of
being subjected to these indignities," Khrushchev later wrote. "They were
making these flights to show up our impotence. Well, we weren't impotent any
longer."

But Powers
was in luck. A missile battalion more than a dozen miles below was not on alert
duty that day. A missile launch was considered but then rejected as unfeasible.
Instead, fighter aircraft were scrambled in an attempt to shoot down the plane.
"An uncomfortable situation was shaping up," recalled former Soviet
Air Force colonel Alexander Orlov, who was involved in air defense at the time.
"The May Day parade was scheduled to get underway at mid-morning, and
leaders of the party, the government, and the Armed Forces were to be present
as usual. In other words, at a time when a major parade aimed at demonstrating
Soviet military prowess was about to begin, a not-yet-identified foreign
aircraft was flying over the heart of the country and Soviet air defenses
appeared unable to shoot it down."

"Shame!"
Khrushchev screamed at Marshal S. S. Biryuzov, the chief of the Air Defense
Forces. "The country was giving air defense everything it needs, and still
you cannot shoot down a subsonic aircraft!" Biryuzov had no excuses.
"If I could become a missile," he fumed, "I myself would fly and
down this damned intruder." The tension was palpable. "Nerves of
military people at airfields," said Orlov, "missile positions,
command-and-control facilities, the Air Force, and the Air Defense Forces were
badly frayed. . . . Khrushchev demanded that the intruding aircraft be shot
down at all costs. The Soviet leader and his lieutenants clearly viewed the
violation of their nation's skies by a foreign reconnaissance aircraft on the
day of a Soviet national holiday, and just two weeks before a summit conference
in Paris, as a political provocation."

Russian
radar continued to follow the U-2 across the Central Asian republics. By the
time Powers reached the Tashkent area, as many as thirteen MiGs had been
scrambled in an unsuccessful attempt to shoot him down. Far below, Powers could
see the condensation trail of a single-engine jet moving fast in the opposite
direction. Five to ten minutes later he saw another contrail, this time moving
in the same direction, paralleling his course. "I was sure now they were
tracking me on radar," he later recalled, "vectoring in and relaying
my heading to the aircraft."

But Powers
knew that at his altitude there was no way for the pilots even to see him, let
alone attack him. "If this was the best they could do," he thought,
"I had nothing to worry about." He then wondered how the Russians
felt, knowing he was up there but unable to do anything about it. Had he known
of a top secret CIA study the previous summer he might not have been so cocky,
but the pilots were never informed of its findings. The study gave the U-2 a
very limited life because of improvements in Soviet ground-to-air missiles. It
recommended that the overflights be terminated and replaced by border
surveillance flights: "In view of the improving Soviet air defense effort,
we believe that the utilization of the aircraft may soon be limited to
peripheral operations."

By now, 4½
 hours into the mission, Powers was approaching his first important target, the
Tyuratam Missile Test Range. This was the Soviet Union's most important space
launch site. Three days earlier, CIA Director Dulles reported to the president
and the National Security Council that Russia had recently attempted to launch
two space vehicles, probably lunar probes. "Evidence indicates that both
attempts failed," he said. "The vehicle launched on April 15 did not
attain a velocity sufficient to send it to the moon. . . . The second Soviet
space vehicle lifted from the launching pad but failed immediately." The
short interval between the two attempts, he concluded, "probably indicates
that the USSR has a second launching pad at Tyuratam." Up to then, the
United States had known of only one.

This
information, produced by NSA listening posts and ferret missions, was
considered so secret that Dulles took the unusual precaution of reminding the
council and even the president of how closely it was held. "Intelligence
concerning Soviet failures in the launching of missiles or space
vehicles," he warned, "was very sensitive information."

In
addition to photographing the missile site, Powers had a second key
mission—this one for NSA: to eavesdrop on the radar systems surrounding the
base. On board were special recorders that could capture the signals. After
landing, the tapes would be flown back to Fort Meade for analysis.

Large thunderclouds obscured Powers's view of the test site, but
he nevertheless switched on the cameras, which might capture proof of the
second launch pad. At the same moment, he entered the engagement zone of a
surface-to-air-missile battalion. "Destroy target," the officer in
charge of the unit shouted. Immediately an SA-2 missile was fired. This time
the missilemen's eyes were wide open—and the Soviets were lucky. A fireball
exploded behind Powers, damaging the U-2's tail and wings but leaving the
cockpit unharmed. At the air defense facility below, the small dot on the radar
began to blink. The plane was breaking up.

"My
God, I've had it now!" Powers gasped. He felt a dull thump and a
tremendous orange flash filled the cockpit. As his plane began to dip toward
the ground from 70,500 feet, on the very edge of space, Powers fought for control.
The orange glow, he thought, seemed to last for minutes. "Instinctively I
grasped the throttle with my left hand," he recalled, "and keeping my
right hand on the wheel, checked instruments."

All of a
sudden a violent force sent him bouncing within the cockpit and he knew both
wings had come off. He was now in a tailless, wingless missile heading rapidly
toward earth. "What was left of the plane began spinning. . . . All I
could see was blue sky, spinning, spinning."

With
pressurization lost, Powers's space suit had inflated and was squeezing him
tighter and tighter. At the same time, the g-forces were pushing him toward the
nose of the plane. "I reached for the destruct switches [to blow up the
plane]," he said, "opening the safety covers, had my hand over them,
then changed my mind, deciding I had better see if I could get into position to
use the ejection seat first." Forced forward in his seat, he was afraid
that when he ejected his legs would be sliced off. "I didn't want to cut
them off, but if it was the only way to get out. . ."

Instead of
ejecting, Powers began to climb out of the cockpit. He unlocked the canopy and
it jetted into space. "The plane was still spinning," said Powers.
"I glanced at the altimeter. It had passed thirty-four thousand feet and
was unwinding very fast." The centrifugal force threw him halfway out of
the aircraft, smashing his head against the rearview mirror and snapping the
mirror off. "I saw it fly away," Powers recalled. "That was the
last thing I saw, because almost immediately my face plate frosted over."

Half in
and half out of the disintegrating spy plane, Powers was still trapped. He
suddenly realized that he had forgotten to unfasten his oxygen hoses and now
they were turning into a noose. After minutes that seemed like hours of
struggle, the hoses broke and suddenly, unbelievably, he was free. "It was
a pleasant, exhilarating feeling," he thought. "Even better than
floating in a swimming pool." Later he said, "I must have been in
shock."

At an NSA
listening post in Turkey, intercept operators began picking up some worrisome
signals. For more than four hours they had been eavesdropping on Soviet radar
installations as the Russians tracked Powers's U-2 flight.

It had
long been one of NSA's neatest tricks. Because radar signals travel in a
straight line and the earth is curved, it was impossible for American radar
stations outside Russia to detect air activity deep within the country.
However, Soviet radar installations throughout the country communicated with
each other over high-frequency circuits. Because high-frequency signals bounce
between the earth and the ionosphere, the right equipment can pick them up
thousands of miles away. Thus, by eavesdropping on Soviet radar networks as
they transmitted signals between their bases over these channels, NSA could, in
effect, watch Russian radar screens far inside the country.

For years
American intercept operators in Turkey had eavesdropped on Soviet radar
installations as they tracked the occasional U-2 overflight. But because the
spy planes flew far too high for either Russian MiGs or their SA-2
surface-to-air missiles, they were out of harm's way. It was like throwing a
rock at a passing jetliner. This time, however, something was different;
something was very wrong. "He's turning left!" the Americans heard a
Soviet pilot shout. A few moments later the intercept operators watched the U-2
suddenly disappear from Russian radar screens near Sverdlovsk.