Surprise Saturday morning update. I didn't realize how short this chapter was when I broke them up, so I figured I'd sneak it in as extra. I'm looking forward to the next story arc: November 1963.
Saturday, October 27, 1962, United States naval destroyers in the Caribbean detected the Soviet submarine B-59 in the waters off Cuba. The destroyer USS Coates began dropping signaling depths charges at 2:55pm in an attempt to get the sub to surface. Beneath the clear blue surface, Captain Savitsky, political officer Maslennikov, and second-in-command Arkhipov met in the sub's chartroom: The three men were tense, their faces grave and their eyes dark. When the destroyers were picked up on sonar, B-59 dove deep to escape, so deep that it was cut off from radio communications: No one onboard knew what was happening, and Captain Savitsky was certain war had broken out. They were, he noted, in international waters, after all, and the Americans had no reason to bombard them unless Russia and the United States were at war.
Unbeknownst to the Americans, B-59 was carrying several nuclear armed torpedoes. The commanders of Soviet subs equipped with atomic weapons are required to get permission from the vessel's political officer before firing them. Maslennikov granted Savitsky authorization at 3:01pm.
B-59 was a special case, however. Arkhipov was its second mate, but he was the commander of the flotilla it belonged to, and his permission was also required.
He refused.
"Мы должны!" Savitsky cried, pounding the table with his fist.
Arkhipov shook his head. "Мы не знаем, есть ли война, и мы не начнем ее, если она не существует. Поверхность и ждать заказов из Москвы."
Savitsky glared. Maslennikov looked frightened. Moscow would be angry, and a man in his position knew to never, ever anger Moscow.
"Поверхность, тогда," Savitsky said tightly.
B-59 surfaced, and war was averted.
That night, Attorney General Robert Kennedy met secretly with Ambassador Anatoly Dobrynin. After tense negations, they reached an understanding: The Soviet Union would dismantle and remove its rockets and launch sites from Cuba (under United Nations supervision) in exchange for an American pledge not to invade Cuba. In an additional secret understanding, the United States agreed to eventually remove its nuclear missiles from Turkey.
By daybreak, the Cuban Missile Crisis was, for all intents and purposes, over. On November 2nd, Kennedy addressed the nation:
"My fellow citizens:
I want to take this opportunity to report on the conclusions which this Government has reached on the basis of yesterday's aerial photographs which will be made available tomorrow, as well as other indications, namely, that the Soviet missile bases in Cuba are being dismantled, their missiles and related equipment are being crated, and the fixed installations at these sites are being destroyed."
Lori Loud held Bobby Jr. and breathed a sigh of relief. He squirmed against her and fussed. "Shhh," she said, tears flowing from her eyes, "it's okay...it's all over." The nightmares that haunted her over the past week would continue, and years later, she would still have them once in a while.
"The United States intends to follow closely the completion of this work through a variety of means, including aerial surveillance, until such time as an equally satisfactory international means of verification is effected."
Luan felt a big, stupid grin spreading across her face. She glanced at her father, who leaned forward in his chair, the corners of his lips turned up in a faint smile. "Thank God," Mom sighed.
Leni knitted. "No more bombs?" she asked without looking up.
"No more bombs," Luan said.
"That's good. I was getting sick of sleeping in the fort."
Luan felt light and happy. She leaned back against the couch and took the Civil Defense helmet off. Holding it in her hands, she thought, I'm glad to be rid of you. She tossed it over the back of the couch. In that moment, she knew at least one thing she wanted to do: She wanted to work to get rid of all the stupid nuclear bombs.
"While the quarantine remains in effect, we are hopeful that adequate procedures can be developed for international inspection of Cuba-bound cargoes. The International Committee of the Red Cross, in our view, would be an appropriate agent in this matter. The continuation of these measures in air and sea, until the threat to peace posed by these offensive weapons is gone, is in keeping with our pledge to secure their withdrawal or elimination from this hemisphere. It is in keeping with the resolution of the OAS, and it is in keeping with the exchange of letters with Chairman Khrushchev of October 27th and 28th."
Ernie chuckled. He, Flip, Lincoln, and Ronnie Anne were clustered around the radio in the kitchen. "I knew nothing was gonna happen," he said. That was a lie. He had been scared shitless since last Monday.
Ronnie Anne smiled widely, and Lincoln hugged her from behind, his hands lacing over her stomach. Though neither had said so, both felt a mixture of hope and horror at the prospect of her being pregnant. Hope because they wanted a baby – their baby – and horror because right now was not the time. In the days following their lovemaking, they had reached that conclusion separately and jointly. "We need to be ready," she said, "good jobs, stable home, the works." Lincoln agreed, and they sealed their deal with a kiss.
They were lucky this time: She started her period on Halloween. "From now on, we use protection," she told him.
"Okay," he said with a smile. No need to rush things. It would happen sooner or later...they had a lifetime together, after all.
"Progress is now being made towards the restoration of peace in the Caribbean, and it is our firm hope and purpose that this progress shall go forward. We will continue to keep the American people informed on this vital matter. Thank you.''
Luna took the joint from Daggy and inhaled. They were parked at the lake with the radio on. "Guess that means we don't have to die," Daggy said, and snickered.
Luna laughed richly...not because she was high, but because it felt good to not be in constant terror anymore. "I'm not gonna lie, man, I was scared."
"Yeah," Daggy said, sobering, "so was I."
She leaned over the center console and kissed him, then, with a smile, she put the butt of the joint between his lips. "You're kinda cute when you're scared," she teased.
Daggy took a hit, and blew smoke over the top of her head. "Yeah, I bet I was really fucking cute this week."
She giggled and stroked his cheek. "You're cute every week."
"So are you."
She winked. With both eyes. Because she was high now.
They both laughed until they cried.