A colonel. At one point I asked if I could have an attorney present during the questioning. In the United States, I noted, an accused person has that right. The interpreter had pointed to the colonel. As a representative of the prosecutor’s office, he was present to see that the interrogation proceeded in accordance with the law. Supposedly an observer, the colonel frequently asked questions himself, including some of the most incriminating. Later, examining transcripts of the interrogations, I would find every one of his questions attributed to someone else.
Although present during the first two interrogations, Rudenko was absent from most of those which followed. During one session, which was conducted by a general rather than the two majors, a short, thin, chain-smoking man of about forty monitored the proceedings. Later I learned his name. He was Aleksandr N. Shelepin, his official title chairman of the State Security Committee under the Council of Ministers of the USSR, or head of the KGB.
(Shelepin was head of the KGB from 1958 to 1961, at which time he was elevated to the Presidium. A Khrushchev protégé and one of the premier’s most trusted advisers, later he would betray him, helping arrange his downfall.)
At what altitude was the U-2 flying when the rocket hit you?
About sixty-eight thousand feet, but I’m not sure it did hit me.
It could have been a near-miss.
You were hit on the very first shot. You didn’t see any other rockets, did you?
No, but then neither did I see this one.
How many flights have you made over Russia?
This was my first.
How many?
Just one.
What is your unit called?
Detachment 10-10.
Where is it based?
Incirlik.
Where is Incirlik?
Adana, Turkey.
How many U-2s are there at Incirlik?
Four or five.
How many U-2 pilots are stationed there?
Seven.
What are their names?
I’m not going to tell you that.
We know them anyway, so you might as well tell us.
Fine, if you already know them, then there’s no need for me to tell you.
Did any high-ranking officials ever visit Incirlik?
Occasionally.
Who were they?
General Thomas D. White was one.
Who is he?
I think he’s Chief of Staff of the United States Air Force.
Did he visit your detachment?
No, only the base.
Who were the others?
General Frank F. Everest, Commander-in-Chief of the United States Air Force in Europe.
The others?
I can’t remember anyone else.
Think. Who else?
Cardinal Spellman.
Did he visit your detachment?
No, neither White nor Spellman did. They only visited the base.
What is the name of the commanding officer of Detachment 10-10?
Colonel Shelton.
Who ordered you to make this flight?
Colonel Shelton.
Who was in charge of planning such flights?
All I know about is the one flight I took. Colonel Shelton handled that.
Who briefed you?
Colonel Shelton.
Who marked the route you were to follow on the maps?
Our navigator.
What was his name?
Major Dulak.
How many navigators are there in the detachment?
Just one.
How many pilots?
Seven.
What are their names?
I told you I wasn’t going to answer that.
Where did you learn to fly the U-2?
In the United States.
Where in the United States?
A base on the West Coast.
What is it called?
Watertown.
Who was in charge of your training?
A Colonel Perry.
When did you first arrive at Incirlik?
In 1956.
Who was your commanding officer then?
The same Colonel Perry.
What were the names of your other commanding officers?
The only other one I can remember was a Colonel Beerli.
What is this piece of equipment? What does it do?
I don’t know. I told you the pilots were never shown the equipment. (It was part of the radar recording apparatus.)
You said that the purpose of your flight was intelligence. Now—
No. I didn’t say that. I said I presumed that was its purpose. As far as my own knowledge goes, I don’t know that to be the case.
You could surely guess?
Yes, I could. But it would be only a guess.
When you were hit by the rocket, did you radio your base and tell them you were bailing out?
I don’t intend to answer that question.
Why not?
Because I don’t think it to my advantage to do so.
Under Soviet law, complete cooperation, which includes answering all questions truthfully, can be an important factor in mitigating punishment.
That may be so. But I still refuse to answer.
What are the names of the other pilots at Incirlik?
(Silence.)
How many flights have you made over the Soviet Union?
This was my first and, presumably, my last.
The detachment number appeared on my identification; Incirlik was shown on my maps, as well as listed on the U-2 radio channelization chart in the aircraft. The visits of generals White and Everest were parts of well-publicized European base-inspection tours, Cardinal Spellman’s visit only a stop on his regular Christmas tour—all had been written up in Stars and Stripes. Other visitors, unpublicized and of far more interest to the Russians, I left unmentioned. NACA had issued a press release identifying Watertown; it was no longer in use as a training base. As for Detachment 10-10’s commanders, I presumed it would be relatively easy for the Russians to discover their names, if their intelligence didn’t already know them. By crediting each with far more duties than he was actually responsible for—training, planning, operations, intelligence, etc.—I was able to avoid revealing the names of more than a dozen others. Nor was Major Dulak the only navigator.
I didn’t want to mention any names. If I had to do so, to make my story seem truthful, I wanted them to be as few as possible.
As for the number of U-2s at Incirlik, I couldn’t be sure whether they had the base under surveillance. The number I chose was the number they were likely to see should this be the case. It was not exact. Nor was the number of pilots in the detachment.
Toward the end of the evening interrogation session on May 3, the interpreter asked me why I wasn’t eating. I told him I simply had no appetite. Could they get some other food? he asked. They would order anything I wanted, if I would just eat it.
Although not interested in food, I told him I would like something to read.
Noting that there were a number of English books available in Moscow University library, he asked what I wanted.
A Bible, I answered, curious as to whether they would supply it.
He promised to try to obtain one. In the meantime, he had some paperback mysteries, his own personal collection, also a copy of Gone with the Wind. He could lend me these if I was interested.
I was, definitely.
Deciding to tempt my luck, I also asked if I could have some paper and a pencil. After consulting with the majors, he gave them to me, without asking why I wanted them.
That night I made a calendar. I don’t know why—I was not serving out a sentence; on the contrary, each day I checked off might well be my last—but it seemed important to know what day it was. It was a small link with the outside world. One of the only ones I had.