After Kennedy captured the White House with one of the narrowest margins in American history, the Soviet Union released the two surviving members of the RB-47 crew as a goodwill gesture to the new administration. (“You can’t sit in a cell for 211 days without it affecting you,” Colonel Bruce Olmstead said. “You forgive, and you live with it.”9)
Powers thought for sure he was next. But the news never came.
In June 1961, the two leaders met in Vienna. “You know, Mr. Kennedy,” Khrushchev said, “we voted for you.”10 This was apparently meant as a joke, but it was impossible to deny that the U-2 Incident, the scuttling of the summit, and Powers’s continued imprisonment inured to Kennedy’s benefit. JFK declined to bring up Powers’s fate at the summit.
In another instance, Khrushchev said, “Relations deteriorated due to the U-2 and I consider that the American people’s vote for Mr. Kennedy was against Nixon, the U-2 and the Cold War policy.”11
The CIA’s attempt to overthrow Castro in April 1961, a covert operation approved by Eisenhower, also worked against Powers’s case. The fiasco of the Bay of Pigs demonstrated the CIA’s hubris and the ineptitude of the early Kennedy administration, which pulled the plug rather than risk an overt confrontation with the Soviets. It was another very public black eye for an agency that was institutionally averse to sunlight. The axe fell on Allen Dulles and Richard Bissell, leaving the CIA to be managed by a new man, John A. McCone, who was not personally invested in the cause of the U-2 program and Francis Gary Powers.
Four months later, the Soviet-backed East German government began constructing the Berlin Wall. The steady migration of East German citizens to the West—estimated at about 1,000 people per day by the late 1950s—ended overnight, except those souls brave enough to pursue freedom at the risk of a bullet.
The new fortification, which extended for 96 miles, protected by armed guards with orders to shoot to kill, immediately became the ultimate symbol of the Iron Curtain.
By early 1962, it was hard to deny the impact of Powers’s ill-fated flight—as if that bright flash of orange light had signaled the dawn of an ominous alternate reality. With the U-2 Incident, US-Soviet relations fell into a dangerous downward spiral.
Given all this disturbing news, Powers remained skeptical of his release—until a guard showed up with a suitcase and told him to start packing. He allowed himself to believe that he was finally going home.
Around six o’clock the next morning, Frank said goodbye to Zigurd and walked out of the prison building and into a waiting car. Within a few minutes, he and the colonel and the interpreter stepped onto a train bound for Moscow. He tried to engage the colonel about the situation, but he refused to discuss it.
When they arrived in Moscow, a car drove them through familiar streets, finally reaching a familiar destination. Powers never thought he would see those iron gates of Lubyanka again. The sight stirred an unsettling feeling.
Once inside, the colonel led him to his old cellblock. This time, however, he was only visiting. The next morning, they were headed to East Germany.
Because his prison account had a balance of about one hundred dollars, but they were only authorized to distribute rubles, which were worthless in the outside world, the colonel asked him what he wanted to do with the money. He thought about it for a moment. Could they transfer the balance to his buddy Zigurd? No. Not allowed.
After some discussion, they allowed him to use the money on some Russian souvenirs, which the interpreter would buy for him, and on a meal brought in from a restaurant.
During his twenty-one months of captivity, he had lost more than twenty pounds, his diet consisting mostly of soup and potatoes. He desperately yearned for some meat and a stiff drink, so the two veal cutlets and the tin cup half-filled with brandy hit the spot.
When they arrived at the airport the next morning, a small plane was waiting, its two propellers already spinning.
“If you had to go from a car into a house or on a plane, you went fast,” Powers recalled. “They didn’t make you run, but they didn’t want you to be in public view very long.”12
After flying to East Berlin, the American and his two Soviet escorts wound up at a safe house, the sort of cozy, well-appointed place reserved for party big shots. He noticed a very visible security detail outside, which contrasted with his knowledge of CIA safe houses, where the first order of business was to remain invisible. Apparently, the KGB didn’t care so much about secrecy once they had their prisoner locked up tight.
When the colonel produced a bottle of brandy and poured the prisoner a drink, he took a sip. “Made me woozy,” he recalled with a laugh. The KGB man shook his head.
“No! No!” he said in Russian. “That’s not the way we drink in Russia. Chugalug!”13
The man proceeded to demonstrate by filling his cup and downing it in one gulp.
Frank nodded and killed his brandy in one swallow.
“If everything goes well,” he said, “you will be released tomorrow morning and will have a reason to celebrate.”14
Before dawn, when they shared a ceremonial brandy and headed out into the cool air, Frank remained in the dark about the specifics of his impending repatriation. In time he would learn that his father deserved part of the credit. At least Oliver was no longer contradicting him on the front page of the New York Times.
The week after his conviction, Oliver gave an interview to the Times in which he said, “[Francis] said, ‘If I had been shot down, there would have been an explosion behind me and an orange flash around me.’ He didn’t believe he was shot down.”15
Frank was stunned.
Clearly his father was confused.
He asked for permission to write a letter to the editor of the paper, carefully choosing his words…
18 September 1960
Editor
New York Times
New York, N.Y.
Dear sir:
I was given the opportunity to read the article in the August 27th issue of The New York Times in which my father while being interviewed stated that I did not think I had been shot down.
Apparently my father misunderstood the answers I gave to questions put to me during the Trial.
I would like to clear this misunderstanding by saying that even though I did not see what it was that caused the explosion I feel sure that it was not the aircraft itself which exploded. All of my engine instruments were normal up to the time of the explosion which I both felt and heard. I also saw an orange flash or glow when I looked out.
I cannot be sure but I think the explosion was behind and maybe to the right of the aircraft.
I felt no impact of anything against the airplane itself, therefore I think the shock wave from the explosion caused the damage.
I can only guess what happened after that. I am of the opinion that the tail of the aircraft came off first causing the nose to drop sharply resulting in the failure of both wings. The cockpit and what was left of the aircraft tumbled and finally settled into an inverted spin causing “G” forces which made it impossible for me to use the ejection seat. I finally got out of the aircraft at fourteen thousand feet or below. I give this altitude because my parachute opened automatically and it was set to open at fourteen thousand feet. It opened immediately upon my getting free of the aircraft.
I was at maximum altitude as stated in the trial, at the time of the explosion. This altitude was 68,000 feet.
I feel sure that my father misunderstood what was said during the Trial and if so then maybe there are others who also misunderstood. I hope this letter will clear up any misunderstanding on this question.