INTRODUCTION
In many ways this story begins in 1949, when the Soviet Union developed nuclear capabilities. Until that time, the United States had been the world’s sole nuclear power and, as such, had very little to fear from other nations across the globe. With the Soviets now in possession of their own nuclear devices, a new balance of power was established, each side warily eyeing the other. As time passes, the governments involved begin to understand that the stark power to destroy humanity lies in opposing hands, in a way that guarantees mutually assured destruction. This realization tends to have a dampening effect on nuclear threats, since each side understands that any attack on the other would ensure the destruction of all. While this is reassuring to military heads, it is not so comforting to the average citizen, of any country.
Whereas the United States has a well-defined change of leadership through regularly scheduled elections, the Soviet Union has nothing of the kind. When Soviet leader Josef Stalin dies in 1953, a power struggle takes place, won, ultimately, by Nikita Khrushchev. Khrushchev has risen from peasant stock and is a crude and wily man who understands that power is useless unless you can hold on to it.
In the United States, the election of 1960 has produced a leader of many contrasts to Khrushchev. John F. Kennedy rises from aristocratic stock and is a man his powerful father has deemed destined to be president, a claim that proves true. Kennedy is careful, understands the extraordinary power of his office, immediately begins to rely on experts in every field, to help guide the way. Some of these experts dwell in the Central Intelligence Agency, and convince Kennedy that the time has come to eliminate Cuban dictator Fidel Castro. Kennedy, and his brother Bobby, despise Castro, see him as a standard bearer for the greatest threats to our country, leading a blatantly Communist government right on Florida’s doorstep.
The Cuban government is backed and supported by Khrushchev and the Soviets, who see the Caribbean nation as a vital entryway into Latin America, where the Soviet Union’s influence might expand. Though photographs show Khrushchev and Castro have a smiling friendship, in fact, Khrushchev is wary of Castro’s tendency to talk too much. For his part, Castro embraces Soviet support as a way to expand his own power, no matter Moscow’s cautions. But Castro has an almost paranoid fear that the United States will attempt to forcibly remove him from power. He thus relies on the Soviet Union to provide him with undeniable strength of his own. The Soviets, ever aware that America and her NATO allies have nuclear missiles spread across Europe, now believe they have a successful counter to such a strategy. Thus far, Soviet missiles of all kinds have been based only inside the borders of the Soviet Union, and with very few Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles, their armament is only a minor direct threat to the United States. Cuba offers Khrushchev a unique opportunity to move the needle, to balance Soviet missile strength with American. And Castro is only too willing to accept Soviet military aid.
Under Kennedy’s predecessor, Dwight Eisenhower, plans had been laid by the CIA to sweep Castro from power. The agency is delighted that the new president enthusiastically embraces their plan to eliminate Castro with a full-on invasion force, consisting of some fourteen hundred Cuban émigrés, led by officers carefully trained by the CIA. In addition, to begin the operation, the CIA arranges for the Air Force to systematically eliminate Castro’s air power in surgical air strikes, beginning days before the actual invasion. This will involve American planes and American pilots, causing concern in both the Pentagon and the White House, since it will be nearly impossible to disguise the obvious: that this is an American plan with American backing. To add to the concerns, the CIA’s plan calls for American naval vessels, specifically destroyers, to lurk offshore, providing artillery fire as the troops on the beaches require it. Though the CIA goes to great lengths to convince Kennedy that no American fingerprint will be visible, Kennedy is concerned that he could be seen as a bully, trampling illegally across the borders of a sovereign country. That fear continues to fester as the mission begins. Even those at the CIA who delude themselves into believing the mission can be carried out as planned, begin to accept that the claims that the invasion is a Cuban operation, driven and led by Cubans, will be viewed around the world as nonsense. There are concerns as well throughout the American military community, which is not directly involved in the planning for the invasion. The CIA has been territorial with their details, secretive to a fault, not confiding in those in the U.S. military who could have offered advice and materiel. Though Kennedy shares the understandable nervousness about the plan, his drive to eliminate Castro wins out.
After fits and starts, changes and amendments to the plan, the location for the invasion is finally designated as an inlet southeast of Havana, on Cuba’s southern coast. It is called the Bay of Pigs.
CHAPTER ONE: RFK
Monday, May 1, 1961
The White House, Washington, DC
“There will not be, under any conditions, any intervention in Cuba by United States armed forces…”
Sorenson read from the text, stopped now, looked at the president, who said, “Yes, I said that. Every reporter in the country wrote it down.”
Bobby stood in one corner, looked hard at his brother.
“Jack, you’ve put your foot in a few piles, but none like this. Jesus, you insisted on having that press conference a week before the operation? Why’d you have to mention anything about Cuba?”
Kennedy sat at his desk, arms in front of him.
“They ask, I answer. I’m not going to play games with the press. That’s an enemy I don’t need. If you recall, I also said there would be no Americans on the ground in Cuba at all, ever. I was told that was the truth. Apparently, I was wrong about that too.”
Bobby looked down, knew he had been the source of that lie, that he had tried telling his brother no Americans had been in harm’s way. Like so many of the others, Bobby had been a victim of his own wishful thinking. He looked now toward the fourth man in the room, General Maxwell Taylor, the president’s primary military advisor. Taylor seemed grim, even more than the others.
“Mr. President, it is confirmed that we lost four pilots there. Shot down by Castro’s jets. If they’re prisoners, it will be especially embarrassing, in light of your … um … comments.”
Bobby sniffed, folded his arms tightly crossed against his chest.
“I suppose we should hope that all four of them died.” He regretted the words instantly, knew the president would have none of that kind of talk.
Sorenson seemed to struggle for words, as though seeking some way out of this for all of them.
“We could claim that the Americans who took part were renegades, that there was no knowledge among our people that they were even there.”
The president looked at his brother, said, “Why did you try to tell me we had no Americans involved? I heard that from the CIA too. It was supposed to be Cubans, and only Cubans. How do you think this looks, like the great United States bullies its way into a neighboring country, without provocation.”
Bobby let out a breath.
“I misspoke, obviously. There were a few Americans, mostly from the landing craft, who didn’t make it out. One of the supply ships was destroyed by the Cuban jets, sank, presumably with loss of life.”
Kennedy sat back, glared at his brother.
“American loss of life. I would assume the Cubans have the bodies. Next we’ll hear that they’re parading them all over Havana. What of this fellow, San Roman … Pepe?”
Taylor seemed to perk up at the name.
“He survived, sir. We picked him up, with a handful of others in a boat. Somehow they escaped off the beach, motored or paddled like hell to the middle of nowhere until one of the destroyers spotted them. He’s being flown here, to be debriefed.”
Kennedy shook his head.
“I’ll talk to him myself. I want to hear it all, no matter how pissed off that man is. He has a right to be. He’ll give it to me straight, which is probably more than anyone else has.”
Bobby looked at Taylor, saw the same resignation they all felt. The general said, “There is blame enough to go around, sir. The CIA people, Bissell in particular, they’re ready to admit they made some mistakes. This was Bissell’s baby, and he knows there were screw-ups.”
The president stared ahead, furious now, Bobby recognizing the signs. The others kept silent and Kennedy finally said, “Mistakes. Sounds pretty basic, doesn’t it? Oh dear, someone made an error. Someone misrepresented this entire operation to the president of the United States. Whatever are we to do? Well, I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. The CIA just lost every bit of clout they ever had in this office. I don’t know how they sold this plan to Ike, but that’s not his problem anymore. The problem is they sold it to me, and I bought the whole package. I trusted the experts. Isn’t that what a president is supposed to do? I’m new at this, I rely on the veterans, the professionals.” He glanced at Bobby now. “I thought we needed to be rid of Castro, and they played on that. Here, sir, a great idea, already planned out. We can take out Castro and liberate Cuba in one swoop. No casualties, no one in the whole world will know we’re behind it. Cubans for Cuba, that’s what everyone will think. And the Cuban people, well, they’ll just rise up in one great mass, a tidal wave of support for exactly what we want them to support. Just like that. And damn it all, I bought it. I wanted it, and the CIA, Dulles, Bissell, the rest, they put on their dog and pony show, and told me just what I wanted to hear.” He paused, looked at Bobby, spit out the word again. “Experts.”
Bobby could see he was breathing heavily, his brother as angry as he had ever been. Sorenson said, “Sir, what now? We can’t hide from the facts, not any longer.”
Kennedy stood now, paced slowly before the windows of his office.
“I’m not allowed to be the new kid on the block, no one’s excusing me for being wet behind the ears. People died, and I approved the plan. No blame can be fixed, no matter how tempting it is to hang those damn CIA people out to dry. They know they’re through, especially Bissell. Dulles too, I suppose. The head man can’t be immune. But that won’t satisfy anyone else. It sure as hell won’t satisfy me, or the American public. I’d like to go over to CIA, and smash their damned offices to splinters.” He looked at Taylor now. “The damned Joint Chiefs, you sons of bitches who wear all that fruit salad on your shoulders, just sat there and accepted what the CIA told you. You treat me like I’m five years old, that you have to explain the simplest facts to me. But this time, when all of you should have been throwing cold water on the CIA, you sit back with your oh-so-superior smiles, and sign off on an operation none of you would have dared to approve on your own. You patronized your greenhorn president … and went along with what little the CIA told you, knowing none of this would fall on your heads. As pissed off as I am at all the counsel I received, I will not hide from it. No, gentlemen, this is my doing. It’s my fault, and the blame rests right here in this office. The quicker I own up to that, the quicker we can move forward, put it behind us.”
Sorenson said, “Own up to it publicly? A full statement to the press?”
“A full statement to everyone, the press, the public, the government, and even the damn Russians. If anyone is ever to take this administration seriously, they have to see full honesty, full accountability. The decisions were mine, and they were bad decisions. Mistakes were made, all the way up the chain of command, but the biggest mistake happened right here in this office. I gave the go-ahead.”
Bobby held his pose, arms still folded tightly.
“You’re right, Jack. It has to be done, to accept responsibility for all of it. But, Jesus, it’s a hell of a way to start a presidency.”
* * *
HE WALKED WITH his brother across the wet green lawn, a drizzle of soft rain. The president seemed to ignore that, and so Bobby did as well, knowing that Jack was still fuming. Bobby glanced at his shoes, black leather soaked now with the rain. After a long silence, he said, “You had to go along, Jack. Too much had been done, too many hours, too much training. Those Cubans in Miami wouldn’t have let you call it off. It’s all they live for.”
Kennedy stopped, a glance upward.
“That shouldn’t have mattered. The fact is, I want that son of a bitch out of Cuba too. So do you. I relied on my own hope that this would be the way, that he could be erased without any of us getting dirt on our hands. I learned something, Bobby. I’m new at this job, and I thought it was the wise thing to depend on the veterans, those who know how things work. But those people have failings too, have wishful thinking enough to go around. Just because a man’s been in some high-up office for years doesn’t mean he knows what the hell he’s doing, and that goes for the CIA, the Joint Chiefs, and all the rest. That damned Bissell … he flat-out lied to me about the chance for this thing to succeed. I suppose they all did, in one way or another. They thought I needed … boosting. The new kid. A dose of confidence. Well, I’ve got confidence now. I’ve learned not to trust anyone just because he has a big office, or he wears a uniform. You might be it, little brother. From now on, I want you to be my ears, I want you to stick your nose into every dark corner. Figure out what’s real and what’s foolishness, or rather, what’s dangerous. I’ve been thrown straight into the pot, and the water’s boiling. Too many of my advisors are afraid to tell me things I might not like. I figured that one out pretty quickly. You won’t hesitate to pound your boots up my ass plenty. Apparently, this job calls for that.”
Bobby tried not to smile.
“If you insist. I’ve always had your behind, Jack. I learned that from Pop.”
“I know. I need to go sit down with Sorenson, put some words on paper. If anyone will figure out the best way to tell the world I’ve been an idiot, it’s my best speechwriter.”
Bobby tugged on his coat, the drizzle increasing.
“Let’s go inside. Listen, what do you want me to focus on first? I’ve got a truckload of work waiting for me over at Justice. If your attorney general is going to act as your troubleshooter too, I’ll need to set some wheels in motion over there, get things to run without my hands-on every minute.”
Kennedy stopped, seemed to notice the rain now.
“Do what you have to do. The Justice Department is your baby, and you’ll run it however you want to. But beyond that, I want you to find some good people, the right people, to figure out how to get rid of that bastard Castro. He’s a danger to this entire hemisphere.”
“What do we do about the Soviets? Castro’s already crawling into bed with them, and Khrushchev won’t react well if someone plugs Castro with a sniper’s rifle. There are Russian advisors in Cuba now, probably some troops. They’ve been sending in Russian equipment, including MiGs, and they’re certainly training Cuban pilots to fly the things. They consider Castro their new best friend, and they’re going to grease him up with every kind of weapon and training they can.”
“So, if something happens to Castro, it has to come from inside Cuba. Figure out how to make that happen.”
Bobby didn’t respond, knew his brother had the same thoughts. Yeah, we tried that once before.
The president moved toward the White House portico, Bobby keeping up with quick wet steps. To one side, he saw the Secret Service guards, moving parallel, as miserable from the increasing rain as Bobby was now. They reached the cover of the main porch, climbed the steps, Bobby swiping the wetness off his shoulders.
“Jesus, Jack, I’ll need a new suit. Let’s take a walk when the weather’s better.”
Kennedy glanced out past his brother, the rain harder now.
“Just figure out a way to get rid of that son of a bitch. And don’t tell me about it.”
Bobby laughed.
“I just thought of Pop. His best advice. Don’t write anything down.”
Jack glanced at him, unsmiling. They rarely spoke of Joe Kennedy these days, the great shadow of the man growing smaller now. All that the father had pushed for had come to pass already, one son the president, one the attorney general. There wasn’t much else even the most ambitious father could ask for.
At the great doorway, the Marine guard saluted, the two men dripping their way inside. Bobby said, “So, you’ll make your remarks to the nation, owning up to the Bay of Pigs. What do you think the Soviets will say?”
Kennedy stopped, an aide appearing with a pair of towels.
“I think they’ll be surprised as hell that I’m not trying to cover anything up. That I’ll admit we screwed up, and that, under this administration anyway, it won’t happen again. That’s not how they do things in Moscow.”
Bobby wiped at his face with the welcome towel, ran it through the tussle of thick hair.
“They’ll still find a way to accuse you of something sinister.”
“Well, I suppose I’ll find out. Already I surprised them about Vienna. They expected me to put off our scheduled summit, because of our … crisis. But I accepted the invitation anyway. I’ll meet with Khrushchev June third. Jackie and mother will go with me. I thought it would be a good idea to put as much normalcy on this as I could.”
“I’d love to sit down with Khrushchev, find out just what kind of balls he has.”
Copyright © 2024 by Jeff Shaara
