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The 1980s were a time of huge international tension. The United States
and the Soviet Union glared at each other across a vast arsenal of nuclear
weapons. If either fired first, the result would be mutually assured
destruction, which bears the appropriate acronym of MAD.
The two empires fought proxy wars in Asia and Africa. Their European
allies (NATO for the United States and the Warsaw Pact for the USSR)
lived tensely together. Some states were split in two, such as East and West
Germany. If the Cold War turned hot, they would be the front lines.
Germany. If the Cold War turned hot, they would be the front lines.
Any incident had the potential to set off the powder keg, and the leaders
of the two countries maintained a hotline from one capital to the other to
head off disaster.
In 1983, a South Korean airliner, flight KAL 007, was shot down by a
Soviet MiG fighter. All 269 passengers on board were killed.
Ronald Reagan was the U.S. president at the time. The Soviet Union was
in flux as two hardline presidents, Yuri Andropov and Konstantin
Chernenko, died in office. The youngest man to hold the job, Mikhail
Gorbachev, was installed in 1985.
In Reykjavik, Iceland, in 1986, Regan and Gorbachev met in a summit.
Their goal was to reduce the number of nuclear warheads each possessed.
At the last minute, the talks collapsed.
A teenager in West Germany named Matthias Rust was following the
negotiations closely “because if there was a conflict, we all knew we would
be the first to be hit” (Dowling, 2017). Just 18 years old, Rust had been
taking flying lessons, learning to fly the venerable Cessna 172. The aircraft
had been designed in the early 1950s, using pre–World War II technology
such as an air-cooled engine and wings above the fuselage.
Deeply affected by the failure of the peace talks, Rust hatched a plan to
build a metaphorical “bridge of peace” between East and West. He booked
his Cessna for three weeks, not telling anyone what he planned to do. He
took off from Uetersen Airfield, near Hamburg, on May 13, 1989.
He flew to Iceland, where he prepared for the next leg of his journey. He
visited Hofdi House, where the failed talks between Gorbachev and Reagan
had taken place, and later reported, “It gave me motivation to continue.”
He then flew to Norway and on to Finland, the country closest to the
Soviet Union, and the one with the most porous border.
Before he took off again, on May 28, he filed a flight plan with the
authorities, telling them he was bound for Stockholm, Sweden. But after
leaving the air traffic control zone, he turned off the plane’s transponder,
the device that allows any plane to be tracked, and headed for the Soviet
border.
Soon he was spotted by Soviet radar in Latvia. As he approached the
border, he entered the air above the most sophisticated air defense system in
the world. Missiles and fighter planes stood ready to repel attackers 24/7.
The fleet included extraordinary craft such as the MiG-25, which can fly
nearly three times the speed of sound, and the largest fighter plane ever
constructed, the Tu-128, which fires missiles 17 feet (5m) in length and is
the size of a World War II bomber.
the size of a World War II bomber.
The day of Rust’s flight happened to be Border Guards Day, a national
holiday on which most of the men guarding the border were off on
vacation.
Nonetheless, radar detected Rust’s plane and directed MiG fighters in
close to identify it visually, since its transponder was not responding. They
reported that it was a Yak-12, a Soviet training plane that looked similar to
the Cessna 172. Clouds then concealed Rust’s whereabouts, but the next
wave of MiGs spotted him again. One pilot flew in close, then reported to
headquarters that the aircraft was actually a West German intruder.
Upstream in the command chain, that pilot’s superiors were convinced
that the pilot was mistaken: how could a West German plane have made it
all the way across the border?
Because of the negative publicity from the attack on KAL 007, Soviet
commanders were cautious. They wanted the order to shoot Rust down to
come from the highest level, in this case Defense Minister Sergei Sokolov.
Other ground commanders still believed that Rust’s plane was a Yak-12,
and near Moscow he entered an air control zone in which Yak-12 pilots
were training in their aircraft.
To navigate, Rust had only simple maps he’d purchased off the shelf in
West Germany. Late in the day, he identified Moscow. After seeing the
onion domes of Saint Basil’s Cathedral, he scouted for a safe place to land.
He found a clear runway on the eight-lane Bolshoy Moskvoretsky
Bridge, connecting Red Square with the districts to the south of the city.
Normally, the bridge was a tramway route, but that morning one section of
cables had been removed for maintenance. There was just enough room for
him to land.
After Rust touched down, Muscovites surrounded the plane. Everyone
was friendly. A British doctor, Robin Stott, had just decided to get some
fresh air and walked out of his hotel for an evening stroll, taking his video
camera with him. Hearing the noise of the plane’s engine, he pointed his
lens at the sky in time to video the landing and its aftermath. KGB agents
arrived but stood around talking to each other, unsure of what to do next.
They eventually detained Rust and took his Cessna to a nearby airport for
examination; no one could believe that a teenager had just penetrated the air
defense system of the mighty Soviet Union. After nearly a year in jail, Rust
was returned to West Germany.
The military confusion that facilitated Rust’s flight gave Soviet leader
Mikhail Gorbachev an excuse to get rid of hardliners who opposed his
reforms, including Sokolov. Gorbachev’s reforms, such as the economic
revolution called perestroika and the opening of society called glasnost
,
gained momentum. The Soviet Union collapsed three years later.
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