And yet she would want me to continue with our plans, he thought. But how? He would have to wait in uncertainty.
January 20, 1968
Chernakov had been informed that he was being sent to Nanning, China to negotiate for the release of two Soviet technical advisors who had been arrested and were being held on charges of spying. The assignment had come from the Defense Ministry at the request of the Central Committee through Karpov. He knew it was made on the basis of his prior working relations in this particular district. He knew also that his government and China continued to be mutually suspicious of each other’s military intentions.
The border clashes with China were occurring more frequently in the Far East and the Transbaykal Military Districts. The numbers of Soviet ground troops had been increased in those areas. Tensions were high since the evacuation of all nonessential Soviet personnel from Bejing following the riots of the Chinese Red Guards in early 1967.
China was demanding the withdrawal of Soviet troops from Mongolia. Chernakov was prepared for a cool if not hostile encounter in Nanning.
January 22, 1968
It was cold and snowing slightly when General Chernakov and his aide Major Alexei Sukhanov dressed in the regulation service uniforms under winter hats and overcoats boarded the four-engine turboprop plane in Moscow. Their destination was Nanning in Kwangsi Province, China. They moved to the rear of the plane where the vibration was less and Pyotr opened his briefcase prepared to work while in flight, as always.
He had prepared himself for the long flight, but the drone of the engines and the constant vibration seemed to penetrate every fiber of his being. He tried to concentrate on the task ahead, but Valeri’s face seemed to force everything else out of his mind.
Finally, he closed his briefcase and looked at his aide, Sukhanov, seated across from him. Alexei’s eyes were closed and he appeared to be asleep, but as Chernakov set his briefcase aside Sukhanov’s eyes opened.
Chernakov felt an almost fraternal regard toward the young Soviet major who had been selected as his aide on his last assignment to Cuba. Since Valeri’s death he had come to rely on Sukhanov’s intellect and attention to detail at a time when Pyotr felt almost incapable of action. Sukhanov also possessed a rare gift among Soviet military… a sense of humor. It might have been that trait alone that helped Chernakov work through his acute time of grief.
“Aah, you’re awake, Alexei. It is good that you could get some sleep. We will be arriving in another few hours or so, I should think. Then we shall see what must be done to go about unraveling the difficulty with our Chinese comrades,” Chernakov stated wearily.
“Yes, General, and perhaps you should try to rest before we land.”
“Thank you, Major, I think I will wait and see what accommodations will be given to us tonight. By the way, we will probably not need these overcoats; the weather in Nanning will be much milder, about 35 degrees Celsius. It is almost subtropical; like Vietnam, but not as wet.”
Sukhanov commented pleasantly, “It seems strange leaving the cold and snow and in but a few hours to have it warm like Cuba. About the accommodations, it is possible, Sir, that the plane may be more comfortable,” alluding to the possible tension at the camp.
Chernakov nodded, half smiling agreeably, “Let us hope not.”
A car was waiting as they deplaned. They were driven directly to the building that housed the headquarters and the office of the Base Commander. Their papers were checked and finding everything in order they were escorted to the office of General Yang.
“General Chernakov,” Yang’s greeting was followed by an exchange of salutes. “Come in and please be seated.” Yang was a tall heavy set man with an erect bearing and neat black hair, wearing the drab Chinese army uniform. Chernakov instinctively knew that Yang was Mongolian. Yang smiled, but the suspicion in the sharp black eyes gave evidence that this man didn’t miss anything.
“This is my aide, Major Alexei Sukhanov, General Yang.”
Barely acknowledging the introduction, Yang directed them to be seated, but Sukhanov remained standing behind Chernakov’s chair. Yang moved to sit at his desk across from the two visitors, two guards flanking him.
He looked at Pyotr. “So, General Chernakov, I know you are here on an assignment for your country, how may I help you?” He lightly drummed his fingers on his desk.
“An impatient man,” Chernakov thought as he got directly to the point. “As you are probably aware, General Yang, I’m here to secure the release of two Soviet citizens, Vadim Andropov and Viktor Orloff. They are technicians who were arrested and are being held as prisoners here at this camp.”
Yang frowned and studied his hands now folded on the desk in front of him. “They have been detained for spying,” he said in a serious tone.
“That, of course, is ridiculous. They are technicians, nothing more,” Chernakov stated flatly.
Yang was thinking, “Why are these two so important that Moscow would send Chernakov?” And then said, “Everyone knows who you are, General Chernakov; I ask myself, if these technicians are not spies, why would your government send someone so important to seek their release?”
Chernakov leaned back in his chair appraising his somewhat antagonistic host. “Don’t make too much of my presence here, General Yang,” he spoke softly, but authoritatively. “There are a number of reasons why I was asked to meet with you.”
“Number one, I understand and speak your language without an interpreter, thus there will be no room for misunderstanding,” he paused, “by either of us.
“Number two, I am very familiar with this district and North Vietnam and the work of these technicians who have been in Hanoi until their arrest, under joint authority of China, USSR and North Vietnam.
“Number three, I am personally willing to accept, and to give Moscow my assurance, that an innocent mistake was made during the transfer of prisoners from Hanoi to Nanning and that our two technicians were simply misidentified. And of course my government knows that the government of the great Peoples Republic of China would not wish a break-down in our governments’ mutual attempts to resolve and diffuse certain of our differences by continuing to incarcerate two innocent Soviet citizens.”
Yang’s eyes glittered as he studied the Soviet General for a brief moment. He knew that Chernakov was not someone who would play diplomatic games. Yang also knew that the technicians had been arrested and held by his own orders. He had not expected the Supreme Soviet to send a man like Chernakov for two puny technicians of little importance. His plan of harassment of Soviet personnel was backfiring.
Chernakov spoke, “Well, General Yang, what are your thoughts on this situation?”
Yang responded, “I will need to speak with my Intelligence Officer, Captain Lu Chan and look into the details of their arrest,” he said thoughtfully.
Both men were standing now, “Thank you General Yang.” Pyotr looked squarely at Yang, “I have approximately twenty-four hours and then I must prepare to return to Moscow—with our two Soviet technicians. If they are not released and I must go to a higher level of authority, I am prepared to do that. Now General, can quarters be provided for our air crew and Major Sukhanov and me for the night?”
“Of course,” Yang said as he gave orders to one of his aides to arrange food and lodging for the Soviet air crew and their commanders and added, “Please ask Captain Lu Chan to come in.”