In 2007, I was invited to meet participants of the Cuban Missile Crisis. I had always hoped to reconnect with someone from the days when, back in 1962, I was part of the mission defending the Cuban Revolution. After 45 years, I met my former commander, Colonel Roman Grigorievich Danilevich, who urged me to write down my memories of our expedition to Cuba.

1962: A New Mission Begins

In 1962, I was serving as the deputy commander for political affairs in an anti-aircraft missile battalion stationed at the Kapustin Yar military training range near Volgograd. Our battalion was a small unit of around 80 soldiers, sergeants, and 17 officers. That summer, upon returning from a business trip, I sensed something unusual—a buzz of activity, secretive discussions, and a palpable tension I couldn’t decipher.

Soon, changes started unfolding. A competent officer, Rosenstein, was removed from his position as our battalion commander, and I was unexpectedly appointed as a propagandist in the unit’s political department—a role typically reserved for officers with a full university degree, while I only had two years of university education. This abrupt change underscored the extraordinary nature of the situation. By the end of summer, the bulk of our regiment had already left on a mysterious mission, and preparations began for the departure of the remaining personnel.

Departure Amid Uncertainty

On the eve of departure, I spent my final hours at home. My children were asleep, my wife was running a high fever, and I sat watching the television. Zara Dolukhanova was performing Ave Maria. Spellbound, I stayed until the end, despite needing to leave. The performance felt like a kind spirit guiding me into the unknown.

We departed late at night from the Kapustin Yar railway station. Our equipment was loaded, and the soldiers were packed into “teplushkas”—freight cars converted into makeshift barracks. These cars offered no comforts, with wooden bunks serving as beds and little else. For seven days, we traveled to Feodosia, enduring the discomfort and bonding as we went. I used the journey to build rapport with the officers and troops, ensuring I understood their morale and state of mind.

Feodosia: Orders and Controversy

Upon arriving in Feodosia, we settled in a tank regiment’s base, preparing for our next leg of the journey: boarding a ship for an international mission. However, before we even began, I was summoned by Colonel Slukhai from the Main Political Directorate. His sharp rebuke accused me of poor political work, claiming that one of our officers, Lieutenant Colonel Prokhorov, had expressed dissatisfaction with the mission. Prokhorov’s “crime” was a frustrated comment made after months of non-stop drills and a lack of clear information about the mission’s purpose and duration.

Slukhai ordered a party investigation with the intent to expel Prokhorov from the Communist Party, which would ruin his career and life. Torn between duty and conscience, I delayed the proceedings, hoping for time to resolve the issue.

Boarding the Ship: A Turning Point

Fortunately, before any action could be finalized, we began loading onto the Physicist Vavilov ship. The task was enormous—securing equipment, organizing accommodations for 400 personnel, and ensuring no one deserted during the process. I was relieved to escape Slukhai’s reach, though he tried to pressure me even during the boarding.

Officers were assigned cabins, while soldiers and sergeants were packed into the ship’s hold. Despite the challenging conditions, camaraderie prevailed. The new battalion commander quickly gained my respect, and his leadership proved invaluable throughout our mission, particularly near Guantanamo.

Crossing the Atlantic: Danger and Determination

The ship sailed under radio silence, and we were instructed to avoid contact with other vessels. The mission was fraught with risk. If attacked, we were ordered to prevent the cargo from falling into enemy hands—“cargo” meaning the 400 of us aboard. This grim directive haunted us as we sailed through the vast, beautiful Atlantic.

As tensions in global politics escalated, our resolve grew. Regular updates on the situation kept morale steady. Even in these precarious circumstances, the ship’s crew treated us with warmth and respect. They organized a birthday celebration for me on September 15, complete with a makeshift pool for the soldiers, which lifted everyone’s spirits.

Approaching Cuba: A Night to Remember

By September 19, we were nearing Cuba. One quiet evening, as officers gathered on the dimly lit deck, an unexpected flash of light and a deafening roar shattered the silence, leaving us to confront the unknown once again.

To be continued…