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American Espionage and the Soviet Target
I was assigned to Russia as an Army attaché—
A legal spy who operated every single day.
The era of the Soviets was run by KGB.
Just one uncareful step and then they’d get ahold of me.
Our target was in Rovno, where the KGB was tough.
We made sure not to carry on us any spy guy stuff.
We drove around the city using just our eyes to look.
Observing installations, we were going by the book.
The final target was a military installation
Right there in Rovno’s center, which we viewed with tense elation.
A column of armored vehicles went in straight through the gates,
Confirming what we’d heard, though wary more so of our fates.
And while we finished counting them and making firm IDs,
The KGB was stationed in a van beneath the trees.
In front of us came running up a military cop.
I saw a large lens pointed at us, so we had to stop.
Detained by diplomatic pact, an hour maybe more.
We said that we’re just visiting. “We’re innocent,” we swore.
We had not used our cameras on purpose in Rovno.
We memorized the data that we wanted, we were pro.
I laughed out when I read the news. Our boss told us, “Well done.”
We had collected good intel. We knew that we had won.
That day they claimed we used our cameras illegally.
We had denied the charges on the spot. They set us free.
While we were sitting in the car, we ate some mini-bars
That we had just received, of Snickers candy and of Mars.
Just then I realized what our KGB accusers thought:
That we had used disposables and swallowed the whole lot.
They must have thought the secret film would through our systems pass
Did they think that it was developed by our natural gas?
Our “sin” was then reported in the “Pravda Ukraina,”
And when we read the story, we all laughed like a hyena.
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Poet’s Note:
1. “The Ukrainian edition of ‘Pravda’ of October 21, 1985, named several U.S. diplomats it alleged were involved in espionage activities. The same issue also accused Colonel Halloran and his assistant, (MAJ) Roy Peterson, who were arrested in Rovno in the Ukraine, of photographing military installations.“
2. Source: Richelson, Jeffrey. “American Espionage and The Soviet Target.” William Morrow and Company, 1988, page 71.
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LTC Roy E. Peterson, US Army Military Intelligence and Russian Foreign Area Officer (Retired) has published more than 6,200 poems in 88 of his 112 books. He has been an Army Attaché in Moscow, Commander of INF Portal Monitoring in Votkinsk, first US Foreign Commercial Officer in Vladivostok, Russia and Regional Manager in the Russian Far East for IBM. He holds a BA, Hardin-Simmons University (Political Science); MA, University of Arizona (Political Science); MA, University of Southern California (Int. Relations) and MBA University of Phoenix. He taught at the University of Arizona, Western New Mexico University, University of Maryland, Travel University and the University of Phoenix.
Last night I was at a party where it was alleged that someone had been arrested for taking photos at a parade–in Canada. If you think in terms of syste.s and beliefs rather than nations, you might wonder who (what set of beliefs) won the Cold War.
You’ve given me the itch to write a poem about losing my passport in East Berlin (Entschuldigung bitte!–Berlin, Hauptstadt der DDR).
Canada is hard to believe. I wrote a book about my service at an Army Attache in Moscow, titled, “American Attache in the Moscow Maelstrom.” The Soviets prohibited even tourists and locals from photographing anything they considered of strategic value including trains, electrical lines, and of course anything of possible military value. The game with the KGB was fun for me. You are forgiven for calling Berlin the “Capital (Head City)” of the German Democratic Republic.
At least they didn’t detain you to collect the evidence, naturally.
A lovely, authentic snippet of history.
Have you seen the Tom Hanks film, Bridge of Spies? Should be right up your street.
Thanks for the read.
No, I have not seen that film. Thank you for liking this.
That’s a great tale of heroism. As you would know better than anyone, the KGB were notorious for fabricating evidence once they identified their target (just like certain regimes do today). We’re all fortunate that your story had a happy ending.
I appreciate the thoughts and kind comments, Warren!
Thank you for this well-crafted, historically fascinating poem from your days working for the government in the U.S.S.R. It is full of interesting details (e.g. the candy bars being misinterpreted as “disposables”) and depicts so well how tense relations were between the Americans and the KGB. Although the tone of the poem is fun (e.g. references to “natural gas” and laughing “like a hyena”), I’m sure the actual experience must have been nerve-wracking. I’m currently reading The Gulag Archipelago and it’s crystal clear that the Soviet government meant business. I bet you have a great many additional stories to share with us. Looking forward to more.
I do have a lot of stories and some of them are in books I have written. Things like spy dust on my car in Moscow, capturing a Soviet missile for ten days under terms of the INF treaty at Votkinsk when I was Commander of Portal Monitoring, and operating in the Russian Far East as the first US Foreign Commercial Officer in Vladivostok. I had many tense encounters, but I thought the games were fun, since I was protected as a diplomat.
Interesting story, Roy, of a “legal spy” whom opponents would have to entrap carefully in order to stop your activities. And if they did, you would be replaced soon. It must have been a constant cat-and-mouse game for both sides. What is spy dust on your car? If my great aunt Alberta had known about it, she probably would have found some on a taxi or two when she visited Lithuania. Alberta was born in America but spoke Lithuanian well. She made two trips back to the Old Country where she located family who welcomed her warmly, but she told spooky stories about being followed by the KGB. I didn’t know what to make of them, but I suppose any Americans on tourist visas could be persons of interest. And at home she did belong to the Catholic organization called the Blue Army.
Margaret, on a clear day in the fall of 1984, I came out to my car parked at our family apartment building and noticed my car had a dusting on it, but it could not have been from pollen at that time of year. I collected some of the dust in a plastic bag I kept in the car for other reason. As the operations officer in charge of writing, editing, and sending anything collected to our intelligence agencies in response to collection requirements, I asked them to determine what it was. The response came back that it was called “spy dust.” Spy dust it turns out was a substance that would stick to the hands and be transferred to any doorknobs that were opened and would be viewed using blacklight. That was meant to detect anywhere we had been during the day or night.