Chapter 2: Kuzminsky and Markov—Friends or Enemies?

Original: Глава 2 Кузьминский, Марков — друзья или враги?

The next morning, without postponing the analysis of my meeting with Franz Kuzminsky, the former chief designer of the ZSRLS (Zagromnye radiolokatsionnye stantsii—long-range radar station complex), I began listening to the magnetic tape recording and typing it out on a portable Yugoslav typewriter, an "Optima." In 1990, personal computers cost quite a lot. For me, a major, it was not affordable to buy a personal computer even of Soviet manufacture, like "Microsha," let alone American PCs (Personal'nye EVM—personal electronic computing machines). I listened to the recording of my conversation with Kuzminsky and, typing it out on standard sheets of paper, hammered away on the "Optima" keyboard. The clatter of the typewriter's mechanical parts was not even dampened by a felt pad an inch thick.

At 11:00 AM, into our cramped little office, which barely held two desks, several chairs, and a bookcase, came Colonel Alexander Grigoryevich Nekrylov, editor of the section on combat training and troop instruction, after the morning editorial meeting. He settled at his desk, which stood directly opposite mine and was pushed right up against it. He pulled toward himself a larger, more imposing typewriter than mine—I no longer remember the model, but it too sat on a felt pad. He began typing something. The felt pads poorly dampened the noise. With each keystroke, the desks resonated along with everything on them, especially in the upper drawers and on the desktop surfaces. Our little office was filled with a roar like that of a machine-building factory. After about fifteen minutes, Nekrylov stopped typing, removed the sheet from the machine, and began to read. Then he set it aside and asked me to tell him about yesterday's conversation.

"So yesterday you told him everything," I replied, "and now I'm typing up the conversation. When I finish, I'll try to find out about Kuzminsky's and Markov's past dealings. It's important for me to understand what kind of people they are."

"Exactly," responded Alexander Grigoryevich, "be sure to find out in more detail what exactly Kuzminsky did before. What kind of specialist is he? What did he do in the system? How did he work? These are important questions. And another thing—try to find out more about Markov. What is his role in all this? Are they friends or opponents? This is the most important question."

"But Kuzminsky mentioned in our conversation that he wrote a letter to the Minister of the Ministry of Radio Industry of the USSR, to the commander of the Air Defense Forces (PVO), to the chairman of the Military-Industrial Commission (VPK)," I objected. "Surely he could not have been misleading leaders of such high rank?"

"He could have, he couldn't have," Nekrylov replied sharply, "that's all emotion. Perhaps that letter of Kuzminsky's contains nothing but emotions. And your material, which I think you will still write, will be analyzed very meticulously by all members of the editorial board. So your material must be very substantive, not emotional. Only then will it pass through the editorial board."

After that, Colonel Nekrylov said that for now we would have to put aside the ZSRLS material, and I would need to work on a different topic. A general had sent material to the editorial office from the Strategic Missile Forces (RVSN—Raketnye voyska strategicheskogo naznacheniya): General-Colonel Igor Dmitryevich Sergeyev.

"The general is our fellow countryman," Nekrylov noted. "He's from a town near Lisichansk—Upper [suburb], which is in your Luganskaya oblast. You're also from those parts. And I was born nearby in a miners' settlement. So we need to help our fellow countryman publish his material in our journal," Nekrylov said, already smiling, "and he'll send us a bottle of cognac from his generosity. Get to work."

The general's material was about twenty pages, single-spaced. From this enormous manuscript, we needed to reduce it to about ten pages, double-spaced. Work on the "Optima," without straightening up, for a day or two. Editing and condensing a missile general's material—not much pleasure in that. What if he didn't like what I did with his "brilliant" work? That had happened to me before with other military commanders, who had very different attitudes toward editorial corrections. However, the department head had assigned me to prepare the material for publication. At a military journal, this could be considered an order. So I had to sit down hard at the "Optima" and rattle away for a day or two, or maybe even more.

I didn't even realize back then that later General Sergeyev would become the commander-in-chief of the Strategic Missile Forces and would make decisions that would affect the fate of nuclear weapons in Russia.

Only after several days did I return to the topic of the ZSRLS. I finished typing up the conversation with Kuzminsky. The next step was to arrange a meeting with Mikhail Markov. But where to find him? What was his position? To whom did he answer? Neither Kuzminsky nor anyone else in my immediate circle could give me a clear answer to these questions. However, Kuzminsky's comment about his opponent—"that very Markov"—made it clear that Markov was someone of considerable rank and influence. My own investigation had to start with finding Markov's contact information and his workplace.

For several days I couldn't manage to get in touch with Kuzminsky. His work and home telephone numbers gave no results. I called repeatedly at different times, but no one answered. Either he wasn't there, or he was avoiding me deliberately. Then I decided to try another approach.

"I'd be happy to pass along your message," responded Alexander Alexandrovich, "but the thing is, right now Kuzminsky is in no position to help you. He's been through a lot, and he's not eager to give more interviews. Besides, his situation is rather complicated. I can't say more about it. But I advise you: forget about Kuzminsky for now and focus on Markov. If you understand Markov's position and his motives, then you'll understand the whole situation. Markov is the key figure here."

I didn't want to immediately dismiss such advice from Alexander Alexandrovich. But it was difficult to follow it, because I didn't have Markov's contact information. And where would I find it? Markov's name appeared in Kuzminsky's story, but beyond that, he was an unknown figure to me. I began to think about where I could search for information about Markov. I had colleagues and acquaintances in various departments and institutions. But who could help me find information about Markov, given the sensitive nature of the questions I was asking?

However, a similar story unfolded in two different departments. First, the leaders asked me who was sending me, what organization I was from. When I answered that I was from a military journal, their behavior changed noticeably. The conversations became very official, and at the end they said that they could not provide any information without special permission from higher authorities. So the direct approach through official channels wasn't working.

In my personal telephone directory, which I had compiled over several years, I found several numbers that might be useful. One of them was the number of Colonel Vladimir Poroshkin, whom I had met at various military-scientific conferences. Poroshkin held a position in one of the military-industry research institutes. He was a knowledgeable person and usually had useful information about people and events in military circles.

Poroshkin even invited me to a celebration when he received his colonel's insignia, so we were on fairly friendly terms. I called him and asked if we could meet. He agreed, and we arranged to meet at a café near the metro station.

"Why are you interested in Markov and Kuzminsky?" Vladimir asked me in turn when we met. "Those are not simple people. What do you need from them?"

I had to briefly explain why I had such heightened interest in these people. Poroshkin listened carefully and then said: "So you're trying to understand the situation with the ZSRLS. That's a complicated story."

"Big men," said Vladimir, raising his index finger to the ceiling of the café, "they have connections everywhere. Both Markov and Kuzminsky are not ordinary people. Markov has climbed very high in the system. He is a general-lieutenant

and holds an important post."

"But is he also a general-lieutenant?" I asked in surprise, "I thought he was just a high-ranking engineer or director?"

"Why would that be surprising?" Poroshkin shook his head and at the same time took a sip from his coffee cup. "In the Soviet military-industrial system, it's quite common for brilliant engineers to achieve general rank. Markov is one such example. He started as an engineer, worked his way up through the system, and eventually became a general-lieutenant with significant authority and influence."

"In 1953, one of the deputies of the chief designer was appointed Mikhail Markov. At that time, Markov was a young, ambitious specialist who had already proven his worth in other projects. He came to the design bureau with a clear sense of purpose and with the backing of higher authorities. His appointment was no accident; it was part of a larger plan to strengthen and restructure the chief design bureau's leadership."

Within a year of working as deputy minister, Markov apparently realized that his position, while prestigious, gave him less practical control over events than he had hoped. The bureaucratic complexity of the Soviet military-industrial system meant that formal titles and positions did not always translate into real power and influence. Markov began to look for ways to expand his authority and impact.

One of the talented students of Alexander Andreyevich Raspletin was Franz Alexandrovich Kuzminsky. Kuzminsky had worked under Raspletin's supervision and had absorbed many of his approaches and ideas about system design.

Later, Kuzminsky continued to work on the experimental model. It was under his direction that the system underwent significant modifications and improvements. His technical expertise and his ability to visualize complex problems made him invaluable to the project. By the time the experimental model was ready for testing, Kuzminsky had become one of the key figures in the system's development.

Vladimir Poroshkin told me everything he knew about Markov and Kuzminsky. In the third person, as it were, he painted a picture of two brilliant specialists who had initially worked together but whose paths had diverged due to differences in approach and, possibly, personal ambitions.

"No point in wasting good information," said the colonel, "it's possible that the root of the contradictions between Kuzminsky and Markov lies in their different views on how the system should be developed and employed. Markov, as an administrator, may have wanted a more cautious approach, while Kuzminsky, as the chief engineer, wanted to push forward with more aggressive testing and deployment."

We walked to the nearest metro station, "Begovaya," what you might call in a festive mood. In 1990, we were still living in relative material abundance—at least we could afford to have a meal together and discuss serious matters over a cup of coffee.

The next day, from a potent mixture of vodka and beer—which, as far as I know, only Russian soldiers drink—I had a terrible hangover. Nevertheless, I had to drag myself to the editorial office.

"And no arguments," he said to me somewhat grimly, "we'll fix your material. After all, you'll be revising the entire article based on what you've learned."

In the chief's safe there turned out to be a liter bottle of spirits. A couple of other officers from our office stopped by, as it were, for a quick drink. The conversation became very animated. Someone brought some food. The gathering took on a festive character.

"Are you threatening me?"

The department chief and our fellow officers looked at me questioningly. There was a brief, tense silence.

"And if I refuse?" I answered.

"That's your problem," the man answered, "just know that we are aware that you're snooping around asking questions about people in sensitive positions. Be careful. There are people who don't appreciate such curiosity."

The conversation ended there. The pleasant feeling after the hangover evaporated. I understood that my investigation had touched on something sensitive. The warning was clear, though it was delivered in an indirect way. Someone above was keeping track of my activities, and they were not happy about my interest in Kuzminsky and Markov. But I had already invested too much effort in this story to back away now. The question remained: should I continue, or should I heed the warning and drop the whole matter?