MiG Pilot: the Final Escape of Lt. Belenko

Belenko was incredulous when Peter and Anna generally outlined the program charted for him without, of course, explaining much of the rationale behind it. The stated willingness of the Americans to let him fly, much less so soon, impressed and touched him. It all sounded so logical, so sensible, so generous, so good. It is too good to be true. They are just being clever in ways t do not know. They will not let me see everything. I will test them and make them reveal themselves.

Sure that he was asking the impossible, Belenko said he most wanted to tour a U.S. Air Force fighter base and go aboard an aircraft carrier. Peter acted as if the requests were routine and reasonable. The visit to an air base posed no problem; the Air Force should be able to arrange it within a couple of weeks. As for the carrier, he would have to ascertain from the Navy when one would be close enough ashore for them to fly out. It would just be a question of when. Father Peter, he's a good actor.

An emergency or problem of surpassing urgency delayed the beginning of the announced regimen. In the note Belenko drafted in English back in Chuguyevka after he decided to flee, he intended to say, «Contact a representative of the American intelligence service. Conceal and guard the aircraft. Do not allow anyone near it» What he actually wrote in the language he never had studied or heard spoken was: «Quickly call representative American intelligence service. Airplane camouflage. Nobody not allowed to approach.» When the Japanese translated the message from English into their own language, the meaning that emerged was: «…Aircraft booby-trapped. Do not touch it»

Gingerly peering into the cockpit, the Japanese were further alarmed by the red buttons labeled in Russian «Danger.» Apprehensions heightened when they and their American collaborators surmised that the safety catches which would prevent the buttons from doing whatever they were supposed to do were missing. If someone accidentally touched something, would the priceless MiG-25 blow up? Until definitive answers were forthcoming, examination of the plane could not begin, and only Belenko could supply the answers.

So on his third day in America, Air Force officers brought to the mansion huge photographs of the MiG-25 cockpit blown up to its actual size, with resolution so fine that you could see every instrument and inch of the cockpit just as clearly as if you were sitting in it The leader of the group was a tall, powerfully built colonel with searching dark eyes and the weathered face of a lumberjack. The colonel, introduced as Gregg, shocked Belenko when he spoke. Peter spoke Russian well, Anna spoke it flawlessly, but this colonel spoke Russian as if he had been born and lived all his life in Russia. He is a Russian in disguise! No, that cannot be; that is ridiculous. But what if it is true? Call Nick. Don't make a fool of yourself. You have put your life in their hands anyway. It's their responsibility.

Gregg welcomed Belenko, cordially but not extravagantly, rather as if he were greeting a highly recommended young officer reporting to his squadron. There was important work to do, and he wanted to get on with it. They set up the panels of photographs in the library, creating an eerily accurate three-dimensional illusion of the cockpit, and placed against the wall photographs displaying various sections, actual size.

Belenko explained what he understood to be the purpose of each button marked «Danger.» He could not explain why the safety pins had been removed; they were supposed to be there. A drunken mistake? Malice by someone in the regiment? Orders? He honestly did not know. But together, he and Gregg figured out where to insert replacement pins, which Japanese and American technicians would have to fabricate.

«Okay, now show me how to start the engines.»

«Why not wait until we have it over here? I can show you everything then and teach your pilots how to fly it.»

«I'm afraid we're not going to be able to fly it. It looks as if we'll have to give it back in a month or so.»

«What! Are you stupid?» Belenko was incredulous, enraged, betrayed. «Give it backl Do you think that if an F-14 or F-15 landed in Czechoslovakia or Poland, you would ever get it back? It's your airplane now! I brought it to you! I risked my life, I gave up everything to give it to you! Make the Japanese let you have it! If you give it back, the Russians will laugh at you! They will think you are fools!»

«Calm down!» Gregg commanded. «I'm as pissed off as you are. I agree with you. But I don't make policy. We figure with your help we can learn most of what we need to know without flying it. So let's get started.»

It's unbelievable. What can I do? I guess nothing except help them as much as I can.