Eagle, I don't want to form an alliance anymore.

Slava took a deep breath: "I am very concerned that the current military situation could lead to a strategic miscalculation."

Andropov tapped his fingers on the armrest, signaling him to continue.

“You previously issued the order to draw a clear red line, and all military regions are carrying it out. But we all know that when the words ‘draw a clear red line’ are conveyed to the grassroots level, they will be amplified at each level. Each level of commander will push the ‘red line’ forward a little bit and increase the ‘response intensity’ a little bit in order to show that they are seriously carrying out the superior’s instructions.”

By the time they reached the frontline radar stations and interceptor pilots, their orders might have changed from 'resolutely repel the intruders' to 'shoot down any suspicious target.'

Andropov did not interrupt him.

"None of us want war. I didn't experience the Second Great Patriotic War, so I can't fully understand your thoughts, but..."

The Geneva negotiations are our first opportunity in decades to sit down and seriously discuss the nuclear issue with the Americans! If, on the eve of or during the negotiations, an incident occurs where the Soviet Union shoots down an American plane or fires are opened in a border conflict—no matter how justified the reason—the negotiations will be dead!

The hawks in the Reagan administration will use this incident to completely suppress Schultz and the negotiators, shut down all channels of dialogue, and then we will really have no choice but to prepare for war.

Dr. Einstein was right. I don't know what we'll use in World War III, but I do know that in World War IV our weapons will be sticks and stones.

Andropov pondered for a moment: "You want the Soviet army to remain restrained during this period, right?"

"Yes, during this window of opportunity for the Geneva negotiations, we must exercise maximum restraint in the face of any military provocations from NATO."

If only one or two NATO aircraft intrude into the airspace, then first send interceptors to intercept and identify them, issue warnings via radio, and fire warning shots with machine guns—use all available non-lethal means before considering firing.

A large-scale NATO invasion would be a different story, but provocations by individual aircraft should not be the trigger for halting the negotiation process.

“It is an insult to our country to allow enemy planes to enter our airspace and fly away so brazenly,” Andropov frowned. “If we back down this time, what will our other Warsaw Pact allies think?”

"I'm not asking you to swallow this humiliation; I'm asking you to choose between two bad outcomes that are slightly less bad. Being photographed is a loss of face, but shooting down an American plane is a loss of Geneva."

"Saving face can be regained later, but once Geneva is gone, it's truly gone!"

Andropov stared at him for a while.

"You're betting that the Americans won't actually attack. I don't dare to bet on that, so what guarantees do you have?"

"...I can't guarantee that. But I can give you an analysis—all of Reagan's military postures were for the purpose of exerting pressure, not for starting a war. His goal was to exhaust the Soviet Union in an arms race rather than to destroy it in a nuclear war."

Someone who wants to wage war will prepare quietly and then launch a sudden attack; someone who wants to scare you will make a scene at your doorstep every day. Reagan has been making that scene for two years. If he really wanted to fight, he would have done it long ago; he wouldn't have given you two years to prepare.

Another silence followed, longer than the last.

At the far end of the garden, a guard patrolled, his leather boots rustling on the gravel path, the sound particularly clear in the quiet of the evening.

“Okay,” Andropov finally said.

Slava finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"I will sign a new directive tonight—during the Geneva negotiations, all military districts will implement a tiered response procedure when dealing with individual aircraft intrusions: first interception and identification, then radio warning, then cannon warning, and finally missiles. The first shot will not be fired unless absolutely necessary or there is clear evidence that NATO has launched a large-scale intrusion."

Thank you for your understanding.

Slava reached out and picked up the untouched cup of tea, taking a sip. It was cold, but he didn't mind.

"If this instruction causes us to suffer losses somewhere—like taking a couple more photos or flying a few more rounds than others—I'll take responsibility. But if—"

Andropov tapped the table and looked at Slava, who was drinking tea.

"If your judgment is wrong, if the Americans aren't bluffing..."

“We must all be responsible for our choices,” Slava nodded.

Andropov's instructions were transmitted to the air defense commands of all military districts through the General Staff late that night.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

1983年8月31日，纽约时间凌晨00:05

大韩航空007号班机从纽约肯尼迪机场起飞，目的地首尔。机型是波音747-230B，搭载240名乘客和29名机组人员，其中包括美国众议员拉里·麦克唐纳和22名12岁以下的儿童。

After taking off from New York, the plane first flew to Anchorage, Alaska for a refueling stop. At around 3 p.m. local time in Anchorage, Flight 007 took off again from the runway of the international airport next to Elmendorf Air Force Base in Anchorage, beginning the final leg of its journey to Seoul—a flight of about seven and a half hours, flying over the North Pacific along a standard route designated R-20 by the International Civil Aviation Organization.

The R-20 route was designed to avoid Soviet airspace, with its closest point coming within approximately seventeen nautical miles of the Soviet border.

Because entering Soviet airspace would involve more complicated negotiations regarding air rights, airlines were unwilling to sacrifice efficiency for this.

However, Flight 007 began to deviate from its route shortly after taking off from Anchorage.

The cause of the yaw remains a point of contention.

The most likely explanation is that the crew did not properly activate the inertial navigation system's route mode when taking off from Anchorage, and the aircraft's autopilot continued to fly according to the magnetic heading set at takeoff without correcting to the intended route.

This error is almost imperceptible in the first few tens of minutes after takeoff because the deviation between the initial segment of the R-20 route and the magnetic heading of the direct flight from Anchorage is very small.

However, as the flight distance increases, the deviation continues to accumulate.

At the first waypoint, the aircraft deviated by about 60 nautical miles. By the second waypoint, the deviation had increased to more than 100 nautical miles. By the third waypoint, the aircraft had deviated northward by nearly 160 nautical miles—enough to penetrate hundreds of kilometers into Soviet airspace!

The veered path then passed through one of the most sensitive military areas on Earth: the Kamchatka Peninsula.

That was the site of the Soviet Pacific Fleet's ballistic missile nuclear submarine base, where submarine-launched ballistic missiles capable of destroying half of the United States were stored in underground bunkers.

That area was also a core node of the Soviet Far East air defense system, housing several early warning radar stations and interceptor wing units. Even more crucially, on August 31st, the Soviet Union was conducting a ballistic missile test launch at the Kura missile test range in Kamchatka. This test launch was itself a response to the US border provocations of recent months, aimed at demonstrating the Soviet Union's strategic strike capabilities.

To monitor the missile test launch, a U.S. Air Force RC-135 Cobra Ball electronic reconnaissance aircraft was conducting a reconnaissance mission in international airspace about 200 kilometers east of the Kamchatka Peninsula. The aircraft's electronic equipment was pointed towards the Kula test range, recording telemetry signals of the missile that was about to be launched.

A veered civilian airliner, a U.S. spy plane conducting reconnaissance, and an ongoing missile test—all three appeared on radar screens on the Kamchatka Peninsula almost simultaneously within the same time window.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Kamchatka Peninsula Air Defense Command Post, 2:15 a.m. local time on September 1.

Captain Lukyanov, the radar officer on duty, was the first to notice the anomaly:

An unidentified aerial target entered the coverage area of ​​his search radar from the northeast, at an altitude of about 10,000 meters and a speed of about 900 kilometers per hour, with a course that did not match any known international civil aviation routes.

"Hmm? Bearing 0-3-5, distance 420, altitude 10,000, speed 900, target identification—unknown." He reported the data to the duty commander sitting behind him.

The commander straightened up from his chair and walked to the radar screen to look at the bright spot.

“RC135?” His first thought was of the US reconnaissance plane that had been monitored for several hours.

“Something’s not right. RC135 is at bearing 0-4-8, 650 meters away. That’s another target. And RC135’s altitude has been between 8,000 and 9,000 meters, while this target is over 10,000 meters.”

"Has the flight route been verified?"

"It has been verified that there are no reported civil aviation routes at this location and altitude. The nearest international route, R-20, is 160 nautical miles to the south."

"Suka! Have the pilots on duty prepare for an interception!"

The commander cursed under his breath, grabbed the phone, and reported to his superiors: An unidentified flying target has been detected in the Kamchatka air defense zone, suspected of intruding into Soviet airspace. Requesting instructions.

The report was rapidly transmitted along the command chain—from Kamchatka to the Far Eastern Military District's air defense command, and from the Far Eastern Military District to the General Headquarters of the Air Defense Forces in Moscow. Throughout the transmission, the dot of light moved continuously on the radar screen in a west-northwest direction, penetrating deeper and deeper into Soviet airspace.

At 2:36 a.m., two Su-15 interceptors took off from Yelizovo Air Base on the Kamchatka Peninsula and climbed to an altitude of 10,000 meters with afterburners engaged, heading toward the unidentified target.

...

In the cockpit of the Su-15, Major Osipovich, the pilot, looked at the onboard radar screen in front of him in the pitch-black night sky.

His weapon racks carried two R98 infrared-guided air-to-air missiles, and on the right side of the cockpit was a GSh23 twin-barreled cannon.

Before takeoff, he received only one brief order: Intercept and identify unidentified targets, and await further instructions.

But another thing was on his mind at the same time—a few months earlier, those American planes had swaggered over Soviet military facilities in the Kuril Islands, taken pictures, and left without a trace, and General Kamensky had been punished afterwards.

That punishment was a clear signal to every pilot: if you let a foreign plane fly over your head again, you're finished.

However, just ten days earlier they received another instruction from the General Staff, which required them to respond in a tiered manner with restraint as the priority.

What?

At 2:51 a.m., he spotted the target visually—a huge black silhouette flying steadily in the night sky at his two o'clock position, several times larger than his Su-15, with the exhaust flames of its four engines glowing a dark orange in the darkness.

Okay, this should be a commercial airliner.

Osipovich had learned to identify the outlines of various Western military aircraft from photographs during training, but this thing in front of him was too big; its wingspan was at least sixty meters, its fuselage was robust and long, and...

He adjusted the interceptor's altitude, approaching from a position slightly below the target. When his line of sight was level with the target's fuselage, he saw something, and his finger immediately moved away from the weapon release button:

A row of neat, evenly spaced small windows lined the side of the machine, with faint lights shining through some of them.

Military aircraft don't have that many portholes! You're just scaring yourself.

He breathed a sigh of relief: "Ground, this is 805. The target's shape is identified as a large wide-body aircraft with cabin windows and flashing navigation lights, suspected to be a commercial airliner. Repeat—suspected to be a commercial airliner."

There was a few seconds of silence in the command post, then the duty commander's voice came through: "805 received, maintain tracking, await further instructions."

At this moment, the second Su-15 also arrived at its position. The pilot was a captain named Savitsky, who confirmed Osipovich's observation from another angle: "This is 804. I agree with 805's judgment. The target has cabin windows, so it doesn't look like a NATO military aircraft."

The command post immediately made a call to the Far Eastern Military District's air defense command. A few minutes later, instructions from the Far Eastern Military District came through—the core content of which was exactly the same as the document sent from Moscow ten days earlier.

Good job, the Far East Military Region is also shifting the blame.

"805, execute standard warning procedures. First, make a radio call to the target on International Emergency Frequency 121.5."

Osipovich called three times on 121.5 MHz:

"Unidentified flying object, this is the Soviet Air Defense Force. You have intruded into the airspace of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. Change course immediately or reply on the designated frequency!"

no respond.

He repeated the same call on the military emergency frequency 243.0 MHz.

Still no response.

The crew in the cockpit didn't know why they hadn't heard the radio calls. Perhaps they were talking to Anchorage air traffic control, perhaps the radio equipment was set to the wrong frequency, or perhaps they simply didn't expect anyone to be calling them from this location, since their navigation indicated they should be on an international route, not in Soviet airspace.

PS: It is more likely that the problem lies with the pilot. Korean Air has a high frequency of accidents. In 1987, the plane exploded in the air. In 94, the plane overran the runway. In 97, the plane crashed into a mountain. In 98, the plane overran the runway. In 99, the plane overran the runway once and crashed after two takeoffs. There have been many other runway overruns and ground collisions since then.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

3:05 a.m.

"805, radio warning ineffective. Execute visual warning, machine gun warning fire."

Osipovich lowered the nose of the Su-15 and swept it past the right rear of the passenger plane, pulling the trigger of the cannon as he passed the tip of the passenger plane's right wing.

"Da da da—"

The bright orange trajectory of the cannon bullets drew a clear streak across the dark night sky, passing approximately two hundred meters to the right front of the passenger plane.

But the crew of Flight 007 still did not react. The aircraft maintained its course and altitude and continued flying westward, as smoothly as someone in a dream—and that might indeed be the case, as crew attention levels drop dangerously low during long trans-Pacific night flights, and the autopilot silently steers the plane in the wrong direction without anyone noticing.

"Ground, 805, machine gun warning ineffective. Target has not changed course."

The atmosphere in the command post grew increasingly tense. The unidentified target had penetrated more than 200 kilometers into Soviet airspace and was about to fly over the most sensitive missile base on the Kamchatka Peninsula. Without new orders from the General Staff, the air defense forces should have already launched missiles—and with good reason: an unidentified aircraft ignoring all warnings was flying over your nuclear weapons base; what reason did you have not to shoot it down?

This is not without precedent. Decades ago, a U.S. U2 reconnaissance plane was shot down by a missile while conducting reconnaissance deep into Lao Zhong territory.

But what if it really is a passenger plane?

The duty commander gritted his teeth and made a decision.

"805, you are ordered to approach the target for final identification and confirmation. Do not use weapons before confirming the nature of the target."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Osipovich brought the Su-15 from the right rear to within 100 meters of the passenger plane.

At this distance, the airflow disturbance between the two aircraft was enough to cause a perceptible turbulence on the Su-15's fuselage. He could clearly see the Korean Air livery on the side of the passenger plane's fuselage—a red and blue stripe extending from the nose to the tail, with a yin-yang symbol painted on the vertical tail.

But what exactly is it doing? Why is it here? Why isn't it responding to any warnings?

Just then, the nose of the passenger plane began to tilt slightly upward, and the numbers on the altimeter slowly climbed. In normal commercial aviation, this is just a typical phased climb—long-haul flights gradually climb to a more economical altitude after consuming some fuel and becoming lighter.

But to a highly stressed pilot, this maneuver could be interpreted as something else entirely: an evasive maneuver, an attempt to escape the interceptor's pursuit by climbing.

Osipovich's thumb instinctively moved toward the weapon release button, but then he remembered the instruction.

"Oh my god... I must be going crazy..."

He took a deep breath, reduced the speed of the Su-15 to almost the same level as the passenger plane, accelerated forward from a position parallel to the right side of the passenger plane, and passed about fifty meters directly in front of the passenger plane's cockpit window.

At this distance, it's impossible for someone in the cockpit not to see a fighter jet flying past.

Then he pulled the trigger of the cannon again.

"Da da da da da—"

The aircraft cannon spat out a fiery tongue of fire into the night sky. At 30,000 feet in the pitch black, the orange-red flash looked like a signal flare fired directly in front of the passenger plane, bright enough to illuminate the surrounding area for hundreds of meters!

This time, the people in the cockpit finally saw it.

In the cockpit of Korean Air Flight 007, Captain Chun Byung-in and First Officer Son Dong-hwi were simultaneously jolted awake from their half-asleep state the moment the flash of light appeared.

A Soviet fighter jet was less than 100 meters directly in front of them!

“What—what is that!” Sun Donghui screamed.