FRIAZINO, Russia — The man who saved America — and probably
the world — is living out his days on a measly pension in a dank
apartment in a forlorn suburb of Moscow. He has a bad stomach,
varicose veins and a mangy, spotted dog named Jack the Ripper.
Stanislav Petrov has a small life now. He takes Jack for walks,
makes a medicinal tea from herbs he picks in a nearby park, and
harangues his 34-year-old son about getting off the computer and
finding a girlfriend.
There was a time when Petrov, now 65 and a widower, was almost
larger than life. He was a privileged member of the Soviet Union's
military elite, a lieutenant colonel on the fast track to a
generalship. He was educated, squared away and trustworthy, and
that's why he was in the commander's chair Sept. 26, 1983, the
night the world nearly blew apart.
Tensions were high: Three weeks earlier, on Sept. 1, Soviet
fighters had shot down a Korean airliner, killing all 269 people
aboard.
Petrov was in charge of the secret bunker where a team of 120
technicians and military officers monitored the Soviet Union's
early-warning system. It was just after midnight when a new
satellite array known as Oko, or The Eye, spotted five U.S.
missiles heading toward Moscow. The Eye discerned they were
Minuteman II nuclear missiles.
Petrov's computer was demanding that he follow the prescribed
protocol and confirm an incoming attack to his superiors. A red
light on the computer saying "START!" kept
flashing at him. And there was this baleful message:
"MISSILE ATTACK!"
Petrov had written the emergency protocol himself, and he knew
he should immediately pick up the hot line at his desk to tell his
military superiors that the Motherland was under attack.
He also knew the time line was short. The senior political and
military chiefs in the Kremlin would have only 12 minutes or so to
wake up, get to their phones, digest Petrov's information and
decide on a counterattack.
As the alarms blared, 80 technicians and 40 military officers
jumped up and looked toward Petrov's command post on a mezzanine
overlooking the gymnasium-size control room. He shouted into an
intercom for them to take their seats and attend to their work.
"I was not sweating," Petrov said, "but I felt very weak in my
legs. Like our Russian saying goes, I had legs of cotton. I was in
a stupor, but then my feeling of duty took over."
Petrov gathered himself and looked at the data coming from The
Eye. Why only five missiles? That didn't fit with either his
training or his logic. He knew that if the United States were going
to launch a first strike, it would unleash hundreds of
missiles.
"Political relations with the United States couldn't have been
any worse at the time," he said. "But to launch such an attack, one
would have to be completely crazy."
So Petrov called his superiors and reported in a firm voice that
it was a false alarm, no attack. Personally, though, he wasn't
sure. "Not 100 percent sure," he said. "Not even close to 100
percent." The next 15 minutes, waiting for the Minutemen to
possibly hit, were unnerving. "Yes, terrifying," he said. "Most
unpleasant."
Soviet engineers eventually discovered that The Eye had sounded
the alarm when it spotted what it thought was the engine flare from
five U.S. missiles. But what had the satellite really seen? Flashes
of sunlight reflecting off some clouds over Minuteman silos in
Montana.
A military panel investigated the so-called "autumn equinox
incident," which was kept secret until 1993, and they
found numerous other technical cataracts in The Eye. Computer
assembly technicians in Moldova were blamed. Thereafter, all
satellite assemblies were done in Ukraine.
No decorations or rewards have been given to the officers who
averted the nuclear catastrophe. Petrov, who'd gone through the
crisis with an intercom to his staff in one hand and the telephone
to his bosses in the other, was later reprimanded for not filling
out his log book as events unfolded. He was denied further
promotion, but Petrov denies that he was persecuted by his military
bosses and Soviet political commissars. He said he continued to
work command shifts in the bunker.
Stanislav Petrov - American Hero
Photo of Stanislav
Petrov
Nikolai Ignatiev / Network Photographers
Reprinted with permission.