Welcome Home 2

Yanayev leaned slightly forward in his seat, the lights casting a sharp line across his face. "We believe democracy is a good thing. It allows for grassroots voices to emerge and puts limits on power. The Soviet Union has made its share of mistakes in history, and we have reflected on them. That is why our vision of democracy must be built on a strong and comprehensive legal foundation. Whether you're the head of state or a regular citizen, if you break the law, you must be tried. Privilege won't protect you. Public sympathy won't override justice."

He paused before continuing, "America's democratic success owes much to its legal institutions. But we must create our own system based on our realities. Any form of democracy that ignores reality is just a mirage. Look at South Korea or South Vietnam. They adopted the democratic systems of the United States, but that didn't stop their leaders from becoming dictators. Any other questions?"

A young man raised his voice again. "What about the soldiers still missing in Afghanistan? Does your government really intend to bring them all back?"

Yanayev chuckled. "Do you remember the film Rambo: First Blood Part II? The one from six years ago, meant to smear the Soviet Union? Rambo is betrayed while trying to find missing American soldiers in Vietnam. He says a line I still remember: 'I love my country, but does my country love me?' I don't know if the United States ever truly searched for its lost soldiers in Vietnam, but I hope the Soviet Union never repeats that tragedy. My friend Wallace visited me in hopes of involving Western humanitarian organizations in the effort to find those lost soldiers in Afghanistan."

The room had grown silent. Yanayev looked directly at the camera.

"To those children in the desert, waiting each day for our soldiers to return, I say this: the war is over. Come home. Your mothers and your country have not forgotten you. They've been waiting all this time."

That night, the number of viewers who watched Yanayev joke and speak warmly with the West was incalculable. What Wallace did know was that his show's ratings had skyrocketed by 85%, blowing past every other current affairs program. At CBS, champagne flowed in celebration. But Wallace quietly slipped away from the festivities and returned to his office, where he made a private call to a friend at an international rescue organization.

Beep... After a short pause, the call connected.

"Hello? Pete speaking. Who is this?"

"Hi Pete, it's Wallace. Sorry to disturb you. Got a moment? I need a favor."

Pete's tone shifted immediately. "Wallace! Sure, buddy. What's up?"

Leaning on his desk, Wallace balanced the receiver between his shoulder and ear, lighting a cigarette to calm his post-show nerves. "You're still distributing aid in Afghanistan, right? Food for refugees and all that? I was wondering if you could ask around—see if any of the locals know the whereabouts of Soviet soldiers who went missing back then."

"You mean help the Soviet government find their missing men?" Pete replied, hesitating. He placed his drink on the table and sounded uneasy. "You know the sponsors of our organization are powerful American interests. If they find out, it could get ugly. They might accuse us of hiding things or worse, cut our funding."

Silently, Wallace switched on his speakerphone and started recording. Pete had no idea his words were being documented.

"Pete," Wallace said, his tone casual, "just curious—what would happen if your backers found out you were helping track down missing Soviet soldiers?"

Pete fell straight into the trap. "Look, ideologically, we can't be seen helping the Soviets. Even if it's just watching out for them, our sponsors wouldn't approve. They'd rather see those soldiers tortured to death by Afghan guerrillas than lift a finger. Frankly, a hundred dead Soviets doesn't mean as much as one American life."

Wallace played back the recording. "So Pete, what do you think would happen if I released this conversation to the public?"

There was a pause. Then Pete's voice on the phone grew frantic. "My God, Wallace, you can't. That would destroy us. The media backlash—I could lose my job!"

Wallace remained calm. "You have two choices: help quietly or let the public keep you accountable. Oh, and one more thing. President Yanayev's popularity is soaring right now. If you misstep here, I can't predict how things will turn out for you."

"Alright, alright! I'll help," Pete sighed, defeated. Between angering his sponsors and losing his job, he chose the lesser evil.

While America was still captivated by Yanayev's unprecedented openness, Moscow was already moving. With special approval, the Kremlin formed a dedicated committee to begin searching for the missing soldiers. If earlier moves had been to show strength, this was about revealing Yanayev's compassion.

Some within the Soviet leadership grumbled about the effort being a waste of resources—like finding needles in a haystack. Defense Minister Yazov voiced these concerns bluntly.

"Find a man named Islamuddin," Yanayev instructed. "He was once a bodyguard for Massoud, the so-called 'Lion of Panjshir.' But before that, he was Nikolay Bestrov of the 101st Motor Rifle Regiment—an Uzbek soldier who defected."

The room froze.

"Massoud's guard? Our most dangerous enemy in Afghanistan?" Yazov asked, incredulous.

Yanayev only nodded, a mysterious smile playing at his lips. "Don't ask how I know this. Just find Islamuddin through our intelligence network. He likely has information on many missing Soviet soldiers. Most of them didn't return home. Through his help, they reached Pakistan, and from there, South Africa or Europe."

"Understood. I'll task the committee with making contact. But General Secretary Yanayev, there's something else you need to know."

"Speak."

"Several member states are stalling. They won't reveal troop numbers or weapon inventories, and they refuse to integrate properly into the Union."

Yanayev's eyes narrowed.

"So there are still separatist factions resisting our unification plan. They've learned nothing from the Baltic example. I've already granted them wide economic autonomy. What more do they want?"

Yazov added, "Georgia has been the most resistant. There was a brief clash between our troops and theirs. No casualties, but they're clearly planning something."

Yanayev leaned back, thinking. Zviad Gamsakhurdia, Georgia's president, was a known U.S. puppet and a figurehead of anti-Soviet sentiment. Perhaps he was preparing for open rebellion.

If Georgia sparked a war for independence, others might follow. But if Yanayev could crush that rebellion, it would give the Soviet Union the justification it needed to revoke the privileges of every breakaway republic.

"I see," Yanayev said, a cold glint in his eye. "Then let's slow down our efforts. Wait for the fish to leap from the lake—and catch them all at once."

The Soviet Union would bide its time. Let the separatists make the first move. Then destroy them. Grey beasts may laugh now, but their days of mockery were numbered.

Yanayev folded his hands and said with finality, "When the Soviet Union returns to the North, all traitors will perish."