Cassidy's Run (13 page)

C H A P T E R: 15

A SECRET MEDAL

By 1974, Joe
Cassidy had been living his hazardous double life for fifteen years, pretending to the Soviets that he was a traitor to America. Other than his wife, Marie, he could confide in no one. Not even his children or his closest friends had a clue.

Those inside the government who did know the truth decided that, after so many years, Cassidy’s extraordinary service to the nation deserved recognition. The problem was that any award or accolade would have to be secret.

Early in 1974, Cassidy was told that he would be given a medal in private by the president of the United States, Richard Nixon.

“The presentation was supposed to be in the White House by the president,” Cassidy said. “But because of Watergate, I was told it wouldn’t be possible. He was resigning or heading toward resignation.” The award ceremony was switched to the Pentagon.

Cassidy, modest to a fault, said, “I didn’t care it wasn’t the president. I was surprised I was going to get anything.” Still, he was impressed by the initial news. “To go to the White House and get a medal? I was surprised.”

Accompanied by Marie, Cassidy arrived at the Pentagon for the ceremony. Gathered around Cassidy were the FBI case agents who had watched over him for fifteen years: Jimmy Morrissey, Donald Gruentzel, and Charlie Bevels from the Washington field office, and Jack O’Flaherty and Dennis Dickson from Tampa. On hand as well was Eugene Peterson, the deputy chief of the Soviet section, who had supervised the operation for a decade. Instead of Nixon, General Creighton W. Abrams, the chief of staff of the United States Army, presented the medal to Cassidy on February 2.

Creighton Abrams, the son of a railway mechanic, was only five foot nine, but as compact as one of the tanks that he commanded in World War II, when he led a battalion onto the beaches of Normandy and later punched through the Nazi lines that had encircled the 101st Airborne division at Bastogne.¹

It was a proud moment for Cassidy. Wearing a seersucker jacket and a summer tie—he had just arrived from Florida—the former sergeant major, a tanned, white-haired, handsome figure, stood erect in the flag-bedecked office as General Abrams pinned the Distinguished Service Medal on him. The award is the fourth-highest U.S. military decoration, and the highest civilian noncombat medal. The accompanying citation read:

The United States of America

To all who shall see these presents, greeting:

This is to certify that the President of the United States of America authorized by act of Congress July 9, 1918 has awarded the Distinguished Service Medal to Sergeant Major Joseph Edward Cassidy for exceptionally meritorious service in a duty of great responsibility.

Marie Cassidy, too, received recognition from the government for her contribution to Operation
SHOCKER
. General Abrams presented her with the army’s certificate of appreciation and a citation, prepared and dated a month earlier, that read:

Mrs. Joseph Edward Cassidy

On the occasion of the retirement of her husband from active duty with the United States Army has earned the Army’s grateful appreciation for her own unselfish, faithful and devoted service. Her unfailing support and understanding helped to make possible her husband’s lasting contribution to the nation. Given under my hand this 2nd day of January 1974 Creighton W. Abrams (signature), General, United States Army, Chief of Staff.

After Abrams pinned on the medal and congratulated the Cassidys, the five FBI agents lined up behind Cassidy and his wife for an official photograph. Everyone was smiling.

Except for that brief moment when the picture was taken, there was no way that Cassidy could be allowed to wear his decoration; if seen, it might endanger the security of the entire operation. As soon as the secret ceremony was over, General Abrams took the medal back.

Cassidy, accompanied most
of the time by Marie, and Beau, their miniature poodle, began spying on military bases around the country for the GRU and writing detailed reports for the Russians on what he found. First, however, he sent the reports to the FBI. “They would screen them and tell me what I could give to the Russians.” The bureau provided him with a per diem allowance for his expenses on the road. Although Marie Cassidy did not make the drive to Dugway, she was at her husband’s side as he reconnoitered the bases at Key West, Charleston, and Slidell, Louisiana.

As a retired career military man, Cassidy, as he had explained to the Russians, had a sticker on his car that gave him access to any base in the country, whether army, navy, air force, or marine. He, Marie, and the dog could drive right in.

Cassidy used the special carbons that the Russians had supplied to record his observations in secret writing. When done, he steamed the pages to seal in the chemicals, then folded them several times to make them as small as possible in order to fit inside the fake rocks he passed to the Soviets.

Cassidy had already demonstrated that he was a good actor, and his handwritten memos proved him a good reporter as well, with a clear writing style and a trained eye. His report from the air force base at Charleston was a typical example.

The 437th Military Airlift Wing of the Military Airlift Command is stationed here. Inquiries revealed they provide airlift services, combat equipment and troops, to all parts of the world for all of the Dept. of Defense. They employ C-141 Starlifters but I did see a few other types of planes. Takeoffs and landings were numerous throughout the days I was there—so much so I thought there must be a training mission also but could not confirm.

There are about 8000 military and civilian personnel assigned. I roamed the base at will but found no ammo dumps. About 8 miles southeast of this base (see #2 on map), I located a U.S. Navy base. . . . I saw 10–15 large warships, several large landing crafts, at least 3 submarines which I was told were nuclear powered. These ships were anchored on the Cooper River. The roadway on the Cooper River side was fenced the entire length and all entrances to this area manned by guards. . . . A badge was required to gain admittance to any area on this side of the road.

Signs on buildings and fence of this area read “Mine Assembly Group” “Fleet and Marine Warfare Training Center” “Missile Submarine Training Center” “Submarine Squadron Four” “Nuclear Material Supply Center” and “Mercury Exclusion Area.”

Eight miles north of the base, Cassidy’s report continued, he found an installation with a sign at the entrance that read
POLARIS MISSILE FACILITY ATLANTIC
. He added: “I could not gain admission to this place but could only see large administration building and a few smaller buildings within. . . . A military shopping area was located for the next ½ mile and was outside fenced area.” Nearby, he reported he saw a sign for the General Dynamics Corporation, “indicating government contractors were active in the area.”

Next, Cassidy came upon a nearby naval weapons facility. “I proceeded to this facility and [in] about 1/2 mile I came to the guard gate (see #6 on map). Because of the military sticker on my car I am never questioned on entering a military base,” Cassidy reported. “But at this one I was stopped and asked the nature of my business.”

Now, for the first time on his trip, Cassidy was in a potentially tight spot. He knew he might have had some difficulty explaining matters.
Well, you see, I’m a Russian spy, but I’m not really a Russian spy, because I’m
actually working for the FBI, and no, I have no way to prove what I’m saying,
but please, fellows, I’m not making this up, you’ve got to believe me
. Cassidy also knew it might be a trifle awkward to explain away the map in the car on which he had pinpointed the location of every military base for miles around.

He need not have worried; security was loose as a goose. “I did not identify myself,” he wrote, “but explained I happened to be in the area and would like to see the base. He waved me through.” With a sigh of relief, Cassidy drove through the gate. Inside, “there were several guarded roads leading to interior of this area. As I left the facility returning to Route 52 I noticed the whole length of the south side of area along road was fenced and signs reading ‘Gov’t Property’ (See #7 on map). About 1½ miles there was a gate with guard shacks inside and sign reading ‘Munitions Trucks Entrance.’ There was some activity inside and several Navy pickup trucks were observed. . . . On one fence was sign ‘Group 8.’ ”

At Slidell, Cassidy had disappointing news for the Soviets, who had hoped he would find evidence of a clandestine nerve-gas storage area. There were no signs of the kind that warned “No Admittance—Gov’t Property,” and he added, “The whole area seemed a very unlikely place for 20 semi-underground repositories.” At Dugway, Cassidy had reported seeing the mounds with pipes sticking up out of them. There were no mounds at Slidell, nor did the base have roads of the sort that the army might use for transporting a cargo as delicate as nerve gas. “The road to the city airport, dump and golf course is one of the better ones in the area,” Cassidy reported, “but it is partially dirt and all chuck-holes.”

As a consolation prize, Cassidy told the GRU that he found a Slidell Computer Complex that belonged to NASA and was completely fenced and protected by uniformed guards. “About 200 cars in parking lot,” Cassidy noted.

On April 20,
1974, Cassidy was back in New York City for the second time. He drove to a drop site and put down a hollow rock containing reports of his trips to military bases in Florida. At 4
P.M
., he met Oleg Likhachev in front of a radio repair shop on East 233d Street in the Bronx. As the two walked along the street, Cassidy filled Likhachev in on the results of his reconnaissance. Likhachev asked Cassidy a lot of rapid-fire questions, whether he had obtained civilian employment with a printer, where he was hiding material from his wife, and what bases he would travel to next.

After their meeting, Cassidy went to pick up the rock the Soviets had hidden near the New York Botanical Garden. Cassidy began walking north on Webster Avenue toward the rock, which was secreted in a space between a garage wall and the end of a fence. As he did so, something spies always fear seemed about to happen.

Just as Cassidy approached the drop site, a little girl leaned over and reached for the rock. Dead drops are not foolproof; there is always a chance that someone will pick up one of the hollow rocks and discover its contents. The little girl almost had the rock in her grasp when her mother shooed her away.

Relieved, Cassidy scooped up the rock and hurried off. To signal he had cleared the drop, he then drove into Manhattan to leave a line on the same lamppost he had marked five months before. After that, he again joined O’Flaherty at the house on Rockaway Point.

Breaking open the rock,
WALLFLOWER
and the FBI agents found an A&P matchbook with the word
Raincheck
on the cover. Under the second
c
was the microdot with new instructions.

On October 19, Cassidy returned to New York for another meeting with the Soviets, and once again the unexpected happened at a drop site. At 2
P.M
., Cassidy was supposed to leave his rock at the base of a tree near the end of a footbridge that crossed the Belt Parkway in Brooklyn. As he approached the drop, he saw smoke billowing up. A teenager had flicked a cigarette into a trash heap near the tree. Someone had turned in an alarm, and the New York City fire department was on its way; Cassidy could hear the sirens getting closer. He hesitated, then decided to stick to the plan. He dropped the rock and fled.

Only minutes after Cassidy scrambled out of the way, there were fire trucks and hoses all over the place. In an apartment building overlooking the site, the two FBI agents covering the drop could hardly believe the pandemonium unfolding before their eyes. This was definitely not in the script. Special Agent Jim Lancaster, whose Deep South accent marked him as an alien in Brooklyn, recalled the scene. “There was this fire, and the rock was right by a tree. Me and Ricky Shapiro were looking out the window and we said, ‘Oh god, the fire department is going to see this funny rock, and it’s going to burn up.’ ”

To the agents’ relief, the rock and its flammable contents survived the blaze intact. Two hours later, Cassidy was walking along Sixty-fourth Avenue in Queens, as he had been instructed to do on the microdot in the matchbook, when Likhachev fell into step beside him. Cassidy told the GRU man that he had looked for a civilian job in Tampa at the United States Readiness Command (REDCOM), as STRICOM was now called, but none was available.

Likhachev asked how the Morse transmissions were going, whether Cassidy was receiving them at the “principal time.” Cassidy said he was; he had not had to use the alternate transmission times that the Russians had provided as backup.

At their next meeting in March, Likhachev said, he would explain a new code. Likhachev asked whether Cassidy might be able to obtain topographical maps; after discussing that, they parted. Cassidy drove to Brooklyn to pick up Likhachev’s rock, then into Manhattan to mark the same lamp pole, and back to Rockaway Point to meet with the FBI.

Cassidy continued visiting and reporting on military bases around the country, and in March he returned to New York, drove to Brooklyn, and hid a hollow rock on the south side of Holy Cross Cemetery, near Cortelyou Road. Two hours later, he rendezvoused with Likhachev on a park bench in Brooklyn. After their meeting, he drove into Manhattan, and this time he left a piece of yellow tape facing outward on a lamppost at York Avenue and Ninety-first Street. The day ended, as usual, at Rockaway Point.

Six months later, in late September, Cassidy was back in Brooklyn, hiding a rock at another cemetery two hours before he met Likhachev near the Fort Hamilton athletic field. They discussed Cassidy’s latest surveys of military bases, and the Morse transmissions. Likhachev said a new person would be his contact at the next meeting in April 1976; Cassidy should be ready to use the parol, since they did not know each other. But the new Mike, Likhachev assured him, would be up to speed on the case.