F OCUS - American Foreign Service Association

authority and against the advice of
almost all his colleagues to go to
Moscow to negotiate with the Kremlin.
He was warmly welcomed by
Brezhnev, who used Svoboda’s presence
to convince thousands of Russians
watching their caravan come up
Leninskiy Prospekt in Moscow that
Soviet forces had rescued socialism
from its enemies.
Svoboda returned to Prague on
Aug. 27, bringing back the kidnapped
leaders but also a bilateral “agreement”
that was immediately recognized
by a shocked country as total
capitulation. Dubcek, having convinced
himself that he could help stave
off the worst, became a reluctant collaborator
in a process known as “normalization.”
Josef Smrkovsky, now
chairman of the Czechoslovak Parliament,
told the truth to the end, arguing
for Czechoslovak national unity —
but the Soviets saw this as a code
name for resistance. They isolated
and ultimately disposed of him.
It nevertheless required a provocation
adroitly organized by the Czech
Ministry of the Interior to force the
resignation of Dubcek as the last symbol
of the Prague Spring. The Czech
security forces, in conjunction with the
KGB, took advantage of a huge patriotic
demonstration in the heart of
Prague in late March 1969 to smash
and destroy the Aeroflot and Intourist
offices in Prague, an act to which I was
an eyewitness. Dubcek was replaced
in April, after 15 months as first secretary
of the party, by Gustav Husak,
another Slovak and a self-styled realist
who had played a “Slovak card” to
undermine the last vestiges of the
Prague Spring.
The Embassy
During the Crisis
Our small embassy (10 FSOs, two
military attachés, a small CIA station,
secretaries, communicators and Marine
guards) had been a main target in
the gloomy second half of 1967, when
56 FOREIGN SERVICE JOURNAL/JULY-AUGUST 2008
The reaction of
individuals at the top
level of the U.S.
government to the
August events was not
a shining moment of
American diplomacy.
its mission of building bridges to
Czechoslovakia was impeded by the
regime’s need to find a foreign culprit
for its internal problems. Even in
1968 things were not much better, as
the largely unreformed Czechoslovak
Foreign Ministry — which U.S.
Ambassador Jacob Beam rightly
termed “mischief-making” — tried to
pacify Moscow by accentuating differences
with the United States.
Czechoslovakia continued to be the
number-three purveyor of military
assistance to North Vietnam and helpfully
organized disruptive protests
around the embassy. But
through quiet diplomacy, the embassy
had nevertheless been building
bridges to economic reformers, intellectuals
and other receptive progressives.
The informed population regarded
us as friends.
The embassy covered the invasion
on the streets of Prague from the first
report that Soviet aircraft (250 of
them, landing audibly one minute
apart) were transporting troops and
armor to crush the Prague Spring. We
were on the street well before dawn
on Aug. 21, and throughout the invasion,
to provide the department with
timely first-hand reporting on what
was transpiring, particularly the mag-
nificent passive resistance of the population.
Our primary obligation was to
American citizens, of course. Those
few embassy wives still in Prague,
including mine, opened the embassy
commissary to feed hungry citizens
flocking there. Many were billeted by
our Marines. On Aug. 22, the embassy
organized a convoy to deliver
American citizens to the West German
border. Hundreds remained,
however, and the Foreign Ministry
was unwilling or unable to help. The
airport was closed, and the main railway
station occupied by Soviet troops.
At the request of Amb. Beam, I
placed a direct phone call later that
day to a vice minister of transport with
whom I was acquainted. By luck I got
him on the line and asked for a special
train to take out Americans and other
foreigners. I thought he would inquire
if I knew there was a war on.
Instead, he responded affirmatively
but said the train would have to depart
southward from an alternate station.
Our stalwart consular section organized
the evacuation of those wishing
to travel, and the train rescued hundreds
of trapped and worried citizens
and foreigners alike.
Our reward came in the wee hours
of Aug. 26, 1968, when we learned
that the attic of the chancery — where
most of us also resided — was on fire.
The Prague fire department could not
help because of a Soviet curfew prohibiting
any movement by night. With
the leadership of a single gallant
seabee and a solitary fire hose, supplemented
by a bucket brigade up slippery,
smoke-filled stairs, we battled for
three hours in the darkness to save the
chancery from destruction while our
dependents waited outside, ready to
evacuate the premises if necessary.
Washington, Moscow
and Prague
The reaction of individuals at the
top level of the U.S. government to