With this simple trick, the Soviet Union managed to sneak thousands of soldiers into Syria in 1983 during the Lebanese civil war, in which Syria, Moscow’s close ally, was deeply involved.
Valery
S. Anisimov, then a 19-year-old draftee, recalled that his boxy Defense
Ministry-issued gray suit was several sizes too large. “It was not
something I would have bought myself,” he said. But the cruise ship,
Ukraina, which left from a Black Sea port, slipped unmolested through
the strait in Turkey, a NATO member, and on to Syria.
It is an effort with clear implications for the veterans of Russia’s
more recent secret deployments, to Ukraine and Syria under various
guises — as so-called green men in uniforms without insignia,
“vacationers” in eastern Ukraine or humanitarian aid workers in Syria.
Mr.
Anisimov is lobbying for a bill granting the status of combat veterans
to the covert soldiers, about 800 of whom are alive today, according to a
draft of the law. Parliament on Dec. 4 delayed a planned first reading
of the bill, which would entitle them to additional pension payments for
combat service. “It is important that the government recognize our
service to the motherland,” Mr. Anisimov said in an interview. The
Defense Ministry never declassified the “comrade tourist” deployment, so
the veterans never received the extra benefits.
“Our documents are all secret,” Mr. Anisimov said. “They are so secret nobody can find them.”
In
the war in eastern Ukraine, thousands of Russian soldiers served on the
pro-Russian rebel side, but their status is disputed. Western
governments say they were on active duty; Russia says they were
volunteers.
A
leader of the pro-Russian separatists, Aleksandr V. Zakharchenko, said
in 2014, at the height of the war, that between 3,000 to 4,000 Russian
soldiers were fighting on the rebel side, but all the while on their
vacations. “There are active soldiers fighting among us who preferred to
spend their vacation not on the beach but among their brothers, who are
fighting for freedom,” he said.
Such
unacknowledged deployments form one element of the broad doctrine of
maskirovka, or masking, which encompasses a range of ideas about
misdirection and misinformation that military analysts say is integral
to Russian operations and has been for some time. “The Russian approach
demonstrates remarkable historical continuity,” wrote Dmitry Adamsky, a
professor at the Lauder School of Government, Diplomacy and Strategy in
Herzliya, Israel, in a research paper about Russian psychological
warfare published last month.
The
doctrine of maskirovka, he wrote, is “one of the main virtues of the
Soviet-Russian intelligence and military art — a repertoire of denial,
deception, propaganda, camouflage, and concealment,” as useful today as
it was decades ago. Soviet maps, for example, often included
inaccuracies that frustrated drivers but served a national security
purpose: If taken by a spy, they would confuse an invading army as
apparently useful roads, for example, led into swamps.
In
another example, the Russian military makes and exports bulky, rubber
inflatable versions of most of its tanks and rocket launchers, to trick
spotter planes.
Last
summer, as the United States said Russia was shipping military
equipment to an air base at Latakia, in Syria, Moscow said it was
humanitarian aid, before shifting gears and publicly announcing a
deployment. The men in green who appeared on Ukraine’s Crimea Peninsula
in February 2014 were said to be a local militia or members of
motorcycle gangs. President Vladimir V. Putin has since acknowledged
that they were soldiers.
The
bill Mr. Anisimov helped write tries to correct what he sees as an
injustice imposed on soldiers who served such an operation decades ago.
President Hafez al-Assad,
the father of the current embattled Syrian president, Bashar al-Assad,
had intervened in the Lebanese civil war but quickly suffered setbacks
in fighting with Israel’s superior military, which had invaded southern Lebanon
in clashes with the Palestine Liberation Organization. In a secret
visit to Moscow, he convinced the Soviet leadership that its support was
crucial to maintaining a balance of powers in the Middle East, and soon
enough a sightseeing trip was being planned.
“In
cooperation with the Syrian air defense forces, on a war footing and in
lethal danger, the regiments took active part in rebuffing Israeli
airstrikes,” the Russian draft law says of the soldier-tourists in Syria
in the 1980s. In short, they were not merely taking in the sights.
Yet
this service was whitewashed from the historical record. “In the files
of the officers, it was written that ‘from 1983 to 1984 they served in
air defenses in the Moscow region,’ ” the draft law notes. “Not one
legal act has been taken to create conditions to support a dignified
life, gainful activities, honor and respect in society,” for the
tourists, it says. “Passing this law will restore historical justice.”
If
designated as combat veterans, participants would be entitled to
additional pension payments of 2,500 rubles, or about $36, per month,
priority consideration for state-provided apartments and access to
veterans hospitals. But that designation would raise delicate questions.
Mikhail
V. Degtyaryov, a lawmaker with the nationalist Liberal Democratic Party
of Russia who sponsored the bill, said it should not be read as a sign
that Russia would eventually own up to the deployment of “vacationers”
in eastern Ukraine. “So many years went by, it’s just history now,” he
said of the Syrian operation.
In
total, according to the draft law in Parliament, about 6,000 soldiers
in two air defense units served in Syria in 1983 and 1984. These units
left from the port of Nikolayev, now known as Mykolaiv, in Ukraine on
cruise ships.
Commanders
ordered soldiers to grow their hair long and paint their equipment,
sent separately in civilian cargo ships, in desert camouflage colors.
The suits, Mr. Anisimov said, were issued in three colors: gray, black
and blue. Once in Syria, the soldiers wore Syrian military uniforms.
On
the day of the departure, a local newspaper reported this large group
of lithe and healthy young men, mostly all the same age of about 20,
were setting out on a cruise they had won in a socialist competition.
Aleksei S. Diyakov, then a captain in the air defense forces, said the
men gleefully played along. “The Russians know dramaturgy,” he said. “We
used the Stanislavsky method.”
Passing
through the Dardanelles in Turkey, they were ordered to sit quietly in
their cabins below deck, lest an American warship sailing nearby and
bristling with listening equipment pick up their conversations.
Waitresses
in the ship’s restaurant kept up the ruse, flirtatiously calling the
young men “comrade tourists,” Mr. Anisimov said. “We joked with them,
saying ‘You see we are not tourists,’ ” he said. “And they would say,
‘Shush, oh, no, please don’t joke with us that way.’ ”
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