"You mean letting those losers take back control of the three Baltic countries? Isn't that a bit too unrealistic?" When President Mario first heard Gates' plan, his immediate reaction was to refuse—so much so that he momentarily forgot he had originally intended to blame Gates for failures in strategic propaganda.
Gates paced back and forth in the office, excitement visible as he laid out his ideas to Mario. "No, this isn't some fantasy. It's an actionable plan. We all know the Soviet Union has suppressed the Baltic peoples with harsh, high-pressure tactics, but that doesn't mean their spirit is broken. The Estonians and others still resist. What they need now is a spiritual leader to rally them. I believe it's time for the exile governments to call for revolt once again."
"A riot? Are you sure that will work?" Mario sounded skeptical. Unlike President Bush, who let the CIA stir trouble in Eastern Europe, Mario kept a tight rein on the agency's purse strings. To him, any move without clear impact was unacceptable.
"I want to know, after spending all that money, arming them—what real results can the CIA produce? Another Bay of Pigs? Or maybe just another Los Angeles riot?" Mario deliberately referenced the recent LA riots, a warning that failure would bring severe consequences. If Gates didn't deliver, he'd feel the full brunt of the president's displeasure.
Gates suddenly grew nervous. He hadn't expected Mario to demand a formal "military order." He had hoped only that the president would sign off on the funds for the operation, not force a promise of success. For a moment, Gates felt trapped, with no way out.
"Of course, I guarantee the president will be satisfied with the outcome," Gates said, teeth clenched. His answer was ambiguous—neither fully committing nor denying—leaving room for maneuver. He pressed on because the CIA had been planning this for nearly four months, already making contact with opposition forces inside the Baltic countries. Given US arms, an armed uprising could be triggered.
That was why Gates dared take this risk: turning the Baltic states into a new Bay of Pigs scenario, sparking a fresh national crisis within the Soviet Union at a fraction of the cost of overthrowing Castro. To him, the gamble was worth it.
"Very well." To Gates' surprise, Mario didn't hesitate and signed the approval documents immediately. Handing the papers over, he said, "I hope you won't let me down, Gates. Whether the Soviet Union makes a major mistake on ethnic policy this time depends on you."
Mario was not one to expect others to thrive if he himself wasn't secure. The US had suffered great losses during the LA incident, so the Soviet Union's ethnic issues must be exploited. If there was fire in his own backyard, he was determined to set fire in theirs.
"I won't let the president down," Gates said firmly. His hands trembled slightly as he took the document. Whether success or failure, this would be a historic moment. The CIA would craft a grand narrative about making the Soviet Union pay dearly.
After leaving the presidential office, Gates finally exhaled in relief. Had Mario refused, he would have quietly diverted CIA funds to continue independent political action in the Baltics, even secretly giving some money to Vytautas. Thankfully, the president's decision spared him that worry.
Next came the hard part: dealing with the three Baltic nations. Back at CIA headquarters, Gates clapped his hands in the lobby, calling out excitedly, "No slacking, everyone! Get moving and finish our plan. The president has approved us—let's make this operation a success!"
Almost everyone cheered. They'd been waiting for such a major mission. The CIA had even assigned one-third of its staff to this anti-Soviet effort. Gates named it "Strike Back by the Free World"—a revenge operation for previous Soviet provocations.
After the Beslan incident, Gates wanted to shake the Soviet giant again, aiming to consolidate his career by striking a decisive blow. Soon after, Vytautas called, bursting with good news.
"Yes, Director Gates. We've made contact with secret groups in Lithuania and Latvia. Despite relentless Soviet crackdowns over the past year, their main forces remain intact. They control key ports, and we can ship weapons in from the Polish border. The liberation groups are ready for a counterattack."
"Excellent," Gates said, genuinely moved by the report. "How many fighters do they have so I can prepare enough weapons?"
Vytautas replied, "About a thousand, mostly young anti-Soviet activists, plus some former Soviet soldiers of Baltic ethnicity. But their situation is dire. Most lack firearms, and only a few have small-caliber pistols."
Hearing that the main force consisted mostly of young people without any military training, Gates immediately doubted their combat effectiveness. "How about this? You smuggle some of these young fighters into Poland, where they can receive proper armed training."
As the frontline buffer against the Soviet Union and Russia, Poland had long been practically an enemy of the Soviets—roots tracing back to the First Republic. This history gave the CIA a legitimate reason to establish safe houses and training camps there, arming and training anti-Soviet elements on Polish soil. Since Poland regained independence in 1989, it naturally grew closer to NATO and the United States. Poland's ambition was to become a powerful Central European state again and revive the spirit of the First Republic. Now, the chance to fight the Soviet Union was right in front of them. Poland joined the covert campaign against the "Red Bear" without hesitation.
The CIA planned to train some Polish youth as elite snipers. Even if the uprising failed, targeted assassinations could continue to harass Soviet officials for years. The CIA never took losses lightly; every move was carefully calculated.
"Alright," Vytautas replied. "We'll have the resistance pick a few capable people to be sent to Poland for training." After discussing some other key details with Gates, he hung up and began preparing a fresh strategy.
Meanwhile, Gates called the CIA's director of strategic operations in Central Europe. He proposed recruiting a group of professional soldiers with substantial funding—combat-ready mercenaries to coordinate with Baltic resistance fighters and escalate armed unrest. Gates stressed the importance of keeping their backgrounds simple, to avoid KGB infiltration.
What the CIA didn't realize was that while they plotted with enthusiasm, the very same intelligence report landed on Yanaev's desk. It detailed the recent moves of the Baltic resistance groups. Thanks to this, the Soviet Union had a clear picture of the complex underground networks operating in the three Baltic states.
Director Gates had overlooked one crucial fact: every step he took unfolded exactly as he had envisioned. But he hadn't considered—was the enemy truly that incompetent? Or was he blindly marching into a far more intricate trap?