Kagnew Station: Dateline 1956: A Sequel to the Alan Harper Trilogy

By Joseph W. Michels

Kagnew Station, a U.S. military base set in the Horn of Africa, was tasked with handling critical radio communication between far-flung Army, Navy and Consular entities. In addition, it served as a super secret listening post staffed by personnel from the Army Security Agency, the National Security Agency, and the CIA. By the Fall of 1956, there were two thousand Americans at the base—military, civilian, and dependents—with more on the way. As a result, a major expansion of the base, and a thorough upgrade of its radio transmitting, receiving, and surveillance technology was well underway.

A little over a month earlier, on July 26, 1956, Nasser nationalized the Suez Canal, upsetting well-established security interests throughout the Middle East. Nasser turned to the Soviet Union for help, giving it leverage in its attempt to secure a new strategic military presence in the area, including in the Red Sea. Worried about the vulnerability of Kagnew Station to newly emboldened Soviet intrigue, the CIA instructs Alan Harper, a young covert CIA officer, to go to Asmara, Eritrea, and assess the base’s security risk—not only from Soviet-inspired political action, but also from Soviet-engineered sabotage. Using his cover as a freelance journalist, Harper arrives ostensibly to do a newspaper article on the relocation and expansion of Kagnew Station, giving him entrée to senior military, diplomatic, and civic leaders, as well as with Eritrean students and local businessmen. The situation becomes dangerous, both to himself and to the base, once Harper learns of the presence of a four-man Soviet cell and puts it under surveillance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jun 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9781663241610

Joseph W. Michels

JOSEPH W. MICHELS came to fiction writing after a long career as an archaeologist and cultural anthropologist. KAGNEW STATION: DATELINE 1956 is a sequel to the ALAN HARPER TRILOGY. The author became acquainted with Kagnew Station in 1974 while directing a large archaeological project in the region. The project’s headquarters was two blocks from the entrance to Kagnew Station and the project’s staff made extensive use of the base’s facilities.

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Copyright © 2022 Joseph W. Michels.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means,

graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by

any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author

except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue

in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Credit for cover art photo:

Copyright © 1958 Frank Griffiths

Credit for author photo:

Copyright © 2021 Joseph W. Michels

Credit for all four maps:

Copyright © 2022 Joseph W. Michels

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ISBN: 978-1-6632-4160-3 (sc)

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iUniverse rev. date:  06/25/2022

CONTENTS

Acknowledgement

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

The novel takes place in the Fall of 1956. Securing a photo of the iconic Main Gate of the base dating to about that time proved a difficult task until I discovered a wide angle photo taken by Frank Griffiths in 1958 and published on the Kagnew Station Homepage website. Through the good offices of Rick Fortney, webmaster for the Kagnew Station Homepage, I made email contact with Frank who graciously permitted me to use the photo on the book’s cover.

Red%20Sea--Southern%20Region.jpgKagnew%20Tract%20A.jpgKagnew%20Tract%20E.jpgAsmara%20Map.jpg

CHAPTER ONE

Alan Harper exited the Ethiopian Airways Douglas DC-6B aircraft at Cairo’s Heliopolis airport once the mobile stair ramp had been secured by ground personnel. It was a late morning in early September and Harper along with the other passengers stoically made their way across the tarmac towards the entrance to the transit lounge where they’d been asked to remain while the plane was being refueled for its final run to Addis Ababa.

Harper glanced up at the sun as he walked—confirming the source of the searing heat arising from the tarmac. He’d hoped morning temperatures during their stopover would be somewhere in the low eighties, but no such luck; he figured the temperature had already climbed into the nineties. He shrugged stoically, knowing he’d soon be enjoying the more benign climate of Addis—a city almost 8,000 feet above sea level.

Almost as soon as he entered the transit lounge Harper spotted his old CIA Cairo Station contact, P. J. Meyer. Meyer, he noted, had secured a couple of seats off to the side where they could talk more privately. Harper approached him.

Grab a seat…let’s talk, said Meyer as he shook Harper’s hand.

Harper loosened his tie before sitting down, aware the slowly rotating overhead fans didn’t do much to alter the stifling heat inside the room.

I take it you received the cable from Langley indicating your new home base will be Beirut…at least until some time in the future when the Egyptian authorities forgive you for your recent escapades in Libya, said Meyer.

Yeah…I did, replied Harper, thinking back on it. And I’m guessing it’ll be a while before that happens, he added morosely. Still, I appreciated receiving the cable while I was still in Athens…it gave me time to consolidate everything I’d need for the Asmara assignment into a single suitcase…the other suitcase with all the rest of my stuff I was able to ship off to Anne Small in Beirut. She’ll hold on to it until I show up..

Glad it worked out, said Meyer, who then added after a pause, Well, I guess it’s my job to brief you on your forthcoming assignment. He handed Harper a large thick envelope. It contains a background report on the city of Asmara as well as on Kagnew Station, together with some Ethiopian currency and some maps.

Harper opened the envelope and cursorily examined the contents, What’s so special about this military base that warrants CIA involvement? I’d imagine the U.S. Army has its own investigative capability should a threat present itself.

As a matter of fact it does; a rather robust capability I might add, but generally military counter-intelligence operatives are put in play only after a threat is detected or anticipated. In this case, we’re dealing with an unusual set of historical circumstances in a rapidly changing political environment, but before I get into that you need to know why Kagnew Station is so special, commented Meyer.

Okay, I’m listening, said Harper, curious.

Kagnew Station serves as a critical radio transmission and receiving platform within the government’s worldwide communications network. Because of its location—15 degrees north of the equator and at an elevation of 7600 feet—radio signals are anomalously propagated to an extraordinary extent, giving the base an inherent ability to relay radio signals to the U.S., Asia, the Middle East, Europe, North Africa…even the Pacific Theatre.

So, it would seem to be a ripe target for hostile initiatives of one sort or another, commented Harper.

Some in the State Department believe it is and that’s why you’re being sent to Asmara, said Meyer. However, in addition to being confident the base is militarily secure, the Army has historically relied on the fact the base is located in a city supportive of the base’s presence, and in a country friendly to U.S. interests, to be of the opinion that no imminent threat exists.

I gather I’m being asked to check it out…but covertly, observed Harper as he thought about what Meyer had been saying.

Yeah…as a freelance journalist you won’t be raising the hackles of any of the military brass or American government types you’ll come in contact with, said Meyer.

But what’s my angle…why hypothetically speaking has my news agency requested I do a piece on Kagnew Station at this particular time? asked Harper.

A couple of reasons, Harper, replied Meyer. First, the base is widely regarded as one of the best duty assignments anywhere—with a whole host of recreational options on or near the base, including hunting, and within easy reach of the Red Sea where world class fishing, snorkeling and waterskiing awaits. But it’s also a base that’s situated in a small picturesque Italian colonial city with fine Italian restaurants, strikingly modernist Italian architecture, and a climate often described as nothing less than 13 months of sunshine.

And the second reason? pressed Harper.

The second reason is what makes this journalistic assignment so timely and your undercover work so critical, explained Meyer. Kagnew Station is in the process of moving to a brand new base less than a mile away from its present location—a move that allows for the facility to be thoroughly upgraded and expanded.

Harper took a moment to let Meyer’s remarks sink in, then asked, Who’ll know the real reason I’m there, and who do I report to?

Meyer hesitated before answering, The politics on the ground are a bit complicated, Harper. Normally, our ambassador in Addis would be a key player in what goes on in Asmara with regard to the base, but as it happens the U.S. Consulate in Asmara reports directly to Washington, bypassing the U.S. Embassy. But since the principal consular officer at the consulate is merely a Consul, a rank equivalent to a Lt. Colonel in the military, the base commander—being a bird colonel—outranks him. What all this means is that the State Department isn’t in a position to dictate policy when it comes to Kagnew Station. For State to have any leverage it’ll have to supply evidence of a serious threat before the Army will get on board.

Harper nodded, So, I guess the Consul has been apprised of my assignment.

Meyer shook his head, No…he hasn’t, and the reason is that one of the things we’ll be asking you to do is to determine the merits of assigning a CIA agent to the consulate on a more or less permanent basis. The Consul will no doubt perceive such a prospect as further eroding his authority knowing any CIA officer stationed at the consulate would not be reporting to him but to Langley.

Harper shook his head in disbelief, What I hear you saying is that there’ll be no one in Asmara or in Addis aware of why I’m really in the country.

Meyer shrugged, Yeah, that’s basically the case.

And no backup either, I suppose, added Harper ruefully.

Meyer nodded, It’ll be like your Cyrenaica assignment…you’ll be expected to improvise backup. Then Meyer gave Harper a wry smile, Actually, there are at least three CIA agents working at Kagnew Station, but they’re cryptologists analyzing Middle Eastern and Soviet radio traffic along with a team of National Security Agency personnel.

Wait…I thought you said this was a communications relay station, argued Harper.

Meyer put up a hand, I didn’t steer you wrong, Harper, it is, but it’s also a clandestine listening post staffed by CIA and National Security Agency personnel under the auspices of the Army Security Agency. I should also add there’s a small U.S. Navy presence owing to the importance of the base in relaying radio traffic to and from U.S. submarines out in the Pacific.

Jesus! And you’re saying the Army is pretty relaxed about the security threat? commented Harper, perplexed.

Well, it isn’t as if the Army is being blatantly irresponsible, Harper, countered Meyer. The clandestine operation is housed in a bunker-like underground structure with walls and roof constructed of ten inch bomb-proof concrete and located in a fenced stand-alone tract of land.

Somewhat mollified, Harper changed the subject, Who do I report to? I’m assuming it isn’t to CIA’s station chief in Addis.

You’ll be reporting to me, replied Meyer. Langley regards Eritrea as well within the orbit of our Middle Eastern franchise, and since I’ve served as your contact previously it was felt we’d best maintain that relationship. The only difference is that in my dealings with you I’m to report directly to Langley, not to the CIA station chief in Cairo.

Well, for your sake I’ll try this time to avoid getting myself in the kind of ticklish situation where Langley has to request a U.S. Navy destroyer extraction, said Harper with a hint of a smile.

That’s no laughing matter, Harper, said Meyer sternly. Langley wasn’t happy about having to make that call to the Navy for assistance in getting you safely out of Bengazi last month.

I know, said Harper sympathetically, but knowing the CIA has that kind of clout is pretty reassuring to guys like me who are inserted into hostile settings without even any backup.

Meyer simply shook his head.

Okay…let’s move on…what’s the local history you say you need to fill me in on? asked Harper.

Meyer took a moment to organize his thoughts, then said, Four years ago the UN turned Eritrea over to Ethiopia…it was dressed up as a federated link, one that would ensure Eritrea managed much of its own affairs, but no one was fooled—especially the Eritreans—Ethiopia intended to call all the shots. And over the ensuing years that’s what seems to have been happening. The Eritreans aren’t happy about it and feelings of resentment are growing. So far, anger has been directed exclusively at Ethiopia, not at the U.S. despite the fact we played a key role in having Eritrea put under the thumb of Haile Selassie, the Emperor of Ethiopia.

Then three years ago, Ethiopia and the U.S. signed a 25-year mutual defense treaty giving the U.S. rights to what is now Kagnew Station. In the years since then the U.S. Army has been beefing up Kagnew’s operations and bringing in more and more personnel. A growing number of dependents have also arrived. In short, the base has become what is without a doubt the most important engine driving the local economy.

What I’m trying to convey, Harper, is how unstable the situation has become: relations between Eritrea and Ethiopia are worsening; Kagnew Station’s footprint is getting bigger and bigger; Eritrean calls for independence are becoming more vocal; the Soviet presence in the Middle East is growing. All of this makes the State Department nervous.

I get what you’re saying, commented Harper, and I imagine I’ll find more on these matters when I read the written brief that’s been placed in the envelope. My question is how intrusive do you want me to be?

Give it a full court press, Harper…stick you nose into everything, replied Meyer. The State Department needs to know what’s really going on, particularly as it affects the continued operation of Kagnew Station.

Okay, said Harper as he rose from his seat.

And by the way, you should try to make friends with one of the officers in the Stratcom unit at Kagnew. He’ll be able to facilitate your firing off a secure cable to me in case you need to transmit sensitive information, said Meyer as he shook Harper’s hand.

Will do, replied Harper just as an announcement was broadcast over the terminal’s loudspeaker system requesting all passengers to return to the plane.

Good luck, Harper, said Meyer.

Harper nodded, then turned and headed for the door at the far end of the transit lounge where he could see other passengers filing out onto the tarmac.

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The plane was being buffeted severely by a rainstorm as the pilot struggled to keep the craft on the glide path to the runway. Harper stared out the cabin window, but because of the dark storm clouds he couldn’t see any sign of the city that lay immediately below. Up until then, Harper had regarded the five hour flight as uneventful—just a pleasant interlude during which he’d had time to reflect on his conversation with Meyer, and to begin working out in his mind how best to begin once he made it all the way to Asmara.

The buffeting was getting progressively more violent as the craft neared the touchdown point on the runway. Harper could almost sense the struggle the pilot was having as he tried to keep the craft level enough for both sets of landing wheels to touch the tarmac simultaneously.

The passengers gave out a loud cheer as the wheels of the plane gripped the tarmac, but then sat nervously in their seats as the pilot worked hard to keep the craft under control as it raced down the runway. Finally, the plane slowed, and Harper and the other passengers could see in the distance lights from the terminal building. Minutes later, the craft reached the Arrivals area and came to a stop.

After a brief delay, flight attendants allowed passengers to leave their seats. Harper watched as they busied themselves gathering up personal items in preparation for deplaning. Most were Ethiopians on their way back from trips abroad, but a handful were Europeans or Americans—people like himself—coming to one of the great cities of Africa on business or in government service.

Finally, a mobile stair ramp was put in place and the cabin door opened. Ground crew gave a helping hand to several passengers who were intent on scrambling hastily down the boarding stairs in their haste to get out of the rain and into the Arrivals lounge. Harper stepped aside to let them pass.

Passport control was uneventful for Harper; he’d already been vetted while securing a visa at the Ethiopian embassy in Athens. He took his time walking over to the luggage pickup area. He was in no rush; his flight to Asmara wasn’t until early the next day.

Finally, luggage in hand, he headed outside to where he’d been told he could secure a taxi. Take me to the nearest luxury-class hotel, instructed Harper as he handed his suitcase to the taxi driver.

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By the following morning the storm had passed, leaving the sky a cloudless blue. Harper was already at the Addis airport where boarding of the Ethiopian Airlines DC-3 en route to Asmara was just about to commence. Among the passengers queuing up was a young woman who Harper suspected might be an American. The Ethiopian passengers who had lined up immediately behind the woman, probably believing Harper was her husband, made room so that he could slip into the queue next to her.

I guess they think I’m with you, said Harper apologetically.

The woman turned to face him, paused a moment to scrutinize the tall American. He was wearing a dark colored, tropical weight suit, white dress shirt and tie. But in her mind his choice of shoes gave a lie to the apparent formality of his dress—a highly polished pair of casual penny loafers.

Harper, trying to be courteous, removed his aviation sun glasses once he realized she was checking him out.

Amused by his gentlemanly gesture, she smiled, I can see why they might have assumed that, she said in unmistakably American English. I’m Laura Johnson…and you?

Alan Harper…from Illinois.

Just then, the line began to move as passengers were urged to move out onto the tarmac.

You want to sit together? asked Harper.

Sure, replied Laura.

Once inside the cabin, Harper quickly secured one of the few remaining two-seat arrangements on the cabin’s port side; only single seats lined the starboard side. He gestured for Laura to take the window seat. They were too absorbed in watching the hectic activity in the cabin to carry on a conversation as passengers stowed packages and personal items, retrieved and buckled seat belts, or solicited assistance from the flight stewardess. But finally the prop engines were revved up and the plane began to taxi towards the runway.

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