The CIA's Bold Kidnapping of a Soviet Spacecraft

One day in late 1959 or 1960 -- dates aren't totally clear in declassified documents -- a crack team of four CIA agents worked through the night in stocking feet taking apart a kidnapped Soviet Lunik spacecraft without removing it from its crate. They photographed every part and documented every construction element, then perfectly reassembled the whole thing without leaving a trace. It was a daring bit of espionage at the early years of the space race. Intended to level the playing field between two international superpowers, it was a heist that risked turning the cold war hot.

Luna 1 The Soviet Luna 1 ended up in orbit around the Sun. via NASA

On January 2, 1959, the Soviet Union kicked off its Luna program, sometimes called Lunik by the Western media, with the launch of Luna 1. This first spacecraft missed the Moon, but the next hit the target and became the first spacecraft to impact the lunar surface in September of that year. A month later on October 7, Luna 3 returned history's first ever pictures of the Moon’s farside. It was a stunning year for the Soviets on the Moon, one in which the United States only racked up a handful of failed lunar missions. The effect, aside from a blow to national morale, was a devastating effect on the American psyche. However exciting these missions were to space fans, they brought with them the terrifying reality that the enemy had bigger boosters and more advanced technology. The disparity between American technology and the perceived Soviet power led to an intelligence program run by the CIA. By studying Soviet spacecraft and space missions, the agency hoped to not only anticipate launches and their impact on the public but also to adjust American launch schedules to better keep pace with the enemy. Even educated guesses about Soviets plans would help the United States know where to concentrate its efforts to hopefully overtake the Soviet Union in space. It would be useful for the US armed forces to have a handle on Soviet hardware to know what might give way to an offensive military spinoff. And this intelligence would also help American leaders be better prepared to respond to a new Soviet threat should one arise. This intelligence effort focused on what was available from afar. Namely electronic intelligence, tracking the telemetry and intercepting data downlinks to gain a complete understanding of Soviet missions. But this was not without its challenges. US agents had to anticipate launches to be ready on time, and they were then forced to sift through telemetry without knowing the values of data assigned to channels or baseline measurements. Post-flight analysis was another important element of this intelligence program. Taking as complete a data set as possible about the spacecraft's peak altitude, target body, and rocket stage landing site at the end of mission to extrapolate data about the size and power of the boosters launching these space missions. But all this was only part of the puzzle, and because each mission was different, each was like a “fresh flare in the sky” that demanded a new and often imaginative effort to learn what was really going on. And nothing was a more daring or imaginative intelligence effort than the decision to kidnap a Lunik upper stage to really understand this spacecraft.

The Moon from Luna 3 NASA/Soviet space agency

Sometime between the end of 1959 and 1960, the Soviet Union toured several countries with an exhibit of its industrial and economic achievements. Among the artifacts were a Sputnik and a Lunik upper stage that contained the payload, the latter freshly painted with viewing windows cut into the nose. At first blush, many in the CIA assumed the touring Lunik was just a model, but some analysts suspected that the Soviets might be sufficiently proud of the spacecraft to bring a real one on the tour. These suspicions were confirmed when CIA intelligence agents managed to gain unrestricted access to the spacecraft one night after the exhibit closed. They realised it wasn’t a model. It was a real production article. The agents gleaned what they could in 24 hours but desperately wanted a better look. They wanted to get inside the Lunik. This was easier said than done. The Lunik was heavily guarded, usually with a constant garrison so examining it before or after the exhibit closed was ruled out. But the Lunik did move around, which meant that it could be "borrowed" during the transport chain if there was a weak link. And there was. The spacecraft, as well as every other piece of the exhibit, was transported in a crate by a truck to a rail yard where it was loaded onto a train and moved to the next city. At the rail yard, a guard took note of each incoming crate. What this guard didn't have was a list of cargo and and expected delivery time for each crate. The CIA hatched a plan to steal the Lunik for a night and get it to the train station by morning for its journey to the next city. Finally the night came when the team of CIA agents put their plan into action. They arranged for the Lunik to be the last truckload carried out of the exhibit hall. It did, and trailing it were the CIA agents in plainclothes, disguised as locals looking out for an expected Soviet escort. But more Soviet guards never materialised. With the coast clear, the CIA stopped the truck at the last turn off before the train station, escorted the driver to a hotel, covered the truck with a tarp, then drove it to a nearby salvage yard that was selected for the night because of its surrounding ten-foot tall walls.

Lunik schematic A drawing of Lunik's internal arrangement from a CIA report in 1961. CIA