"Let's go, as we were." How Pyotr Fomin restored the communication system in the contaminated zone after the Chernobyl disaster
In 1986, Pyotr Fomin, an employee of the communications department of the Vitebsk Regional Executive Committee's Internal Affairs Directorate, celebrated his 32nd birthday on April 25th. The very next day, hundreds of kilometers away from Vitebsk, the most terrible man-made disaster of the 20th century occurred: the accident at the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant. At that time, the engineer in police uniform could not have imagined that just two weeks after the explosion at the NPP, he would be sent to the Khoiniki district to serve in the exclusion zone. The militia veteran shared what he mentally prepared for 38 years ago when he was sent on a month-long dangerous assignment, what his colleagues asked him about afterwards, and what personal inventions the engineer is implementing in his daily life.
Pyotr Fomin theoretically knew what radiation was, how it affects humans, and what consequences it could cause, from his service in the army, where he was in chemical reconnaissance. When the command was recruiting volunteers, he was the only one out of five people from his department who could go on an assignment to the Khoiniki district. "Before leaving, my wife and I sat down, talked, and almost said goodbye, as it was unclear what awaited us. We had a daughter, but still, my wife, who worked with me at the Internal Affairs Directorate, understood that there was no other way. I wasn't scared, but I felt some anxiety because we were going into the unknown; no one could tell us what it was like there – in the zone with radioactive contamination; there was nothing to compare it to," Pyotr Fomin said.
We arrived at the location on May 11th. We traveled in three buses – 102 people in a consolidated detachment. Everyone was in their service uniform, some didn't even bring a toothbrush. Later, when the first consolidated detachment from the Vitebsk region returned, colleagues asked what to pack in their suitcases, but for the pioneers, the trial was not easy. "There was a simple lack of a regular tracksuit to change into. We were issued protective clothing, some pajamas, and housed in an empty school building in Strelichevo. The first few days were spent setting up basic living conditions – where to sleep, wash, and eat. Then we cut down trees to set up checkpoints at the border of the zone, where entry was prohibited," shared the retired lieutenant colonel.
Pyotr Fomin theoretically knew what radiation was, how it affects humans, and what consequences it could cause, from his service in the army, where he was in chemical reconnaissance. When the command was recruiting volunteers, he was the only one out of five people from his department who could go on an assignment to the Khoiniki district. "Before leaving, my wife and I sat down, talked, and almost said goodbye, as it was unclear what awaited us. We had a daughter, but still, my wife, who worked with me at the Internal Affairs Directorate, understood that there was no other way. I wasn't scared, but I felt some anxiety because we were going into the unknown; no one could tell us what it was like there – in the zone with radioactive contamination; there was nothing to compare it to," Pyotr Fomin said.
We arrived at the location on May 11th. We traveled in three buses – 102 people in a consolidated detachment. Everyone was in their service uniform, some didn't even bring a toothbrush. Later, when the first consolidated detachment from the Vitebsk region returned, colleagues asked what to pack in their suitcases, but for the pioneers, the trial was not easy. "There was a simple lack of a regular tracksuit to change into. We were issued protective clothing, some pajamas, and housed in an empty school building in Strelichevo. The first few days were spent setting up basic living conditions – where to sleep, wash, and eat. Then we cut down trees to set up checkpoints at the border of the zone, where entry was prohibited," shared the retired lieutenant colonel.
When the consolidated detachment from the Vitebsk region arrived at the duty station (along with similar detachments from other regions), servicemen were already there, and according to Pyotr Fomin, everything was clearly organized. "I remember how they grew onions. There was soil in wooden boxes, which they brought from an uncontaminated zone and planted onion bulbs in. The boxes were covered with cellophane bags and placed on windowsills. The green shoots were used for food. One episode – it might seem like a trifle, but it shows how well our military adapted to such conditions," said the Vitebsk resident.
As part of the duty detachments, Pyotr Fomin guarded the roads on which cars traveled in both directions. On the highway, the police tried to find the least radioactive spot. Usually, it was the middle of the roadway, as wind and precipitation carried all the radioactive dust to the shoulders.
They also patrolled villages, making rounds of all houses, checking if anyone had been left behind. "The settlements there were completely different, much larger than ours, it's the south. One village could have 300 houses, while ours, in the Vitebsk region, typical villages were small – 20-30 houses. And by the time you walked from one end to the other, a considerable amount of time had passed. There was a lot of stuff in the dwellings; people left with a small supply of clothes and documents at best. While we were working there, we didn't have any weapons; after a couple of days, we thought of taking sticks with us. Many dogs were untied from chains; their owners told them they were leaving for just a couple of days, so they didn't take their four-legged guards with them. There were also dogs that, out of habit, rushed at strangers. It was a pity for them. We used sticks to move bowls of food and buckets of water closer to the dogs so they wouldn't die of dehydration and hunger, and when they got a little used to us, we let them off the leash so they could find food themselves," shared Pyotr Fomin his memories.
As part of the duty detachments, Pyotr Fomin guarded the roads on which cars traveled in both directions. On the highway, the police tried to find the least radioactive spot. Usually, it was the middle of the roadway, as wind and precipitation carried all the radioactive dust to the shoulders.
They also patrolled villages, making rounds of all houses, checking if anyone had been left behind. "The settlements there were completely different, much larger than ours, it's the south. One village could have 300 houses, while ours, in the Vitebsk region, typical villages were small – 20-30 houses. And by the time you walked from one end to the other, a considerable amount of time had passed. There was a lot of stuff in the dwellings; people left with a small supply of clothes and documents at best. While we were working there, we didn't have any weapons; after a couple of days, we thought of taking sticks with us. Many dogs were untied from chains; their owners told them they were leaving for just a couple of days, so they didn't take their four-legged guards with them. There were also dogs that, out of habit, rushed at strangers. It was a pity for them. We used sticks to move bowls of food and buckets of water closer to the dogs so they wouldn't die of dehydration and hunger, and when they got a little used to us, we let them off the leash so they could find food themselves," shared Pyotr Fomin his memories.
Fortunately, the unarmed militiamen did not have to deal with looters who sought to carry away everything of even slight value from houses, down to bed linen. "There was one instance when we were patrolling a village. A girl asked to be let into a house to collect some personal belongings. She was not allowed in, as it was not permitted. We told her that if there were indeed valuable items left in the house, such as children's documents, she should contact the headquarters, write an application, and then she could go with the chief of staff to retrieve important items," said Petr Fomin.
Then, the police officers were tasked with establishing communication in the de-energized settlements. The Vitebsk resident, along with his colleagues, carried portable radio stations, and the batteries for them were recharged where they lived and electricity was not disconnected. The engineer needed to figure out how to maintain the signal of these radio stations at a distance of 15-20 km from the headquarters. He found a solution: stationary antennas were installed on the power line poles, and they helped to catch the desired wave and report the situation in the settlement to the central command post. This communication system was later used by those who arrived on a business trip to Chernobyl after them.
"There was a lot of everything. In field conditions, on the fly, we had to repair all sorts of radio equipment, and no one cared whose service it belonged to – rescuers, military, or police, everyone worked closely, side by side, helping each other as best they could," emphasized the Vitebsk resident.
The radiation dose that the police officers received at that time was not particularly measured. Portable dosimeters gave different readings, and some things were estimated visually. "I think that we, who were on that business trip in the first month, received less radiation than those who arrived later. At first, we weren't even given respirators. During our "shift," there was no precipitation, and we even drank water from closed wells. It was impossible to measure the radiation level in the water with the portable dosimeters we had; special devices were needed for this, but theoretically, we knew that the water was fit for consumption before the first rains. The guys who arrived after us suffered more, as I believe, because at that time, precipitation occurred, and the wind direction changed," explained Pyotr Fomin.
"There was a lot of everything. In field conditions, on the fly, we had to repair all sorts of radio equipment, and no one cared whose service it belonged to – rescuers, military, or police, everyone worked closely, side by side, helping each other as best they could," emphasized the Vitebsk resident.
The radiation dose that the police officers received at that time was not particularly measured. Portable dosimeters gave different readings, and some things were estimated visually. "I think that we, who were on that business trip in the first month, received less radiation than those who arrived later. At first, we weren't even given respirators. During our "shift," there was no precipitation, and we even drank water from closed wells. It was impossible to measure the radiation level in the water with the portable dosimeters we had; special devices were needed for this, but theoretically, we knew that the water was fit for consumption before the first rains. The guys who arrived after us suffered more, as I believe, because at that time, precipitation occurred, and the wind direction changed," explained Pyotr Fomin.
Since then, he has no personal photographs left, except for a group photo taken on the first day of service when the entire squad lined up and were captured on camera. The original of this picture is kept in the Department of Internal Affairs museum in the exhibition dedicated to the police officers of Vitebsk region who were in the exclusion zone.
"We were immediately told that photography was forbidden there. And we didn't really have a desire to keep such memories. I won't say it was difficult, but it wasn't easy service either. The hardest part was being separated from loved ones, as we couldn't call home from there to reassure our relatives that we were alive and well. By the way, no one among us got sick then; the doctor with us was surprised at how we managed to stay so healthy. And when we returned to Vitebsk, we were gathered in the assembly hall, and they started asking questions, especially those who were going to travel with the second consolidated detachment. I told them - at least take a ball with you, between shifts, besides sleep, you'll want to do something, so you can play football to avoid going crazy from the oppressive atmosphere," recalls Pyotr Fomin.
"We were immediately told that photography was forbidden there. And we didn't really have a desire to keep such memories. I won't say it was difficult, but it wasn't easy service either. The hardest part was being separated from loved ones, as we couldn't call home from there to reassure our relatives that we were alive and well. By the way, no one among us got sick then; the doctor with us was surprised at how we managed to stay so healthy. And when we returned to Vitebsk, we were gathered in the assembly hall, and they started asking questions, especially those who were going to travel with the second consolidated detachment. I told them - at least take a ball with you, between shifts, besides sleep, you'll want to do something, so you can play football to avoid going crazy from the oppressive atmosphere," recalls Pyotr Fomin.
The Vitebsk resident often met with the colleagues with whom he went through that difficult assignment later - he traveled around the districts for work, met with "Chernobyl veterans." They always inquired about each other's health and exchanged news.
Pyotr Fomin has been working with "hardware" all his life. His aptitude for engineering manifested itself in school; at 16, he completed radio and television repair courses and has not parted with a technical specialty since then. He began working in the police in 1974 in western Kazakhstan, where he met his future wife, a native of Vitebsk, with whom he later moved to her hometown. After retiring, Pyotr Fomin remained in the police for a long time - he was the deputy head of the radio workshop, where all sorts of special equipment were repaired, and he finally left the service only last year.
Pyotr Fomin has been working with "hardware" all his life. His aptitude for engineering manifested itself in school; at 16, he completed radio and television repair courses and has not parted with a technical specialty since then. He began working in the police in 1974 in western Kazakhstan, where he met his future wife, a native of Vitebsk, with whom he later moved to her hometown. After retiring, Pyotr Fomin remained in the police for a long time - he was the deputy head of the radio workshop, where all sorts of special equipment were repaired, and he finally left the service only last year.
In Vitebsk, he witnessed the construction of the Internal Affairs Directorate building, which was erected on the site of a former military pillbox. In the new "police house," Pyotr Fomin was setting up the communication system, gradually transitioning from telephony to modern devices. While still a correspondence student at the Vitebsk Technological Institute (now Vitebsk State Technological University), as his diploma project, which he defended with an excellent grade, he developed a machine for manufacturing complex cutting tools for shoe trimming. He had his own inventions later on as well. At his dacha, the inquisitive engineer, who celebrated his 70th birthday today, designed a system of remotely controlled doors for greenhouses – operated via a smartphone application. He is still interested in tinkering with mechanisms, wires, learning new things, and making discoveries, realizing how much can be created with skillful hands, imagination, and solid knowledge of mechanics.