Helicopters and the greatest man-made disaster in history
Thank you bellfest & CARRAZONI.
The following as an excerpt from the ‘Guardian’ article by Adam Higginbotham:
“(Sergei) Volodin began flying helicopters from the Soviet Air Force base in Kiev in 1976. It was a quiet posting: he spent the years flying bureaucrats and generals around the country in an Mi-8 helicopter specially equipped with lounge chairs, toilet and a bar. Once in a while, he'd pass the Chernobyl plant and, just out of curiosity, turn on the dosimeter that measured radiation inside the cockpit; there was never a flicker.
On the night of 25 April 1986, Captain Volodin and his crew had the emergency rescue shift for the Kiev area. Their helicopter was the first on the scene at Chernobyl. As the government assembled an emergency commission to tackle the disaster, Volodin was instructed to fly around Pripyat with an army major on board to take dosimeter readings; they would use these to map the radioactivity around the town. They set off without protective clothing, dressed only in shirtsleeves; it was another clear, cloudless day. But as Volodin flew toward the plume of smoke and steam rising from Reactor No 4, strange-looking, viscous droplets of liquid began beading on the canopy. Below, he could see a village where people were at work in their gardens; when he looked up at the dosimeter, the reading had gone off the scale. He flicked the device through all its settings - 10, 100, 250, up to 500 roentgen per hour: 'Above 500, the equipment - and human beings - aren't supposed to work.' Yet each time the needle ran off the end of the dial. Suddenly the major burst into the cockpit with his own dosimeter, screaming at Volodin, 'You murderer! You've killed us all!'
'We'd taken such a high dose,' the pilot says now, 'he thought we were already dead.' Later, Volodin discovered that the plume he had flown through was emitting 1,500 roentgen an hour. Having established radiation readings for the map, the pilot then flew technicians from the plant around the reactor, to assess the damage; a photographer shot pictures of the destruction through the open window of the helicopter. Afterwards, Volodin was told he and his crew had been so irradiated they could no longer fly. Hospitalised in a Kiev cardiology ward, the doctors told him to drink as much wine and vodka as he liked; they had no idea how to treat him. Volodin stayed until late May, and returned to fly in and out of the disaster site for another five months.
Volodin retired as a pilot in 1991 to take a desk job. 'I have a strange illness,' he says. 'I'm afraid of flying.' Now 58, he has heart problems; his flight engineer is an invalid. In recognition of his work at Chernobyl, he receives a special liquidators' pension of 26 Ukrainian Hryvna a year. He points sadly at the drinks in front of him: 'The tea costs 35.' ”