Nobody could imagine of course the scope of the disaster, because it was unimaginable. I was there when the first sarcophagus was installed on February, 23rd – by that time it was still releasing radiation. As you drove closer to the plant you could feel the smell of iodine. But the most dangerous thing was that orange cloud. When it was snowing heavily, we could see it. Otherwise we couldn’t, of course, we just felt the smell during those releases. We had the means of protection. The best one was “the petal”, of course. But we couldn't stand it longer than 20 minutes in winter. Then it got wet and you couldn't breathe anymore had to change it. They gave us a lot of those “petals”, whole boxes. So you grab a whole pile of them and then replace them one after another so that you could breathe. Gas masks couldn’t help us, nor any other other stuff. Actually, if you stuck to the safety regulations carefully, it meant no smoking, no eating, always wearing the “petal”… But there were guys who smoked. They had problems later - one of them had an ulcer…

They brought us there, about 12 or 15 men. We had already put on the chemical protection suits and gas masks – we looked great, real tough guys. They woke us up in the middle of the night. Someone said “ I’m the squad leader.. I need two more volunteers”. We are going to pump out the water from under the reactor. Well, OK, no objections. Anyway I couldn't refuse. And the volunteers were the two guys from my tent. We come to the station in an APC. We get out, everybody jumps out of the APC wearing those gas masks and chemical protection clothes. And the people around are wearing nothing of the kind – just gauze masks, like flu masks. Where is the radiation; what does that radiation mean? Probably, there was no radiation at all. They led us to something like a hall and they seated us. Those generals were running around there, and they divided us into groups of 4-5 men, then they sent us under the reactor. We went through a kind of a basement, long corridors with lots of pipes there, it was very dark, they gave us torches and lead us there… […] Something like 10 minutes later he takes his dosemeter and says: “That's enough for them. Now to the shower”. And they added up as much as 4 Roentgen on my dosemetric card…

Well, they remembered me and drafted me. I went there without any documents even, because they took me there just for one day, allegedly. They said they needed an expert in sealing and hermetics. When I arrived there, there was a meeting of specialists. And they said that, 'well, guys, you can do underwater sealing, and we'll have to do it under rain. Well, we need you here to do it under the rain – it's almost autumn. This job has to be done' How could I refuse? And it's not like doing it with your own hands - we had to do it remotely, do you understand? […] There were lots of factors obstructing the process.

They were carrying out a certain cycle of reactor shutdown, trying out a certain procedure. And it didn't work out. There are a lot of “foolproof” mechanisms there, you understand? So they call Moscow, and Moscow says – switch them off, those safety mechanisms, and act according to your plan. So they switched them off, the foolproof tricks, one by one, until the reactor went haywire and that's that. That's what I call 'human factor' – not so much of the station personnel, but of Moscow idiots.

1986. Easter-tide. My doorbell rings. By the way, there was a terrible shower that day - the very first one that spring – a real downpour, very heavy. I open the door. There's some intoxicated bastard – thrusts a draft notice to me, says – sign it. I sign it and read: within one hour show up at the Palace of Pioneers, all packed and ready. Well, I'm a disciplined man, I've been to the Army, so, I click my heels together – yes, Sir! Just dropped some stuff into my little rucksack, and – off I went. At night we got on board – and soon disembarked in Savintsy, and the next morning we were part of Fire fighting battalion.