The Chernobyl nuclear disaster

On April 26 1986, the No 4 reactor at the Chernobyl power station in Ukraine exploded. A book by
Russian journalist Svetlana Alexievich tells the stories of people who remember the terrible catastrophe.

When a routine test at Chernobyl went catastrophically wrong, a chain reaction went out of control
creating a fireball that exploded a reactor. There were 31 immediate fatalities and the radiation exposure
killed hundreds of people in the days after the disaster.

Evacuation of local residents was delayed by the Soviet authorities that refused to admit the gravity of
the incident.

Bags of sand were dropped on to the reactor fire from the open doors of helicopters (analysts now think
this did more harm than good). When the fire finally stopped, men went to the roof to clear the
radioactive waste. These men died after some weeks.

485 villages around the area became empty, and 70 of those had to be completely destroyed.

Here is the story of Lyudmilla Ignatenko, the wife of one of the firemen that worked on the night of the
explosion.

We lived next to the fire station where he worked. One night I heard a noise. I looked out the window.
He saw me. "Close the window and go back to sleep. There's a fire at the reactor. I'll be back soon."

Everything was radiant. The sky was fire and smoke.

At seven in the morning my husband was in the hospital, but I didn’t have permission to see him. The
policemen said: "The ambulances are radioactive, stay away!"

When I saw him he was terrible.

"He needs milk. Lots of milk," my friend said. "They should drink at least three liters every day."
"But he doesn't like milk."
"He'll drink it now."
Many of the doctors and nurses in that hospital died too.

All our clothes had to be destroyed. The only thing I had was my money. I used this money to go to a
hospital in Moscow. It was a special hospital, for radiology, and the doctor told me “All right, listen:
his central nervous system is badly affected, and his skull. And listen: if you start crying, I'll kick you
out. No hugging or kissing. Don't get close him. You have thirty minutes."
So, I see my husband and he looks better now. He wants to hug me, but he doctor says. "Sit, sit, no
hugging in here."

He started to change; every day I saw him change. There were marks on his mouth, on his tongue, his
face. These marks got bigger and bigger. The skin came off in layers - as white film ... the color of his
face ... his body ... blue, red, grey-brown. It was so fast; there wasn't any time to think, there wasn't any
time to cry. Fourteen days. My husband died after 14 days.
When everybody died, they refurbished the hospital.