Chugunov Nikolai Alexandrovich
Aerologist, died on 21.01.1958, poisoned by gas in the parking lot of a sledge-tracked train on Komsomolskaya, on the way to the Soviet
***
‘January 22, 1958
Mirny is sad today. In the night, they brought from Komsomolskaya the body of Nikolay Alexeevich Chugunov, a young aerological engineer. He is the fourth Soviet polar explorer to die in Antarctica.
Nikolay got gas poisoning at Komsomolskaya while cooking a meal for a tractor convoy. They could not save him.
I do not know Chugunov, since he came here onboard Ob, but I am sure we met at Komsomolskaya. We probably even chatted, we might have sat next to each other in the cinema. His companions say that he was a good comrade and a wonderful person.
Probably another aerological engineer will fly to Komsomolskaya instead of Chugunov tomorrow. Life goes on, always moving, and the tractor convoy will continue its journey, but Chugunov will not be there this time. He was a young man, he got married just before the trip to Antarctica.
January 24, 1958
Chugunov’s funeral took place at 9 p.m.
We gathered at the meteorology platform. People wearing padded jackets with hoods drawn over their caps were walking, hunched over, against the wind. They looked as if they were carrying all the Antarctic ice on their shoulders, and the burden of death itself. The casket upholstered with red cloth was placed onto a tractor sled. The guard of honour consisted of Chugunov’s colleagues, meteorologists and aerologists. The snowstorm kept tearing their jackets and hoods to shreds.
Bugayev, Tolstikov and Tryoshnikov spoke. They are courageous people who know the meaning of risk and the things worth that risk. If I were to record their speeches word for word, they would come off as cold. But death is always depressing, it is always heavy, and in our small company it is thrice as heavy. It is especially heavy for those who bear great responsibility.
The casket with Chugunov’s body was carried to a moraine not far from Mirny. He will be laying there until the ice on the Davis Sea becomes solid again. Then the casket will be brought over to one of the islands at the Mirny roadstead. There two of his comrades, who were crushed under the fragments of a barrier, have been already put to rest.
Sporting guns were fired. They were barely heard over the howling of the wind.
The title of Seghers’ novel came to mind, The Dead Stay Young. Afterwards, sitting in Yakunin and Yakovlev’s room, I was thinking about death at great length. I hope that it is far from me now and it stays like that for a while. Or maybe death is close, just two or three days away. And if I have actually made anyone happy for a couple of days or hours, if I lent them a helping hand at the time of need, then may I be rewarded. May my heart feel lighter than today when my last hour comes. The storm is crying over Mirny.’
Juhan Smuul, The Ice Book
Aerologist, died on 21.01.1958, poisoned by gas in the parking lot of a sledge-tracked train on Komsomolskaya, on the way to the Soviet
***
‘January 22, 1958
Mirny is sad today. In the night, they brought from Komsomolskaya the body of Nikolay Alexeevich Chugunov, a young aerological engineer. He is the fourth Soviet polar explorer to die in Antarctica.
Nikolay got gas poisoning at Komsomolskaya while cooking a meal for a tractor convoy. They could not save him.
I do not know Chugunov, since he came here onboard Ob, but I am sure we met at Komsomolskaya. We probably even chatted, we might have sat next to each other in the cinema. His companions say that he was a good comrade and a wonderful person.
Probably another aerological engineer will fly to Komsomolskaya instead of Chugunov tomorrow. Life goes on, always moving, and the tractor convoy will continue its journey, but Chugunov will not be there this time. He was a young man, he got married just before the trip to Antarctica.
January 24, 1958
Chugunov’s funeral took place at 9 p.m.
We gathered at the meteorology platform. People wearing padded jackets with hoods drawn over their caps were walking, hunched over, against the wind. They looked as if they were carrying all the Antarctic ice on their shoulders, and the burden of death itself. The casket upholstered with red cloth was placed onto a tractor sled. The guard of honour consisted of Chugunov’s colleagues, meteorologists and aerologists. The snowstorm kept tearing their jackets and hoods to shreds.
Bugayev, Tolstikov and Tryoshnikov spoke. They are courageous people who know the meaning of risk and the things worth that risk. If I were to record their speeches word for word, they would come off as cold. But death is always depressing, it is always heavy, and in our small company it is thrice as heavy. It is especially heavy for those who bear great responsibility.
The casket with Chugunov’s body was carried to a moraine not far from Mirny. He will be laying there until the ice on the Davis Sea becomes solid again. Then the casket will be brought over to one of the islands at the Mirny roadstead. There two of his comrades, who were crushed under the fragments of a barrier, have been already put to rest.
Sporting guns were fired. They were barely heard over the howling of the wind.
The title of Seghers’ novel came to mind, The Dead Stay Young. Afterwards, sitting in Yakunin and Yakovlev’s room, I was thinking about death at great length. I hope that it is far from me now and it stays like that for a while. Or maybe death is close, just two or three days away. And if I have actually made anyone happy for a couple of days or hours, if I lent them a helping hand at the time of need, then may I be rewarded. May my heart feel lighter than today when my last hour comes. The storm is crying over Mirny.’
Juhan Smuul, The Ice Book
