Khmara Ivan
21.01.1956
Ivan Fyodorovich Khmara was born in Poltava region, Veshnyaki village. He was part of the Dixon construction battalion and later joined the first Antarctic expedition as a volunteer.
In 1956, the best USSR specialists, who were also dreamers, gathered together on board the diesel-powered motorships Ob and Lena. They were going to spend a whole year in Antarctica, building the first Soviet polar station. The team was in for a lengthy sea voyage of about three months.
20-year-old Ivan Khmara took part in all cabin meetups and he would play the Russian accordion tirelessly. He instantly became a favourite with the explorers: they loved him for his cheerful nature and jovial disposition.
The long-awaited day finally arrived – on January 4, Antarctic shores came into view. It took a long time to locate a landing place: there was almost no rock exposure on the 300 km shoreline.
At last, they found a small rocky strip on Mabus Point. The short polar summer was at its peak and one could see the settlement grow right before their eyes.
January 21 was an ordinary work day. Hydrologists located a hazardous area on the ice not far from the construction site and marked it with red flags. However, tractor operator Kudryashov mistakenly thought that he had been ordered to drive up to the Ob directly via the danger zone. The tractor started moving and toppled on its left side at once. Kudryashov was terrified and leaped out of the cab onto the ice.
The ship’s crew threw him a rope, intending to drag the vehicle to thebow using a winch. The rope was tied to the sled’s hook, and when the winch got rolling, Ivan Khmara came running up to the tractor.
He realised that every piece of equipment was worth its weight in gold and wanted to aid the process with the vehicle’s tracks. Ivan opened the hood, turned the starter motor, launched the main engine and jumped into the cab. The tracks began to move, crushed the cracked ice in an instant and at that exact moment, in full view of everyone, the rope parted, and the tractor disappeared under water.
The rescue brigade determined the depths inaccessible to divers and enclosed the ice-hole with a rope barrier.
The moment of Ivan Khmara’s tragic death was recorded by Alexander Kochetkov, cameraman of the first complex Antarctic expedition. He was shooting the scene of the Ob’s unloading and at that exact point was close at hand. That footage was shown in newsreels nationwide and it became part of the first Antarctic documentary Lights of Mirny (Ogni Mirnogo).
The first mourning rally in the history of Mirny took place on the coastal rocky cape the following day. Nearly every member of the Ob’s crew was present, and a gun salute was fired. Many cried and did not hide their tears, including the leader of the expedition, Mikhail Somov. In his book, On the Domes of the Earth (Na Kupolakh Zyemli), he would later write: ‘It was my fault, I hadn’t thought of taking the doors off the tractor’s cab, he would have had the time to get off.’
That same day, on Somov’s order, the doors of all the tractors were removed. It saved the lives of many polar explorers as a result.
One of the issues of the Combat Leaflet (Boyevoy Listok) was dedicated to occupational health and safety compliance. The journal regularly came out on the Ob. Moreover, the crew made posters with cautionary messages: ‘Look sharp on shore ice!’, ‘Don’t come close to the edge, you’re not a penguin!’, ‘Take care of the ice track!’, ‘Remember: ice in the evening is weaker than ice in the morning!’
Not long before his death, Ivan Khmara received a telegram from home. It contained the news of his young wife Valentina: she had given birth to a son.
A small island in the Haswell archipelago is named after Khmara, as well as the bay in the vicinity of Molodyozhnaya station. There is a monument to Ivan in his Ukrainian home village near the school he attended. His younger brother Nikolai posed for that bust. The main street of the village also bears the name of Khmara.
In 1956, the best USSR specialists, who were also dreamers, gathered together on board the diesel-powered motorships Ob and Lena. They were going to spend a whole year in Antarctica, building the first Soviet polar station. The team was in for a lengthy sea voyage of about three months.
20-year-old Ivan Khmara took part in all cabin meetups and he would play the Russian accordion tirelessly. He instantly became a favourite with the explorers: they loved him for his cheerful nature and jovial disposition.
The long-awaited day finally arrived – on January 4, Antarctic shores came into view. It took a long time to locate a landing place: there was almost no rock exposure on the 300 km shoreline.
At last, they found a small rocky strip on Mabus Point. The short polar summer was at its peak and one could see the settlement grow right before their eyes.
January 21 was an ordinary work day. Hydrologists located a hazardous area on the ice not far from the construction site and marked it with red flags. However, tractor operator Kudryashov mistakenly thought that he had been ordered to drive up to the Ob directly via the danger zone. The tractor started moving and toppled on its left side at once. Kudryashov was terrified and leaped out of the cab onto the ice.
The ship’s crew threw him a rope, intending to drag the vehicle to thebow using a winch. The rope was tied to the sled’s hook, and when the winch got rolling, Ivan Khmara came running up to the tractor.
He realised that every piece of equipment was worth its weight in gold and wanted to aid the process with the vehicle’s tracks. Ivan opened the hood, turned the starter motor, launched the main engine and jumped into the cab. The tracks began to move, crushed the cracked ice in an instant and at that exact moment, in full view of everyone, the rope parted, and the tractor disappeared under water.
The rescue brigade determined the depths inaccessible to divers and enclosed the ice-hole with a rope barrier.
The moment of Ivan Khmara’s tragic death was recorded by Alexander Kochetkov, cameraman of the first complex Antarctic expedition. He was shooting the scene of the Ob’s unloading and at that exact point was close at hand. That footage was shown in newsreels nationwide and it became part of the first Antarctic documentary Lights of Mirny (Ogni Mirnogo).
The first mourning rally in the history of Mirny took place on the coastal rocky cape the following day. Nearly every member of the Ob’s crew was present, and a gun salute was fired. Many cried and did not hide their tears, including the leader of the expedition, Mikhail Somov. In his book, On the Domes of the Earth (Na Kupolakh Zyemli), he would later write: ‘It was my fault, I hadn’t thought of taking the doors off the tractor’s cab, he would have had the time to get off.’
That same day, on Somov’s order, the doors of all the tractors were removed. It saved the lives of many polar explorers as a result.
One of the issues of the Combat Leaflet (Boyevoy Listok) was dedicated to occupational health and safety compliance. The journal regularly came out on the Ob. Moreover, the crew made posters with cautionary messages: ‘Look sharp on shore ice!’, ‘Don’t come close to the edge, you’re not a penguin!’, ‘Take care of the ice track!’, ‘Remember: ice in the evening is weaker than ice in the morning!’
Not long before his death, Ivan Khmara received a telegram from home. It contained the news of his young wife Valentina: she had given birth to a son.
A small island in the Haswell archipelago is named after Khmara, as well as the bay in the vicinity of Molodyozhnaya station. There is a monument to Ivan in his Ukrainian home village near the school he attended. His younger brother Nikolai posed for that bust. The main street of the village also bears the name of Khmara.
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