CDJMM – Volume 4 -Chapter 49 Filming in the Interstellar Era (49)

【Menshak stopped in front of another gravestone:

Aleksandra Menshakovich Petrov (1925–1950): A Communist Party member. From Moscow to Berlin, he never retreated, always moving forward.

“He was called Menshakovich…” a young man exclaimed, “Was he your son?”

Old Menshak nodded and smiled proudly. “He was my pride. He fought all the way from Moscow to Berlin, and it was he who planted our red flag on the Reichstag.”

He looked up, meeting countless heavy gazes, but then burst out laughing—the mischievous laugh of a child who just succeeded in playing a trick. “No need to feel sad for Shania, that rascal didn’t die in battle. He died of illness.”

“Shania was a troublemaker since he was little,” Menshak shook his head helplessly, like an ordinary old man complaining to his neighbors about his unruly child. “He came back from the battlefield with all his limbs intact. I even praised him for his luck. Who knew that in the winter of 1950, he’d die of a fever in his sickbed.”

“How could he die so easily…” The old man curled his index finger and tapped the gravestone, muttering under his breath, “You really never let people worry.”

A few drops of water dripped onto the ground, evaporating almost instantly.

……

………

Old Menshak stopped walking, staring intently at the name on the gravestone. The young people noticed his fingers trembling as he touched the stone.

Carved on the tombstone was a simple line:

Ivan Ivanovich Petrov (1960–1986): A brave Communist Party member and firefighter. Died in Chernobyl.

The young people fell silent at the mention of that place.

Old Menshak gently wiped the tears from the corner of his eyes, then suddenly showed an incomparably proud smile. “This is my grandson. He was a loyal and courageous young man.”

“You all know about the Chernobyl accident, don’t you?” He wasn’t expecting an answer—no one didn’t know about Chernobyl. He continued, “When the reactor exploded, Ivan was among the first 108 firefighters to rush in.”

Images flashed one after another.

April 26, 1986, 1:23 a.m.—a thunderous explosion erupted from the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant. Seconds later, a massive mushroom cloud rose into the air.

“The radiation released by that explosion was over four hundred times that of the Hiroshima atomic bomb. Reactor No. 4 was a sea of fire. At 1:26:03, Ivan and the others received the alarm. Two minutes later, they arrived on site—and without any radiation protection, they began fighting the fire.”

Young firefighters leapt from the trucks with high-pressure hoses and charged toward the reactor. Their exposed skin blackened rapidly under the intense radiation, sloughing off, blistering, rotting. Firefighters collapsed one after another in the inferno, yet none of them stopped moving forward.

Menshak’s voice played over the scenes:

“Eighteen hours later, a special investigation team arrived. Normally, one hour of exposure to 500 roentgen of radiation is fatal. But at Chernobyl, the radiation above the plant measured twenty thousand roentgen. Inside the exposed reactor: thirty thousand.”

Unlike the calm he maintained while describing his son’s grave earlier, Old Menshak could no longer hold back. His voice choked violently, eyes forced wide open to keep the tears from falling.

“Because of the severe radiation…” he whispered, “we never saw Ivan’s body. They said it had already rotted… like… like a lump of rotten… flesh.”

The young people had been crying ever since they entered the cemetery, and now they sobbed:

“I’m so sorry…”

“He was a hero…”

“I won’t forget him…”

Old Menshak, however, became calm.

Though his expression was less “calm” than… numb.

He had witnessed far, far too much death in his lifetime.

“Ivan was a Communist Party member. This was what he was meant to do,” he said. “Many people died.”

“Thirty-four hours after the explosion, the government evacuated all 53,000 residents of Chernobyl. Later, they evacuated everyone within 30 kilometers of the plant. But… it was still too late. The radiation killed many, crippled many more. Their children—most were born deformed…”

Images flashed: grotesque, twisted children, their faces contorted in pain—horrifying enough to chill the blood.

】

Xie Xun nearly cried out.

These were visuals that belonged only in horror films.

He knew very little about nuclear energy—such an outdated power source—yet he never imagined the ancient Earth would actually use something so terrifying!

How would things unfold next? How would the Soviet Union reduce the devastating effects of the radiation?

【“To monitor radiation levels, the government dispatched helicopters over 500 times to collect air samples above the reactor. Afterwards, the helicopters flew back and forth for many days, dropping 5,000 tons of boron carbide and sand into the exposed reactor to absorb the neutrons produced by the chain reaction. Only then was the nuclear fission reaction finally halted, reducing radiation around the plant by a hundredfold.”

But before the young people could feel relieved, Old Menshak continued:

“The helicopters performing the air-drops had no radiation protection. Over six hundred pilots suffered severe exposure. Many died. Those who survived suffered radiation sickness… Back then, they boarded the helicopters with smiles.”】

One old photo after another showed pilots laughing as they downed vodka, laughing as they bid farewell to others, laughing as they climbed into their helicopters—calmly going to their deaths.

“We might not see tomorrow,” a pilot said to his friends with a smile.

And so, the relieved smiles of the young people living in peaceful times froze at the corners of their mouths. In their eyes appeared a helpless confusion, panic, and a deep, profound sorrow.

Menshak’s memories continued: “Because earlier, in order to extinguish the fire, Ivan and the others had injected twenty thousand tons of water above the reactor. But the temperature below the reactor was too high—the bottom had already turned into a mass of molten lava. A violent steam explosion could occur at any moment. To prevent this disaster, three engineers carried out a suicide mission. They dove into the water in the basement and opened the drainage valves, letting the water out… And beneath their bodies lay the nuclear reactor. Luckily, they survived.”

…

“To prevent the molten lava below the reactor from sinking further and contaminating the groundwater, miners dug tunnels from the side of the reactor, injecting liquid nitrogen inside to lower the temperature of the lava, making it easier to later solidify and seal… Those miners were exposed to radiation for long periods; many had their lifespans cut in half, many fell ill with incurable radiation sickness, and some… gave birth to deformed children.”

…

“Later, the army arrived. They were going to build the sarcophagus to isolate the radioactive source. Before that, they had to clear the reactor…”

The screen cut again. A dignified-looking middle-aged military officer stood at the front of the formation. In front of him appeared the subtitles: Commander of Soviet Engineering Troops, General Talakonov.

He slowly swept his gaze across the endless ranks of soldiers. On his face was a fearless, resolute expression. He raised his arm and shouted loudly: “Comrades, stand at ease! Everyone knows their task. The political commissar and I just went up to the rooftop ourselves, and there’s nothing remarkable about it! Everything is ready. Each person gets up there, shovels twice, and immediately comes back down—remember your protection procedures! Ten people per group, no more than 90 seconds! I’ll go up first, then the commissar, the Communist Party members and the Komsomol members. The other comrades will follow behind—pay attention to safety. Your holidays and the Black Sea sanatorium are already arranged for you. For the Soviet Motherland!”

…

Five months later, the reactor was completely cleaned. The red flag fluttered atop the nuclear power plant.

“In the nearly two years of rescue operations, a total of 600,000 Soviet citizens were mobilized, spanning thousands of professions and posts… My own descendants also answered the call and did some small tasks… Fortunately, their radiation exposure was relatively light; they survived.”

…

Elder Menshak continued walking. Each silent gravestone was like a marker, pointing toward memories fading like smoke.

“This is… Andrei. He was my brother-in-arms.”

His birth and death years were 1910–1991.

The young people relaxed a little. Eighty-one years old could at least be considered a long life—at least he had not died young.

“I’m sorry… did he die of illness?”

Elder Menshak shook his head and replied indifferently, “He committed suicide. On the very day Gorbachev announced the dissolution, he ended his life with a hunting rifle.”

“We are remnants of an old era. The new era has no ship that can carry us.”

Menshak looked up at the sky, raising a hand to block the blinding sunlight. Squinting, he murmured, “Why am I still alive?”

Xie Xun widened his eyes, feeling a huge absurdity well up inside.

Indeed, he had done his homework beforehand and understood that the Soviet Union had not existed for long before it dissolved. But at this moment—after hearing these past events where brilliance and tragedy coexisted, after realizing how steadfast, brave, selfless, and pure the people of this nation were—its sudden collapse felt even more unbearable.

This country was so powerful; its people were so courageous and fearless. How could it dissolve so easily? What exactly happened?

Xie Xun did not remain puzzled for long. Soon, Elder Menshak’s recollections gave him the answer.

The fall of the Soviet Union resulted from internal and external forces acting together.

Externally, Western nations pushed peaceful evolution. Internally, failed economic and political reforms took their toll.

The Soviet Union possessed the strongest steel army in the world, yet its people were starving.

Then, under the assault of the West’s sugar-coated bullets, the purity and resolve of the Party members were shaken. Within the Party… many voices of doubt suddenly appeared.

Meanwhile, corruption spread among the Party ranks. Huge numbers of parasites embezzled state assets, bribery became rampant, productivity plummeted, and a large privileged class emerged.

The equal new world imagined by the proletariat was drifting farther and farther away.

These privileged elites began questioning the system, the policies, the Party’s legitimacy to rule, and even the necessity of the Soviet Union’s existence.

Later, Gorbachev came to power to reform. He implemented political “pluralism” and a multi-party system, giving up the Party’s leading position.

“At that time, Gorbachev held a nationwide referendum. Eighty percent of Soviet citizens opposed the dissolution of the Soviet Union. But in the end, the Soviet Union dissolved anyway.”

Elder Menshak waved his cane, suddenly falling into a hoarse, hysterical rage: “Yeltsin—that traitor!! He betrayed the Party! Betrayed the faith! It was he who forcibly disbanded the Soviet Union! And Gorbachev— that coward! That weakling! That traitor! Why didn’t he die?! How can he still live and keep playing some pathetic movie roles, announcing the dissolution of the Soviet Union again and again in films?!”

The screen flashed again. To prevent dissolution, some military officers launched a coup, attempting to save the Soviet Union.

On August 23, 1991, Yeltsin demanded during the Congress of People’s Deputies that the coup-participating Party members cease all activities. He arrested the leaders involved and charged them with treason.

Soviet Marshal Akhromeyev committed suicide before the dissolution, leaving a final note: “When the great nation for which we have given our lives is approaching its end, when everything that gave my life meaning is being destroyed, I cannot continue living. I have the freedom to end my own life. I will fight until my last breath.”

On December 26, 1991, the Soviet Union dissolved. Russia was born.

Elder Menshak closed his eyes, tears streaming down.

“We devoted our youth and blood to our country, but after our country no longer existed, we sank into poverty…”

Music rose: “Do you know this fog-shrouded land like a graveyard—one misstep and you sleep forever in a foreign place?”

“This is Norman. He loved smoking the most, but after the Soviet Union collapsed, he couldn’t afford cigarettes, so he picked up cigarette butts from the street to smoke…”

“…Cherish life, hold faith and longing in your heart, guard this love, guard through bitter waiting.”

“This is Emma. To exchange for food for her family, she sold all her military medals…”

“Unswerving, uncomplaining of fate’s cruelty—true hearts can be seen, unafraid of rivers and mountains aging.”

“This is Andrei. He lost both legs on the battlefield, but Yeltsin refused to grant him subsidies. His children saw him as a burden. In despair, he chose to commit suicide.”

“Dawn’s light will illuminate your loyalty; at dawn, the Motherland’s chapter is written.”

“This is Oginets. He was once an excellent pilot… He developed radiation sickness. He had no money. His children still needed to eat. He could only steal potatoes…”

“Here the dawn is quiet… layers of fog wrapped like bandages, the lake reflecting the blood-colored glow.”

“Every year, tens of thousands of Party members and soldiers commit suicide…”

Menshak passed the final gravestone and pointed at the empty ground beside it.

“This is my grave.”

“My name is Menshak. I am a Communist Party member and a political commissar. I lived in the Soviet Union and died in Russia.”

“Here the dawn is quiet… red morning light flows from the apple trees, the fierce sun stings like a wasp’s venom.”