Voices from Chernobyl: The Oral History of a Nuclear Disaster

by Svetlana Alexievich

So it was like this. The smells—I couldn’t understand where this smell was coming from in the village. Six kilometers from the reactor. The village of Masaly. It was like roentgen central. It smelled of iodine. Some kind of sourness. You had to shoot them point blank. This bitch is on the floor with her pups, she jumps right at me. I shoot her quick. The puppies lick their paws, fawning, playing around. I had to shoot them point blank. One dog—he was a little black poodle. I still feel sorry for him. We loaded a whole dump truck with them, even filled the top. We drive them over to our “cemetery.” To be honest it was just a deep hole in the ground, even though you’re supposed to dig it in such a way that you can’t reach any ground water, and you’re supposed to insulate it with cellophane. You’re supposed to find an elevated area. But of course those instructions were violated everywhere. There wasn’t any cellophane, and we didn’t spend a lot of time looking for the right spot. If they weren’t dead, if they were just wounded, they’d start howling, crying. We’re dumping them from the dump truck into the hole, and this one little poodle is trying to climb back out. No one has any bullets left. There’s nothing to finish him with. Not a single bullet. We pushed him back into the hole and just buried him like that. I still feel sorry for him.