The magazine of the art-form of the photo-essay
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Nov 2014 back issue
by Arthur Bondar
I was born on July 3rd 1983 in the big metallurgical city of Krivoy Rog (Ukraine), in a small military aviation town. My
mother first worked as a nurse in a kindergarten, then as a nurse in a military hospital. My father was a mechanic of
IL-76 military transport airplanes. Our aviation regiment VTAP (a/d 22527), was one of the best regiments of military
transport aircraft in the Soviet Union and was based in Krivoy Rog since the mid-50s. Crews from Krivoy Rog, including
my father’s, operated certain flights during the war in Afghanistan. After Afghanistan there was Ethiopia, after Ethiopia,
Sierra Leone, after Sierra Leone, Angola and after Angola, Yugoslavia. He said that they went through everything; they
had forced landings on 3 engines instead 4, and were fired at during take-off, and all sorts of other nasty stuff. He hides
his "pieces of metal", as he calls them, from the grateful nations of different countries in a small duralumin box in a
closet. He never wears these medals and does not open the box, because for him they are much more than "pieces of
metal."
I remember my first and the last flight on board the IL-76, which took off from this airfield. We circled around the dying
military units and then landed for the very last time. When the engines stopped, there was absolute silence, only dozens
of pairs of eyes filled with tears. I recall the last roar of the engine, the final cry of the soul of this iron bird that was born
and killed by man.
In 2000, the regiment was disbanded and in 2004 was finally relocated. The airfield and military town are now
abandoned. Many of the buildings stand in ruins. Two IL-76 military airplanes in parking lots are waiting for their turn to
be stripped back for their metal.
My father’s soldier identification badge.
My father – Bondar Stanislav Vasilevich. HIs official photograph on military aviation
documents.
My father and mother.
My identification badge from maternity hospital.
My first portrait on the sofa.
Our family portrait in our old flat in the military town.
Group portrait of the 1st class in our school in the military town.
Family portrait in soviet photographic studio.
My Octobrist red star badge with a portrait of a young Lenin.
A group portrait of my father’s 3rd regiment.
21 years later.
We had a lot of competitions where the whole family took part. We were a sporting
family.
24 years later.
A swimming pool in the military town. All people who worked in the military regiment
could come here with their families.
23 years later.
The classroom of tactical education.
21 years later.
Parking area to the airplanes.
When the regiment was disbanded, in 2000, almost all airplanes were broken up for
scrap metal.
A small piece of vane that was the cause of the destruction of a whole engine during a
flight. My father’s crew decided to switch it off and landed with 3 working engines
instead 4.
