VIKTOR PETROV IN GEORGY FYODOROV’S EXPEDITION

Post-war research on the ancient Greek city Tyras, located in the southern part of modern Ukraine, in the territory of Bilhorod-Dnistrovskyi in the Odesa region, is primarily associated with the names of Ukrainian scholars Leonid Dmytrov (excavations in the 1940s) and later, Adele Furmanska (Bilyayeva, 2022, p. 20). From 1953 to 1963, Adele Furmanska conducted excavations at the site and regularly published her findings (Saveliev, 2019, p. 28). Her reports are stored in the Scientific Archive of the Institute of Archaeology of the National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine and are available for scientists.

However, Adele Furmanska’s 1958 report gives no mention of the Tyras excavations in 1954. But this actual year dates the whole folder of photos “Belhorod-Dniester expedition – 1954. Ancient Tyras”(file 146), that was found in the Viktor Petrov fund. From the article by russian archaeologist M. Rabinovich, we can learn that in 1954 and 1958, the complex Prut-Dniester archaeological-ethnographic expedition of the Institute of Archaeology and Ethnography of the USSR Academy of Sciences and the Institute of History of the Moldovan branch of the USSR Academy of Sciences, led by russian archaeologist Georgy Fyodorov, worked at the site. The expedition conducted excavations of medieval layers in Bilhorod-Dnistrovskyi (Rabinovich, 1968, p. 102). The Bilhorod-Dnistrovskyi team was led by Mikhail Rabinovich, who lists other members of the expedition in his article: M.V. Zhitomirska, H.P. Latysheva, V.N. Mylnikova, V.P. Petrov, T.V. Ravdina, I.G. Khynka, as well as students from Chișinău University and the Moscow Pedagogical Institute named after V. Potyomkin. Aside from Viktor Petrov, all the listed people are russians and moldovans. This was Viktor Petrov’s Moscow period (1950-1956), during which he had returned from Germany but stayed in Moscow for a few more years. While working at the Institute of History of Material Culture (now the Institute of Archaeology of the Russian Academy of Sciences), he wrote letters to his wife, Sofia Zerova, in Kyiv and occasionally visited her for one or two summer months.

Vitalii Andreev, in his study on Viktor Petrov, describes the work of the expedition based on G. Fyodorov’s report stored in Moscow. We learn that G. Fyodorov entrusted Viktor Petrov with leading the excavations of an ancient settlement near the village of Lopatne in the Susslen district of the Moldavian SSR. During the excavations, layers from the Chernyakhiv and early Slavic periods were uncovered. The expedition then moved to Bilhorod-Dnistrovskyi, where a Moldovan medieval site was excavated. As Andreev notes, the results of the expedition’s work in 1954 were significant: “investigated a burial ground from the 2nd-1st centuries BC (Lukashivka); settlements and grave field from the first centuries and mid-1st millennium AD (Malaeshte); settlements from the 3rd-10th centuries (Lopatne); an early Rus’ fortification from the 9th-11th centuries (Lukashivka); and the medieval site of Bilhorod-Dnistrovskyi” (Andreev, 2012, pp. 180-181).

The head of the Prut-Dniester expedition, moscow archaeologist Georgy Fyodorov, who also worked extensively in Moldova, was referred to as “the archaeologist among writers” and “the writer among archaeologists.” This somehow parallels Viktor Petrov’s own profile. Moldovan archaeologist Mark Tkachuk wrote with empathy about Fyodorov’s difficult relationships with the authorities during the Brezhnev stagnation, highlighting the shelter his expedition provided to dissidents, shielding them from accusations of idleness (Tkachuk, 1999). In the Russian segment of the internet, Fyodorov’s memoirs are posted, where he recounts the story of how Viktor Petrov joined his expedition. We will quote a lengthy excerpt in Ukrainian translation and leave it to the readers to discern what is a truthful memory and what is an artistic fabrication based on rumors:

“The thing is, in all major expeditions at that time, I mean during the Stalin period and the post-Stalin period, especially until the 20th Congress, although I imagine this situation persisted even after, in any expedition, there was always somehow a plant, a KGB informant; whether a staff member, a non-staff member, or a volunteer informant. So I thought: rather than have an unknown person sent to me, some desperate scoundrel, I might as well choose someone myself. I had a suitable candidate in mind: it was the Kyiv archaeologist, Professor Viktor Platonovich Petrov. I know his story only vaguely, but as far as I can tell, it went like this: Viktor Platonovich was born and raised in Kyiv, received a classical historical and philological education, had an excellent knowledge of Greek and Latin languages, developed a passion for archaeology, and was an experienced and capable archaeologist. In the late 1920s and early 1930s, when the Ukrainian intelligentsia was being arrested on charges of nationalism, he was also imprisoned. However, since in the early 1930s they were still figuring out who and why was imprisoned, he was released after two years. After all, a pure-bred russian didn’t quite fit the narrative with a Ukrainian nationalist. But he was already marked as someone who had served two years for political reasons. Therefore, he was left in German-occupied Ukraine during the war. Officially, he was considered as the acting editor of the newspaper for the Kharkiv mayor, but unofficially, he had two roles: he facilitated communication between the city underground and the partisan movement, and, most importantly, he was preparing an assassination attempt on Hitler: at his headquarters in Russia, which were located in Vinnytsia and Berlin. I must say that he probably carried out both of these functions quite successfully, but the assassination attempt on Hitler was thwarted. The Gestapo executed most of the participants. But Viktor Platonovich escaped and joined the partisan detachment named of Beria, which consisted of NKVD members from Kharkiv. He showed me his identification card from that time. It was printed with ink on a white silk ribbon. At the top, it said: ‘Death to the fascist occupiers!’ followed by his last name, first name, patronymic, and so on. It was made of silk because this ribbon could be sewn into clothing and wouldn’t be detected during searches. After the war, he returned to his work as an archaeologist but continued to be listed with the State Security Committee as well. Moreover, as one of my students told me, she accidentally saw a document indicating that Viktor Platonovich was our general—a KGB general or a major general. I can’t say for sure whether that’s true or not. By the way, I found out about this only recently, many years after his death. In any case, I knew at the time that he was somehow connected to the KGB, but I also knew he was an honest, educated, and experienced archaeologist, so I invited him to the expedition. He gladly agreed. I made him not the head of the team, but the leader of one of the excavations within a team of the expedition. Korzhavin worked in the same team as a laborer. One day, when the team was working in Bilhorod-Dnistrovskyi, Viktor Platonovich said to me, ‘Georgy Borisovich! I need to have a confidential conversation with you.’ I replied, ‘Of course.’ We went to the shore of the Dniester estuary, and he said, ‘You see, our esteemed Emma…’. And Naum Korzhavin was called Emka by everyone. But Viktor Platonovich, out of delicacy, referred to him as Emma. ‘Our esteemed Emma is putting me in a very difficult position,’ he said. ‘What do you mean?’ I asked, surprised. ‘You see,’ Petrov explained, ‘he not only composes, writes, and reads, but he also keeps losing his poems, which are anything but orthodox in content. So please, do take an interest.’ He gave me two papers filled with a very distinctive, round, childlike handwriting—Emka’s for sure. I read it and thought, ‘Oh my God!’ So I said, ‘Viktor Platonovich, dear, don’t be upset, don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything!’ After that, I went to Emka and said, ‘Listen, why are you scattering your anti-Soviet stuff everywhere?’ ‘What do you mean?’ Emka replied. I replied, ‘Well, for example, this’—and showed him the two sheets that Viktor Platonovich had given me. Emka grabbed them and said, ‘These poems have nothing to do with me’—and stuffed them into his pocket. And then he said to me angrily, ‘Why are you bothering me? We’re all friends here.’ I replied, ‘Well, to put it mildly, that’s not quite true. We do have an informant in the expedition.’ ‘Who is it?’ Emka jumped. I said, ‘Viktor Platonovich Petrov.’ ‘Vityka–partisan (that’s what they called him among themselves)? An informant? I can’t believe it!’ I said, ‘No, you’ll have to believe it!’ ‘Oh, really!’ Emka exclaimed. ‘Well, then I’m switching sides! Transfer me to his excavation!’ I complied and moved him to Petrov’s excavation site. And so, on one excavation site, two kyivans came together—two people who were in love with russian poetry. Is it any wonder that it didn’t take long for them to become very close friends? They spent a lot of time together, not only during work but also after hours. They had plenty to talk about, to argue over, and so on. Thus, a real turning point occurred in their relationship. So Viktor Platonovich protected him in every way, even invited him to live in his tent, which was quite a feat on his part, as Emka was rather disorganized kid, while Viktor Platonovich was very neat pearson and always kept everything in order. He even went to the excavation in a tie and with a starched collar. But, in any case, it all ended well” (Roshal-Stroeva).

Thus, one writer-archaeologist joined the expedition of another writer-archaeologist. In her memoirs, Kyiv archaeologist Nadiya Kravchenko recounts how, in 1967, she, Georgy Fyodorov, and his wife, film director Mariyana Roshal (whom Nadiya refers to as a journalist), visited the ailing Viktor Petrov at home. They managed to engage him in conversation, and he shared much about his previously unknown intelligence activities (Kravchenko, 2008, pp. 409-412). Fyodorov, in his turn, told Nadiya that in the early 1950s, after returning from Germany and lacking housing in Moscow, V. Petrov lived for a time at the dacha of Fyodorov’s father-in-law, Grigory Roshal, and his wife, Vera Stroeva, both renowned filmmakers (Kravchenko, 2008, pp. 411-412).”

It remains a fact that the Prut-Dniester expedition led by Georgy Fyodorov is a russian expedition in Ukrainian and Moldovan lands. In 1999, Moldovan archaeologist Mark Tkachuk described the situation as follows: ‘Archaeological Moldova remained largely the domain of surrounding scientific speculations, built on the shaky foundations of reports from the Chișinău Church Archaeological Society, the Suruceni Museum, and a few expeditions by Andrei Moroșan and Radu Vulle. ‘A kind of provincial archaeological Cinderella, waiting for her prince’ (Tkachuk, 1999, p. 8). In Tkachuk’s metaphor, that ‘prince’ became Georgy Fyodorov. However, by the 1970s, the expedition had to wind down its activities. “The provincial Cinderella, having risen to become a princess, turned out to be a contentious, quarrelsome, and ungrateful person,’ summarizes Mark Tkachuk (1999, p. 9). Well, it’s a typical colonial story. It’s not surprising that the 1954 report on the expedition in Odesa did not reach Kyiv’s Scientific Archive of the Institute of Archaeology, but instead remained stored in Moscow. Given this fact, the photographs in folder No. 146 of Viktor Petrov’s collection hold scientific value, require further attribution (some photos relate to Lukashivka and Lopatna), and could interest modern specialists working with materials from Bilhorod-Dnistrovskyi.

As an addition, we publish four letters from Viktor Petrov to Sofia Zerova, covering the period from August 15 to September 6, 1954. From these letters, we can learn some details about the ‘ocium’ and ‘negozium’ of the Prut-Dniester expedition.

The translation of the letters into Ukrainian was done by O. Buzko based on the publication:

Віктор Петров. Листи до Софії Зерової. Упорядниця Вікторія Сергієнко. Вступна стаття Андрія Портнова. [Viktor Petrov. Letters to Sofia Zerova. Edited by Viktoriya Serhiyenko. Introductory article by Andriy Portnov.] К.: Дух і Літера, 2021.

August 15, 1954

The Dniester Basin
Dear Sonya!

Today is Sunday, the 15th. So, two weeks have passed since my departure, and this is my third letter to you since then. This week marks the end of my stay on the banks of the Dniester, and in a few days, still this week, I will depart for Akkerman-Bilhorod, closer to the Black Sea, where I will stay for a couple of weeks, presumably until the end of my expedition.

I hope my letter finds you at the dacha, as your stay there for at least a couple of weeks is a conditio sine qua non. You absolutely must spend yours few weeks outside the city.

I will let you know my new address. Take care. Kisses.
V.

August 22, 1954

The Dniester Basin
Dear Sonya!

I received your letter, which you sent on the 13th, that is, obviously on Friday, on the fifth day, Wednesday the 18th. Thank you for your letter. In my last Sunday letter (the 15th), I mentioned that our departure was planned for this week, but ultimately the schedule changed, and we are leaving next week, likely on Wednesday the 25th.

We were supposed to excavate another grave field in the Podnistrovya region, but instead, the entire expedition team is heading to Bilhorod-Dnistrovskyi, where the September excavations will be focused.

Part of the expedition team has already relocated to Bilhorod (Akkerman). They say Bilhorod-Dnistrovskyi is a charming little town. In any case, it’s a southern, almost seaside town, situated on the Dniester estuary, like in a marine bay. The expedition is staying at the museum, occupying two museum rooms allocated for us, as well as the garden associated with the museum.

Considering that it’s a town, and there are people living in houses, and the town is probably not overcrowded or saturated with dacha-goers, I preliminarily think that it might be possible to rent a room for a couple of weeks, and you could come here.

But you write again that you’re diving back into work and even giving up the dacha, which seems unwise and impractical to me. In any case, you have time to write to me, as I will be in Bilhorod until about mid-September, and then I’ll return through Odesa, which is not very far away.

How can you write to me?! Of course, you could send letters to the museum and the expedition, but I think there’s a main post office in Bilhorod-Dnistrovskyi, besides the smaller ones, where you can send letters addressed to me directly.

Today is the 22nd, the last Sunday here. It’s been nice, but there’s been nothing for a beautiful life—no wine, no grapes, no watermelons. However, there’s been plenty of singing, as the excavation team continuously sings their Moldovan songs. They sing well, which is pleasant. The evenings here are wonderful! Such evenings, which repeat night after night, are rare elsewhere.

Take care of yourself. Write, or even telegraph me. Kisses.
V.

August 30, 1954

Bilhorod-Dnistrovskyi
Dear Sonya!

So, this letter is already from Bilhorod (i.e., Dnistrovskyi) and is written at the post office, after it became clear that there are no letters for me here, although according to my calculations, there should have been a letter for me.

Today is the 30th, Monday—the first day of work at the foot of the old fortress, which has remained untouched, and on the ancient stones of the historic Tyras that have survived amidst the excavated ruins. Surrounding us is the liman, more precisely a sea bay, reminiscent of Odesa, with the opposite shore visible across the water.

We are living in the museum, in a room crowded with people, while others are sleeping in tents. I’m alone in a shared room. Yesterday, we were served watermelons; today, it’s eggplant caviar at a nearby tea house. I’m healthy and continuously gaining weight day by day. How are you? Write to me.

Yours, V.
I’ll be here until mid-September.

September 6, 1954

Bilhorod-Dnistrovskyi
Dear Sonya!

Your letter from the 20th arrived a few days after my arrival, although I expected it to be waiting for me as soon as I got here. You mention that the weather is awful for you; indeed, we had some bad weather here too when we left the tent and traveled from Chișinău to Bilhorod. The weather was decent, but it rained, and the road became muddy, making it difficult to travel for about ten kilometers. However, since my arrival in Bilhorod, the weather has been lovely—warm and dry. Sometimes there are winds, and in the mornings, before the sun rises, it can be chilly in a work suit, but it warms up nicely, even getting quite hot later on.

Today it’s hot, and the grape days are here. Grapes cost 6-7 rubles here, but today they are 5 rubles. Watermelons are seven. They are better than those at the Dniester, but among the good ones, there are often under-ripe and wilted ones. So the watermelon delight isn’t felt every day, and sometimes a state of watermelon indifference takes over. Moreover, we’re living frugally, which is for the best. After all, saving is the best friend of the stomach.

The estuary is shallow, and there are sharp stones near the shore. So, I mostly just rinse off after work rather than swim.

Today is Monday, September 6, and I hope this week will be the last, so I’ll be in Kyiv next week. Please order nice weather from the travel-bureau for my arrival!

Kisses. Yours, V.

References:

Oleksandra Buzko