On the eve of the disaster, the Leningrad Geophysical Observatory predicted that the water level in the Neva would rise to 6-8 feet (180-250 cm) above the normal level, which was almost routine for Leningraders accustomed to autumn floods. Moreover, the memory of the severe flood of November 24, 1922 (228 cm) two years earlier, which Petrograd had survived without losses, was still fresh. Therefore, despite the ever-increasing wind from the sea, in the hustle and bustle of everyday affairs, few people paid attention to the frightening behavior of the river, until at two o’clock in the afternoon cannon shots were heard from the Peter and Paul Fortress, announcing the danger (Catherine II had ordered cannon fire in the event of a cataclysm in 1777). The city perked up and began to prepare for the onslaught of the elements.
The wind grew stronger, bending trees, tearing down wires, knocking passersby off their feet – and driving the Baltic waves further and further into the city. By three o’clock in the afternoon, the Neva had flooded the bridges, cutting off the islands from the center. By 4 o’clock, when the water had passed the two-meter mark of the tide gauge, all the islands in the mouth were flooded. Two hours later, a Pravda correspondent telegraphed to the capital: “By 5 o’clock the water had overflowed its banks and flooded Vasilievsky Island, Mytninskaya Embankment, Roshal Embankment (now Admiralty Embankment – author’s note) and rushed to Uritsky Square (Palace Square – author’s note) and 25th October Prospect (Nevsky – author’s note). A river runs along this avenue, tram service has stopped. Water is flooding courtyards and basements. The entire commercial pavement is washed away, the end walls are rushing along the street. Pedestrian movement is completely impossible, since on 25th October Prospect the water reaches almost knee-deep… The entire sea is flooded, the factories on the islands are flooded.”
Following the Neva, the Moika, Fontanka and Yekaterininsky Canal overflowed their banks. Telephone and power lines were cut off, the water supply system failed. The city was plunged into darkness, fires broke out in different parts of the city, and entire neighborhoods were cut off from the outside world. Police boats floated along the streets, picking up citizens in distress. Residents of basements and lower floors sought refuge on the roofs and in the front doors of multi-story buildings.
The water began to recede around 9 p.m. At 10:30 p.m., the capital received a new telegram: “The flood is receding. The wind has died down, and the water has been receding for two hours. Traffic is gradually resuming on the flooded streets. Telephones in the flooded areas are not working yet, and the electric lighting is also out of order.” And yet, most of Vasilievsky Island and the Palace Embankment remained in water until the following morning.
The next morning, the city, bathed in bright sunshine, presented a bizarre spectacle: washed-out pavements, bristling with logs and end-pieces, mountains of rubbish, boats lying on tram rails, huge barges thrown out onto the streets and squares. According to the recollections of Leningraders, in the middle of Nevsky Prospect “one could stumble upon a sofa on which a half-dressed citizen, exhausted by yesterday’s difficult experience, was sleeping. Women were immediately hanging up their soaked clothes to dry, setting out furniture swollen from water in the sun and rinsing laundry in the Fontanka.” Long “tails” forgotten over several peaceful years lined up near street taps from which drinking water was weakly gushing, and kerosene shops. All the fences on Krestovsky were blown away, and corpses of livestock and dogs were strewn about the vegetable gardens. The inhabitants of the Zoological Garden also had a hard time – the water killed 87 individuals.
Vasilievsky Island after the flood. 1924. Photo: pastvu.com
From 8 a.m. the entire male population was mobilized to clear the rubble and restore communications. With the help of the police, military and fire brigades, cavalry units and a flotilla of tugboats, tram service, electric lighting and sewerage were partially restored by the end of the day. Pumps were brought to Leningrad from all over the country to pump water out of basements and sinkholes. It took several years to completely restore the infrastructure, housing stock and industry of the Northern capital. The catastrophe forced people to seriously talk about the need to build protective structures, but it was only in the 21st century that this project was realized.
Petersburg and “long waves”
Surge floods are a common occurrence in St. Petersburg, especially in the fall. The city is located at the mouth of the Neva, one of the deepest rivers in Europe, and Atlantic cyclones drive Baltic “long waves” here. A flood is considered to be a rise in water level by 160 cm above zero on the Kronstadt tide gauge.
Palace Embankment after the water receded. 1924. Photo: flickr.com
A flood with a water level of 161-210 cm is considered dangerous. A water level of 210-299 cm is especially dangerous. Finally, a water level of 300 cm is a catastrophic flood. 80 times since its foundation, St. Petersburg has experienced especially dangerous floods and three times the water level rose higher than three meters – in 1777, 1824 and 1924. Only in the 21st century did surge floods cease to threaten the cultural capital: in 2011, a system of protective structures was put into operation that takes the brunt of the Baltic elements.
The 1924 flood through the eyes of eyewitnesses
Korney Chukovsky, writer
Yesterday a flood, millions in losses, a fire, and today the sun. Yesterday it was like a revolution – queues at kerosene and bread shops, trams overflowing with free passengers, completely thrown off the route; desperate, cheerful, like drunken crowds and conversations about separate parts of the city: “and in Diagon Alley – water”, “all of Furshtatskaya is flooded”, “you can’t get to Kazanskaya”. In my presence, a whole pile of iron fell off a roof and almost killed people.
Nikolay Punin, art historian
It was five o’clock… they started shooting from the fortress every three minutes. As I was leaving, a boy ran in and shouted: “Go away quickly. The Catherine Canal has overflowed its banks.” On Kazanskaya Square the wind was tossing and tearing; because the rain was lashing down and because it was slippery and uncomfortable to walk, the wind was blowing me off the sidewalk. In the area of the square the canal was still within its banks, but water was gushing in a thick fountain from the manholes near the cathedral rotunda. Traffic along Nevsky was noticeably disturbed, trams were stopping, there were more pedestrians than usual, they were walking quickly, some were running, overtaking the crowd. … I was running up to the corner of the Engineer’s Castle and Sadovaya, when first I began to come across draymen on horseback on unharnessed horses, then pedestrians rushing about with puzzled and at the same time animated faces – and finally – the water started flowing; it swayed along the cobblestones at the edges of the road, bulged at the ends in the middle of the pavement, and in the distance it spread out across the entire Field of Mars as a wide grey-yellow lake; here too the wind carried the water dust far and wide and tore at the trees.
Mytninskaya embankment after the flood. 1924. Photo: humus.livejournal.com
In the distance a boat was sailing along Sergievskaya; we turned back to Liteiny Bridge. People were crowding at the embankment parapet, laughing merrily; they were cracking jokes, catching a hat that had fallen into the Neva, and assessing the extent of the flood.
The Neva was menacing; huge waves lashed at the very parapet, splashed on people, fell foaming; the entire embankment floated up, the sabres rustled as a solid mass moving along the surface of the water. Nothing could be seen in the distance, which made the clouds seem even lower; a wild, gusty wind whistled on the bridge… They started shooting more often again; several times the wind blew so hard that we had to grab hold of the bridge railing; it was scary from the dark, maddened and enormous; the faces of the few passers-by we encountered on the bridge became serious. At that moment, somewhere not far above us, a solid mass of grey-black clouds broke for a minute, and a yellow light ran into the darkness of the night, then everything was covered again, swirled, whistled, and rain poured down; shots were muffled, they did not seem so prophetic in this roar, whistle and roar…
Ada Onoshkovich-Yatsyna, translator
Looking out the window, I saw that in one place, just opposite Sredniy Prospekt, the water had overflowed its banks and formed a large puddle approximately two square sazhens. Street boys, rolling up their trousers, were stomping around in this puddle with gusto. However, by four o’clock it had grown so much that everyone began to think about a real flood…
Cleaning on Dobrolyubov Avenue. 1924. Photo: pastvu.com
The water rose with an unexpected speed. At about seven o’clock we saw from our balcony how the lower floors were being flooded. The water pipes were not working. The electricity went out. The city, plunged into darkness, was being gnawed and tormented by gray waves. The wood storehouse was scattered, and the wood was carried away by the stream like a herd of white sea animals. Some of it turned onto Sredniy, and we caught it from the balcony, tying a basket to a rope… The sky lit up pink, as if with a Bengal fire. Explosions were heard. A few minutes later a fire started. It was (as we later learned) the chemical plant warehouses on Vatny Island that were burning. It was terrifying. The rock, so seemingly invincible, was at the mercy of fire and water. These two age-old enemies had united to better, more reliably wipe the city off the face of the earth…
Robert Kulle, writer
Petersburg experienced a great shock: on the 23rd there was a huge flood, one of the rare in its strength in this wet city. There was no rain, rather it was clear, but the wind was sharp and very strong. It tore off signs, iron sheets from roofs. Crosses on churches swayed visibly. The water rose quickly and began to flood at 2 o’clock; by 6 o’clock the whole city was under water.
Pavement stones turned up by water. 1924. Photo: humus.livejournal.com
A strange inhabitant, this Petersburger! At first he went about his business indifferently, then he rushed about in panic on the diminishing area of the dry continent under the pressure of water from all sides, or threw himself into the first building he came across, or heroically walked into the water, occasionally only taking off his shoes, and then just in his clothes. Women lifted their skirts above their navels and walked through the water without embarrassment. In some places the water reached their chins… It should be noted the general confusion of the population, for whom the disaster came as a surprise. The authorities, of course, did nothing, and now, out of habit, lie: the proletariat, they say, met the elements in an organized manner and gave them a rebuff. Nothing resembling the truth.
Water is a terrible thing. When it approaches from all sides, gradually taking over all the space around people rushing about on a small patch of land, it becomes truly terrifying from the awareness of the helplessness of the “king of nature”, the dreamer of “universal” human happiness. What power there is in water! Enormous slabs of sidewalks are shifted, hundreds of fathoms of end pavement are raised and moved from their place, literally all pavements are washed away, barges are thrown onto the embankment, large kiosks are carried away. Residents of the first basement floors suffered greatly, their belongings were soaked, the market furniture that came apart was destroyed, supplies of food, clothing, etc. were lost.
Source: rodina-history.ru
