Luhansk city.
January 2022. Answers provided in Russian.
1. What was your summer like in 2014? What prompted you to leave or stay?
The summer of 2014 is challenging to remember. Before the summer of 2014, there was spring. My son, Zhenya, and I were leading a normal life: he worked, and I worked. We had just finished renovating the apartment; only the balcony remained unfinished. It was an ordinary April morning: breakfast, work calls, a working mood, spring, even an elevated mood… and suddenly someone calls, saying that the SBU (Security Service of Ukraine) building has been seized.
- Who? How?
I don’t know, some Russian…
And it began. The square near the SBU(Security Service of Ukraine) was surrounded by sandbags; some people with weapons guarded a narrow passage. The Ukrainian flag was placed in this passage, and you had to step on it if you wanted to pass. I jumped over, and curses and threats to shoot were directed at me.
A car started moving through the city centre, urging people through a loudspeaker to go to the square and support our guys. Slogans like “Fascism will not pass,” “No to Maidan,” “Stop feeding Ukraine,” “Donbass is Russian,” and so on.
During this time, I was still painting the balcony grates and planting flowers. I don’t remember the exact dates, only the events and disbelief in what was happening, like a terrible dream. Everyone thought it would end soon. An empty city, shots, explosions, mortar fire. The “Grad” (rocket launcher) was operating in the neighbouring yard: the building shook, the glass cracked, but it was short-lived – it fired and left. And we were waiting for the “response.” When there was a loud explosion nearby, we ran to the bomb shelter near our building. Only Zhenya (son) didn’t want to go there; he sat somewhere near a load-bearing wall. There was no communication, no cars in the city, only some military vehicles. Jeeps with people in military uniforms were speeding through the empty city at insane speeds.
2. Is there a story of yours or your close ones that you would like to share? What struck you the most?
There were many stories; I will tell a few of the most vivid ones.
I was at home; my son went to a friend; his house was across the road. It was dark. In the evening, the shelling always intensified. The shelling began: the glass trembled, explosions, mortar fire – I ran out of the house to hide in the bomb shelter, waiting for my son near the entrance; it would take him 3 minutes to walk. It was already 10 minutes, and he was still not there. I ran towards him. I will never forget this scene: sunset, darkness, shells exploding, and on the curb of the road sits an old man, whom my son is trying to lift. The old man is completely drunk and shouts, “I’m not afraid, leave me, let them shoot…” I shout to my son to leave the old man and quickly run to the bomb shelter. He tells me to go there as quickly as possible. He lifts the old man, carries him across the road, takes him to the entrance, and then runs to the bomb shelter.
Now I’m going to my parents in Stanytsia (editor’s note – Stanytsia Luhanska – a town bordering Luhansk, territory under Ukrainian control. A note was made in January 2022; now, in January 2024, this town, since 2022, is occupied by Russians.). I often had to visit them since they were elderly. I travelled to Starobilsk by minibus and then, depending on my luck.
Are there free seats? Will the bus go? Will anyone risk going? We set off at 4 in the morning – dark, people sit crowded, not used to talking, each hoping for their luck. The driver, before starting, crosses himself and says, “Lord! Lord! Help, let it pass!” I sat in the front since it was the only available seat (and the most dangerous). Here we approach Schastye (editor’s note – a town in Luhansk region). The whole horizon is on fire, in smoke, sounds of gunfire and explosions, we stop for a while and then go further. It is impossible to convey in words the speed at which the buses were travelling then. They flew. They flew at full speed because it was considered safer. And here, near Nyzhnia Olkhova (a village in Stanytsia-Luhanska district), the driver shouts, “Get out! Get out! Far away from the bus into the forest!” Of course, everyone jumps out. He says, “We’ll wait until dark, until night. Until the oncoming cars go” (this was a sign that the shelling was over). We sat in the forest for an hour, then looked – a car was driving on the opposite lane. Everyone quickly gets back on the bus. We rush on as if we escaped. We approach the Ukrainian checkpoint; around there are craters from shelling still burning. The same picture was in Stanytsia – burning craters.
3. How did the year 2014 change your life?
By the end of August, we waited, hoped, and then realised that we needed to leave and thought about where. Going to my parents was not an option – they, like us, constantly hid in basements on the front line. They refused to leave their home.
Outside Luhansk, I had three friends: one was a former member of the Verkhovna Rada, the other was close to a deputy. Both of them were in Kyiv. However, none of them answered my calls or called back. We went to the third friend in one of the regional centres of Ukraine (grateful to this person until now!) We barely got tickets for the train. But on that day, the train didn’t go – there was a battle in Debaltseve – railway tracks were blown up. We signed up for a bus (only after 5 days, there were no available seats before that). We had to approach the bus at 4 in the morning. Dead silence in the city, and it seems like the entire Luhansk hears the sound produced by the wheels of my suitcase. It was a minibus for 9 people, a red “Mercedes.” We loaded up, started moving, but not for long. After 15 minutes, 2 cars caught up with us, and people with automatic weapons surrounded the bus. An automatic gun was pointed at me.
- Get out and collect your passports!
They took our passports, saying that divers sabotage the city at night from this bus. However, after 16, people in the city were afraid to even turn on the lights (when it was still there), not to mention driving on the roads. The driver tried to explain something – no one listened; the militants were talking to someone on the radio. A jeep with soldiers arrived. With real Russian soldiers – you could tell by their uniform and Russian accent. They looked, consulted, returned all passports to us, and let us go. Then there was the “road of life” – that’s what they called the sandy road through the forest, which could be used to leave. A long line of cars in one direction leaving Luhansk. Cars stuck in the sand; passengers from other cars helped pull them out. That’s how we drove for several hours. A Ukrainian checkpoint appeared. Document check, luggage inspection, and: “Goodbye! Have a safe journey!”
I cried for the first time in a year.
4. If you had the chance to go back to 2014, would you do something differently? If yes, what specifically?
Perhaps, if we had known what would happen, I wouldn’t have sat with friends in a cafe, wondering why someone suddenly needed to organize “anti-fascism” demonstrations! Back then, students were forced to participate in these demonstrations. Maybe I would have taken part in some pro-Ukrainian actions… Although the Russian scenario was so carefully planned and prepared, plus years of propaganda, it would probably have been difficult to resist.
5. How do you feel about your life now? Do you have any regrets?
How do I feel in my life? Fine, here I am at home! I only regret one thing – that I lived there (editor’s note – in Luhansk) for so long.
6. Do you plan your future? If yes, for what term?
I don’t plan anything, live day by day, even minute by minute, as I know that life is such a fragile thing – here it is, a second… and it’s gone.
January 2024. Responses provided in Russian.
1. On February 24, 2022, a full-scale invasion of Ukraine by Russia began. What was this day like for you? What were your feelings, and how did you react?
On February 24, 2022… At 5 in the morning (or a bit later), a phone call rang out. Night… and suddenly a call! It’s my father. He is 88 years old and lives in Stanytsia-Luhanska. I was horrified! Something happened to him… But his voice was on the line, just somewhat muffled: “War. The war has started.” I said to him, “Are you watching Russian TV again?” But then I hear explosions. I open the balcony. Explosions from different sides… I sit down… What did I feel? No. Not fear… Emptiness. As if I’m looking into an abyss… And there is no bottom. In 2014, it seemed unreal — a little more, and everything would be resolved… Even when we were leaving Luhansk through the forest, the only remaining “road of life,” I thought this nightmare would end soon. Now I know — it’s true, it’s scary, and it’s for a long time.
2. Were you forced to leave Ukraine (perhaps temporarily)? If not, proceed to the next question.
If yes, share your experience abroad: were you in one country the whole time, did you move to several countries, did you have to learn a new language, adapt to a new profession, etc.? Where are you now? Do you plan to return to Ukraine when the military actions end?
Later came the round-the-clock news. Everything was happening somehow automatically. Preparing for war: buying long shelf-life products, water, chocolates, medicines. Shops were closing, buses weren’t running. Only one pharmacy was open. A queue. You had to buy whatever was left. Explosions were happening around. We could already distinguish the explosions of shells from the work of anti-aircraft guns. Heating was turned off. It was cold. Sleepless nights. Many men from our residential complex joined the territorial defence. Everyone helped as they could: equipping bomb shelters and basements, distributing food and water, carrying warm blankets and clothing. I was sewing bandages with a red cross for the territorial defence medics.
Then came Bucha, Irpin, Hostomel… It’s not far from us. Everything could be heard and seen. The bridge near Stoyanka on the Zhytomyr highway was blown up. We didn’t believe that the invaders could pass. And we had no intention of leaving. But… after several sleepless nights, a shell exploded near our building. A three-story building burned down — the shockwave blew out the windows in my apartment. And I understood — I couldn’t bear it. We had to leave. Little benefit from me. Just feed me and protect me… I packed two suitcases, and on March 8th, we left.
We had an old small car, not cleared through customs, with a punctured tire and diesel in a can for 20 km. But on March 8th, around noon, we set off. Changing the tire, refuelling, driving — that’s a separate story! A grey empty road, blocked by concrete blocks (to prevent tanks from passing), barricades of tires and sandbags on the roadside, burned kiosks and ruined buildings, checkpoints, and soldiers with guns. But our car felt — it couldn’t break down, it’s war. And a day later, we were at the border. We told our car, “Thank you,” handed it over to the border guards (they were very happy), crossed the border on foot, and took a bus to Warsaw. From Warsaw, we took a bus to Berlin and a train to Dusseldorf. I am immensely grateful to all the people we met on our way. I didn’t expect that completely strangers could help each other so much. Many thanks to Poland, Polish volunteers, and random people. The transportation was free, they fed us on the bus, gave drinks, gave toys to children, and distributed sweets. In Berlin, with a Ukrainian passport, they gave free tickets for trains to any destination. On the train to Dusseldorf, a German woman, learning that we were from Ukraine, tried to give us her first-class tickets and wanted to go to our seats herself. It was so touching that I cried. I will never forget how empathetic and tolerant people in Germany were towards us: explaining, helping, giving furniture, things, and groceries. Germany provided us with everything necessary for life: financial assistance, an apartment, health insurance, the opportunity to study, and work. Now everyone decides how to use this opportunity. I have been in Germany (in Duisburg) for two years now. I’m finishing German language courses. I really want to learn the language! Although I don’t have clear plans for life in Germany. My life remains in Ukraine. And I want to return to it…
4. What changes and transformations have occurred with you (if any) as a person during these two years of full-scale invasion?
SIGNIFICANT CHANGES have taken place. Indeed, they began as early as 2014. After two years of full-scale war, they finally took shape and solidified. I am a person from the USSR. I lived a significant part of my life there. And it was hard for me to understand (or rather not to understand), where I come from, what is Homeland, where my country is, and what my nationality is. The war put everything in its place. Now I know for sure that I am Ukrainian, I am from Ukraine, I was born here (and I like talking about it). I know for sure what language my Homeland speaks, I want to learn it and speak it. As it turned out, I like Ukrainian songs, I discovered facts from the history of Ukraine and the names of its heroes with interest. I wear an embroidered shirt with unbridled pleasure. Now I know exactly where my country is, where my compatriots are, who my friends are, and who my enemies are. Everything that once seemed “not so straightforward” has acquired clear contours of truth, justice, love, and hatred.
5. If you could go back to 2014, would you do anything differently?
If we go back to 2014… I wouldn’t have thought that it was some politics somewhere and that it didn’t concern me…If everything could be turned back. Then, looking at someone organising demonstrations against fascism and wondering, “Why is this? Where did they find fascism?” — a thought involuntarily flashed. On silly posters about a fraternal people, television shows in defence of the Russian language in Donbas, listening to acquaintances talk about how our Donbas feeds the entire western Ukraine, about gas that Ukraine steals from Russia, about “Maidanites” in Kyiv, and a Maidan paid by America. I wouldn’t have thought that these are just political games of someone else that don’t concern my life. It’s hard to say what I would have done, but… at least, I would have joined small pro-Ukrainian rallies under the yellow-blue flag. I think many would have joined if we could go back… I don’t know if we could resist the well-thought-out Russian scenario of capturing Donbas for a long time, but at least we would resist…
6. Do you plan your future? If yes, for what term? How do you envision the future of Ukraine?
To be honest… I don’t plan my future. I planned it in Luhansk until 2014, then in Kyiv from 2015, and… it didn’t help in any way. Now, I’ve been in Germany for 2 years, and again… the future is unclear. I live day by day, constantly listening to news and analytical streams, often crying when I read about the casualties and destruction. After shelling, I call Ukraine to find out if my loved ones are alive, contribute a bit to the army, and have no doubt about Ukraine’s Victory (only afraid to think about the cost of this victory).
The audio format of the stories will be available on the Unveiled Ukraine YouTube channel.