“Almost a year without seeing the sky”: Ukrainian soldier recalls Russian captivity

Ivan is 25 years old and has spent over two years in captivity. He has been in the army since he was 19, always dreaming of military service. As an Azov soldier, Ivan found himself caught in the full-scale war in Mariupol, where he was captured.

Surrendering to captivity. How did you feel about the order?

It was the right decision because, had there been no such order and the command had been simply to "hold the line," we would have continued losing lives every day. Ammunition was running low, and the number of wounded was increasing. It was a sensible choice, as it saved lives and allowed for at least some medical assistance to be provided to the injured.

How did you exit? Tell us about the process.

First, we evacuated the seriously wounded. We left Azovstal through a large corridor, with Russian soldiers and militants from the Donetsk People's Republic standing on both sides.

When I was leaving, I understood that, yes, we were surrendering, but some of the Russians were in worse condition than we were. They were unkempt and wild.

We were put on buses and sent to Olenivka.

Olenivka: cramped barracks, Russian anthem mornings, interrogations

What was it like in Olenivka?

When we arrived, there was, of course, a search. We came with our backpacks, some still had sleeping bags, and so on. During the search (which was frankly laughable), their soldiers and intelligence officers took our shoes, jackets, sleeping mats, and flashlights for themselves. It looked ridiculous.

In Olenivka, we were settled in barracks with open grounds. The barracks were designed for about 100 people, but there were over 300 of us, so there was no space. Beds were packed tightly, but even that wasn’t enough. Many slept on the floor or outside in sleeping bags. The daily routine was simple: first, the Russian anthem would play — we didn’t sing, just listened. Wake-up was at 7 a.m., lights-out around 10 p.m. Meals were initially served on schedule, but as more prisoners arrived, it worsened. Breakfast would come at noon, and dinner at 4 a.m.

The rest of the day, we weren’t forced to do anything. We just walked around, talked with friends — and that was it.

What were you fed?

The food was extremely scarce. It was bland, unsalted, and lacked any fat. In the morning, they gave us porridge, and for lunch, either pasta or soup. After a few days, they stopped serving a second dish altogether, leaving only soup.

How long were you there?

I stayed in Olenivka until around August. Then I was transferred to the Donetsk pre-trial detention center. That was about a week before the terrorist attack...

Were you interrogated in Olenivka?

Yes, nearly every soldier was "processed" at first — our personal information was recorded, and so on. For some, it was a one-time event, while others faced regular interrogations. Mariupol was in ruins, with many civilians killed. They needed to assign blame, so they questioned us about any evidence related to events in Mariupol: who stayed, who did what.

"Prosecutor's Office" in Donetsk

What happened next, after Olenivka?

In Olenivka, there was almost no physical violence. But everything changed during the transfer to another detention vehicle. My backpack, hat, and even my shoes were taken — someone decided, "He has nice sneakers, let's take them." We were then brought to the "prosecutor's office," where the interrogation lasted 18 hours. After that, we spent three days in a temporary detention center before being transferred to the Donetsk pre-trial detention facility.

In the "prosecutor's office," we were kept in handcuffs and with masks over our heads. I was taken to an office on the fourth floor and seated in a chair. An interrogator and a guard were present.

They asked everything: where I was born, studied, worked, and what I was doing in Mariupol. I stuck to the rule of "I don't know, I don't remember," but it didn’t help. If I said, "I don’t know," they started beating me.

Eventually, they removed the mask, placed documents in front of me, and told me to sign them. I refused and asked to read them, which earned me an electric shock in the restroom. In the end, I signed everything just to preserve my health.

During one of the interrogations, I noticed the office was filled with stolen Ukrainian items: emblems, laptops, phones — everything looted from Mariupol.

Hell in Donetsk pre-trial detention center

What happened after the prosecutor's office?

We were transferred to the Donetsk pre-trial detention center. This was the hardest period. As soon as we stepped out of the transport vehicle, physical violence began: they beat us with plastic pipes, fists, and rubber batons. They forced us to sign a document stating that no violence had been used against us. Afterward, we were separated into cells.

The cells were designed for 10 people, but there were 25 of us. There was no space to sleep, and no mattresses either. The beds were cold, metal frames. The room was damp, without windows, and drafty. Most of us had almost no clothing — some were in just a T-shirt and underwear, others in just underwear.

Food was nearly nonexistent. We were fed three times a day, but the portions were tiny. It was usually wheat porridge, rice, or soup — essentially water with a piece of potato, if you were lucky. Dinner was powdered mashed potatoes.

How did you cope with the cold?

We didn’t. The body used all its energy to keep warm, but there wasn’t enough food or vitamins. People lost significant weight and started falling ill. We were forbidden to sit; we had to stand all day, with sitting allowed only during meals for 5 minutes. Legs swelled, and for some, they began to fester.

How did you feel mentally?

I tried to stay strong. I understood that I couldn’t change anything. My life was in the hands of either a random guard patrolling the corridor or their special services. No matter what I did, nothing would change. I always prepared myself for both the best and the worst.

I knew our people wanted to bring their own back. But doubts always crept in, especially given how Russians treated our unit, which they hated. Surviving was hard, but I didn’t lose hope.

Let's just say that taking your own life is a bad idea. You always want to live. And I was just sitting there thinking that one day it would end, for better or for worse, but it would end.

Tell us about the so-called "contests."

The "contests," as we called them, happened every day, and each day was a new trial. As soon as we heard there would be a check at the post, we knew the "contest" was starting. They would enter every cell with dogs. The barking and their yelling — it was all very mentally difficult. Many times, we heard screams of pain — it was tough. But even in such conditions, we tried to find some solace. We laughed at those screams, calling them Polish rap, because all we could hear was "oh-oh" and "ah-ah." Of course, we couldn’t stay in this state without emotions, so we tried to cheer ourselves up somehow.

How did you support each other?

It was a difficult situation.

The cell is like a small ship. You can’t leave, and you don’t want to die in it. So, we supported each other. If someone was feeling down, we tried to talk to them, to engage them in conversation. We were one team, and it was very important not to let sadness spread throughout the whole cell.

Every day, it got harder mentally, but we looked for even the smallest things that could help us stay alive.

Horlivka: better conditions, but more violence

In the Donetsk detention center, you spent 11 months, and where did you go next?

Later, there was Horlivka, and the conditions were better there. There were beds, mattresses, more food. But there was more physical abuse because everyone knows a certain Kyrylo Viktorovych, who tortured people both in Olenivka and Horlivka. He really damaged my health there. Still, we got used to pain and humiliation; it's human nature.

In Horlivka, the Russian special services — GRU, FSB — came for interrogations. They were trying to extract such information, that you'd think, "What are you even talking about?" For example, they asked: "Where is your ammunition production facility at Azovstal? Where did you produce chemical weapons? Where are your planes?" Very strange questions.

However, there was one big advantage: we were taken for walks. Of course, it was surrounded by walls and fences, but I could see the sky. For 11 months, I hadn't seen the sky, the sun — nothing. I only saw one lightbulb, which we called the moon because it was always on.

Back to hell

But there was another transfer.

I spent 4 and a half months in Horlivka. Then, some of us were transferred again.

One day, we were told, "Get ready, you will be transferred." Where to? No one says anything, no explanations. We were taken to a transfer cell, the paddy wagons arrived, took us, and brought us to another place.

It's important to mention that when we were still in Donetsk pre-trial detention center, we didn’t have any clocks, and we oriented ourselves by the factory whistles: every shift change was marked by a whistle.

So, we were brought from Horlivka to a new place, and we heard those whistles again. Everyone immediately understood that we had returned to that horrible place.

We were brought back to a cell designed for 10 people. And there were exactly 10 of us. When we entered the cell, we were very surprised to see mattresses. Of course, they were dirty and torn, but they were there. And there were blankets — one for each of us. This really surprised us because there were some changes. But the dampness, drafts, water problems — everything remained the same as before. The food didn’t change either; it was still meager. But one thing to note: physical violence was much less.

Overall, there was a monotony every day, where you constantly discuss the same topic ten times, share your thoughts with someone, and everything repeats over and over...

We spent about seven months there. Seven months in a damp basement. And again, that lamp, which we called the moon. Because of it, I now have vision problems: the bright light irritates my eyes, they start to tear. A light breeze also affects my eyes greatly.

New penal colony

And then, another place?

Later, we were sent to the 33rd colony. We arrived there, and again, the same "intake," "contest." We were placed in cells, but they didn't give us mattresses, and there was nothing. However, there was enough food, and we were told that we'd stay there for 14 days, then be moved to the barracks, similar to the ones in Olenivka. These were barracks with an outdoor area where we could go out and see the sky.

Of course, we didn't believe this. But on the 15th day, they really moved us from the cells, gave us mattresses, bedding, and we were actually moved to the barracks, where other people were already. It became an opportunity for communication. There were books, and if there were no problems in the barrack, we could read them.

What does "no problems" mean?

During all the time we were in Donetsk, Horlivka, and then back in Donetsk, we sang the national anthem of the Russian Federation, "Katyusha," "The Day of Victory" every day. Sometimes we could sing for an entire day. When we arrived at the colony, there were 25 songs we had to know. These were all songs written in 1945, Soviet songs. From their perspective, this was important; they tried to support their army through these songs. And, of course, we marched. If we marched poorly or didn’t sing loudly enough, they would take away books, for example.

In the colony's yard, I could walk up to 20 km a day around the yard. I understood the animals in cages who walk like that. I walked and thought, it’s 2024, but people here (in Russia, in Donbas) are uncivilized and backward. They have problems that other countries solved long ago, and they’re stuck in place. Their civilian population is not developing.

It's the same with books. I read them, regardless of the Russian language and what they were about. It was fiction. There were chess and checkers. I played constantly whenever I had free time.