Ukrainian Soldier Returns Home in Prisoner Swap

Oleksandr "Sasha" Oliynyk has not seen his family for over three years. In February 2015, he was captured by the self-proclaimed “Donetsk People’s Republic” (DPR) while serving in the Ukrainian army. Has mother has not heard his voice for a year and a half. 

On December 27, Ukraine exchanged 233 prisoners of war for 73 captives held by the Russian-led separatists of the self-proclaimed “Donetsk and Luhansk People’s Republics.”  One of them was Oleksandr Oliynyk.

This video report is the story of his return from captivity. Below is the story of his mother.

Tetyana Oliynyk follows all the news about prisoner exchanges, leafs through letters from her son and jumps every time the phone rings — she is the mother of Oleksandr Oliynyk, a prisoner of war. She has been waiting for the return of her son for almost three years and it has been more than a year since she’s heard his voice. On her birthday, he sent her a handmade postcard.

Tetyana regularly travels to Kyiv with a picture of her son to attend rallies in support of prisoners, fearing that he’s been forgotten. But she also tells Hromadske that she wants to apologize to her son when she finally sees him, and fears he’ll be disappointed when he returns home.

Read More: Ukraine Holds Prisoner Exchange with Russia-Led Separatists

Tetyana lives in the village of Batkiv in the Rivne region of western Ukraine. Snow has begun to fall and the lake next her house is freezing over. She wanders around the yard, feeding the turkeys and rabbits and showing us her property.

“There used to be a horse, but I had to give it up because it was sick. Sasha used to ride it sometimes. And here are the pigs. We kept one, we were waiting for Sasha, [one] was butchered but the other is still waiting for him. I hope that he’ll be home soon.”

Tetyana Oliynyk. Photo Credit: Oleksandra Chernova / Hromadske

Tetyana takes a newspaper from the stables to use as kindling, but notices an article about prisoners of war on the last page. She reads it right away.

“And whose story [is this], I know almost all of them. Sasha is also in this photo and that’s us at the rally, I’m holding the poster.”

Expecting us as guests, Tetyana prepared enough food to feed an army, and we couldn’t refuse. “Put down your camera, it won’t go anywhere. I’ll tell you everything after,” she says. But the story starts right away.

“He also fought in Iraq. In total he has 12 years of military experience. He trained as a driver and then joined the army and decided to become a soldier. When he wanted to go to Iraq we had to sign his documents to give permission, he was still young. We let him go. Of course we worried, I didn’t sleep at night, called [him] constantly. This time he didn’t ask anyone.”

Tetyana takes care of the farm herself, wandering around the yard feeding turkeys and rabbits. Photo Credit: Oleksandra Chernova / Hromadske

 Oleksandr Oliynyk – or as his mother calls him, Sasha – was captured on February 9, 2015, just one week after the battle of Debaltseve. He served as a member of the 128th Mountain Infantry Brigade of the Ukrainian Armed Forces. His mother says that since he went to the front she tried to call him everyday, if her son didn’t have any special tasks. When she was unable to get through to him two days in a row, she started to worry. Then one of Sasha’s colleagues called and told her that her son was being held captive.

“I can’t even say that I felt anything then. The earth simply went out from under my feet. Imprisoned on our own territory,”  says Tetyana, her eyes filled with tears.

Tetyana later found out how her son was taken prisoner from those who were released. It was filmed by journalists from a Russian television channel and uploaded to Youtube. Tetyana says she wasn’t shown the video for a long time, but now takes printouts from the video to rallies in support of prisoners.

It happened near the village of Lohvinove, in the Donetsk region of eastern Ukraine. Oleksandr was driving a car with a friend when shelling began. He was wearing a flak jacket but his friend was not, so he covered him. Tetyana tells us that the mother of the man he saved now says that she has two sons.

“God’s hand was protecting them, I’m sure of it. Because they could have just been shot. One shouted ‘do it, do it!’ but the other said ‘there’s no need.’”

Sasha had an obvious head wound, but was treated. Then he called his mother. According to her, she couldn’t understand anything, she just heard: “Hi, mom. I’m alive and healthy, in prison. Don’t worry.” She couldn’t say anything, she just cried. Later Sasha began to call more often, he and other prisoners were sent to work in occupied Horlivka and in Donetsk. He repaired cars.

“He was interrogated by [Alexander] Zakharchenko [self-proclaimed “President” of the “Donetsk People’s Republic”]. He didn’t tell me anything but the guys who were with him said so. They were put up against the wall, as if to shoot [them]. They asked, ‘what’s your last wish?’ He said ‘that my body be sent home.’ It was hard there. His teeth were sawed with a file and then they were beaten.”

Photos of video recordings taken by Russian journalists on the day Sasha was taken captive. Photo Credit: Oleksandra Chernova / Hromadske

Tetyana stays in contact with other mothers and wives of prisoners of war, and those who are considered missing. They meet in Kyiv or Lviv to exchange news and read letters to each other, to find out more about how their “boys” are living.

Read More: A Mother’s Search For Son in War-Torn Eastern Ukraine

Today, the most important topic of discussion is the “74 for 306” exchange which was initially set to take place “before the new year.” Even those who do not know for sure if their relatives are alive rejoice: they’re happy for everyone. Tetyana says that it’s better not to get one’s hopes up in advance, so as not to be disappointed. The women raise their glasses and, instead of a toast, they pray that their sons will return home as soon as possible.

“He sent me this on my birthday,” she says, showing us a sheet of paper decorated with flowers and butterflies in coloured pencil. Beneath the picture it reads “Congratulations on your birthday, Mom. From your son, Sasha” in neat handwriting.

Letters from Oleksandr. Photo Credit: Oleksandra Chernova / Hromadske

The women are given these letters by the International Committee of the Red Cross. Relatives also try to send parcels to the prisoners through them. But it doesn’t always work.

“Sometimes they don’t reach them or they take out what we send to them,” Tetyana Oliynyk says. “For example, raw sugar can’t be used, only refined sugar. But what can I hide in sugar? Sometimes they don’t transmit anything at all, although the guys make lists of what they need most of all. They don’t even have shampoo there. Before we were allowed to send [things] but later, when they were sent to the colony, everything was forbidden. And he hasn’t called for a year because of it. I’ve forgotten the sound of his voice.”

The prisoners of war were initially held in a cellar in Donetsk. Then they were transferred to the Makiyvska prison colony. Ukrainian parliamentarian Nadiya Savchenko travelled there one year ago with informal negotiator Volodymyr Ruban. Savchenko returned with a list of names of those she saw in the cells and told stories about the conditions of the prisoners being detained in the colony.

A woman shows her friend the last letter from her son, dated December 4. Suddenly, a phone rings. She searches for it in her pockets — “and suddenly the little one calls,” she says. But no, it’s not him this time.

Tetyana (right) stays in contact with other mothers and wives of prisoners of war, and those who are considered missing.  Photo Credit: Oleksandra Chernova / Hromadske

Today, in the self-proclaimed Donetsk People’s Republic, they want the prisoners to “stand trial” on “terrorism charges.” Tetyana worries that Sasha will be sent somewhere where she can’t find him, but her son reassures her.

“We didn’t admit our guilt. It’s just some kind of absurdity. And who are they to judge us for something? We are strong as flint and hard as rocks. And everything that can’t break us makes us stronger.” — these are Tetyana’s favourite lines from her son’s letters. She rereads them again and again.

Tetyana’s granddaughter is decorating the Christmas tree. She’s also waiting for her godfather. She shows us the toys he gave her and the photographs of Oleksandr holding her as a baby in his arms. Tetyana leafs through an album of army photos of her son – pictures from Ukraine and Iraq, of young Sasha in the barracks, amusing himself with his comrades-in-arms.

“Those poor things think that everything here — in our lives and in the government — has changed already, given how long they’ve been gone. I’m really afraid they’ll be disappointed when they come back.”

Tetyana knows that her son won’t return from the captivity the way he was before. He’ll need help and support. She doesn’t know when that day will be, but says that she plans to apologize.

“I’ll fall on my knees and beg for forgiveness because it took so long to free them,” she says. “So that they forgive us because fighting for their release took so long, for all they suffered for all of us.They gave so much of their young life — three years have been lost. I’ll apologize for that.”

/Written by Anna Tokhmakhchi and Oleksandra Chernova

/Translated and Adapted by Eilish Hart