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On January 31, the occupiers of Donbas launched 46 shellings. At the same time, mainly heavy weapons were used. As a result of the hostilities, two Ukrainian soldiers were wounded, and two were injured.

In the Donetsk direction, in the Avdiivka area, the occupiers fired about a hundred BM-21 Grad rocket launchers at the positions of the ATO forces. The defenders of Ukraine were also shelled with 152-mm artillery. Tanks repeatedly opened fire. In addition, the occupiers fired 120-mm mortars on Avdiivka, Dosvidcheny and Verkhnyotoretsk and Luhansk – with grenade launchers and small arms.

In the direction of Mariupol, the Russian occupying forces shelled Vodyane and Berdyanske with 122-mm artillery, Novogrigorivka, Krasnogorivka, Pavlopil, Talakivtsi, Novotroitske and the same Vodyane with 120-mm mortars. Militants opened fire from small arms near Shirokina and Novogrigoryevike. An enemy sniper “worked” for Chermalyk.

It was quieter in the Luhansk direction: fire from 82-mm mortars was recorded there in Krymskyi, Troitskyi and Novozvanivka.

The Special Monitoring Mission of the OSCE has reported a sharp increase in hostilities, including heavy artillery and other types of weapons prohibited by the Minsk Agreement,” the US State Department said.

The message mentions that dozens of Ukrainian soldiers and 10 civilians died due to the resumption of hostilities. In addition, 17,000 civilians, including 2,500 children, were left without water, heat or electricity.

The State Service for Emergency Situations of Ukraine (SES) reported that as of the morning of February 1, 2017, fighting was ongoing in Avdiivka.

As reported by the Ministry of Internal Affairs, the terrorists do not observe the regime of silence, which they have repeatedly requested from the Ukrainian side.

Before that, they damaged the railway line between Avdiyivka and Ocheretyne.

In addition, heat supply in the city, where about 22,000 people live, is provided centrally at the expense of the plant’s heat and power plant on natural gas. The air temperature in the apartments is 15 degrees Celsius.

There is no centralized power supply. Objects of the social and household sphere, which do not have their own backup power supply systems, are provided with electricity from 5 generators of the State Emergency Service (there are 12 generators of different power in reserve, 3 powerful mobile power plants are additionally involved).

“As of 07:00 on February 1, the agreement on the regime of silence has not been fulfilled. Shelling continues,” the message reads.
The State Emergency Service noted that the Avdiyivka-Ocheretyne railway track was damaged by shelling, and pyrotechnics are ready to demine the area after the silence.

In the city, heat supply is provided centrally at the expense of a natural gas thermal power plant, the temperature of the coolant in the heating network is 50 degrees Celsius, and the air temperature in the apartments is 15 degrees Celsius.

We set out for the East, like all the volunteers, determined to get as many provisions and other vital things as possible to our boys in the hot spot of this wickedly frozen war in the middle of winter. We squeezed urgent little things into the overloaded car, which slipped out time and time again, so we pushed them back into all the crevices and fought for another couple of hours for expensive space at the exit from the city. I was placed in the middle of this restless urgency, which throughout the hours of the journey, fell on me from all sides, pushing, not allowing me to sleep. The strangest of all the exotic orders, as I was told, in the entire volunteer epic in this war, was primarily determined to fall on their heads. Because already on the way out of the city, to my naive question on the phone of the combatant – “What do you want so delicious, the very thing?” And the bass with a hoarseness from the tube over the loudspeaker suddenly brought all my companions into a state of shock: “But we have everything! Yes, honestly! .. Well, maybe one thing … My boys … um, maybe some Coca-Cola, um – and hamburgers! … On everyone! The best gift for the boys. They missed this job.” “Yes, combat!” I blurted out. And immediately, I bought an order with makchikenami in chicken boxes, and they squeezed our bus under the ceiling. The pizza was especially unspeakable, falling out alternately with helmets. But everyone survived, and nothing exotic was harmed. My companions were “lucky” with laughter.

And how happy the boys returning from the front, from the night shift to all these cold machines in the morning! No persuasions “to warm up, that’s it!” – were not considered. DUK, for a moment, forgot about the war and became childishly happy. The forgotten life looked through the crack into the baptized life.

However, we were also rewarded. We were immediately taken with them to protect “Sky”! This is an almost destroyed tower, 300 meters high opposite the wreckage of Donetsk Airport, still a strategically important point. These places are fired day and night. Even getting to it is unrealistically difficult. You have to run across an open area at the crosshairs of Russian snipers, right in front of the mortars and among other enemy iron. For the guys protecting “Sky”, you need to manage to climb to the height of “Sky” in hundreds of meters every God’s morning under aimed fire so as not to make your enemy hungry for every death happy. And so – every morning and every evening.

We passed our baptism of fire “in heaven” – “on earth”. The battle was not long, but after it I began to understand better why this matter – the defence of one’s heaven and earth – is taking so long.
In the middle of the day, mortar rain began from howitzers and hail, and we fell into the basement. It wasn’t scary, it was more fun, the boys – some were having fun, laughing at the enemy’s blunders, their squint with crooked hands, some were half asleep, some were not without curiosity looking into the camera lens, remembering their strange stories. They told stories and were proud of their DUK resident, a Dutchman, a beautiful photographer and a Right Sector volunteer, dark-skinned and young. Once he stayed, he did not go to Holland. But, as he says, he became a member of the Right Sector in Bandera. Well, how can we not remember the fables of the enemy TV channel with ancient locks about foreigners exiled to the ranks of dills and what is essential – blacks! And fun. From what the Dutchman says, the soldiers do not understand anything except for one statement that he is a true “son of the regiment” of the PS, and he is very proud of it. I took a short interview with the Dutchman when suddenly, as a joke, it turned out that he is for peace in the whole world and here – only as a chronicler. And, in general, against any war. And then it suddenly turns out that they all think so here, all for that long-seen and unheard-of peace. And after all the conversations with the fighters, it became clear that the true PS fighter is the best. The one for peace in the whole world… Here, where everything seems unreal, a toy, and at the same time, so real that, apparently, only eternity remains.

Among such bright, kind, beautiful people, inspired and so alive, who, I’m afraid, are nowhere else and in no corner of the world where I have not been taken – I know for sure! – I haven’t seen it, and I won’t see it, I won’t find it anywhere. My favourites: “Gonta” and “Angel” are as bright and lively as two fighters who are together, as if they are “Siamese twins”. Their brightness and life so overwhelm them that they sprout into you, remaining forever your family. Humanity goes so far that you want to be pinched because you are 100% sure – this is the fantastic world of Andrii Platonov. These are his heroes, with their bright depths, with a burning purity that stings the heart and burns the eyes, with chevelure spacious souls, powerful, weighty, with biblical “pit” life, light and dense humanity in everything, in words, smiles.

In another small house on the very edge of this world of ours, close to the line of contact with the wall of fire of the Russians, two boys – “ghosts” of the Ilovaisk “cauldron”, who passed that “road of death” and Russian captivity, the winter of holding the enemy at the Donetsk Airport, I guess they didn’t understand my naive questions. “And how long does it take to remember after seventeen “airport frosty days” those who were “forgotten” there on the day of the rotation, with a long-standing concussion “? “Rambo” – the “ghost” of Ilovaisk and DAP – answered as if he was thinking about something else: “They don’t come back from there. Because when your “brother” dies next to you, it can never be accepted. That is, the fact that he, wet from the morning shower, will never again, laughing, look into your dugout, will not secretly pull a cut sausage from the table, and then will not chop firewood for everyone. With such a cavity in your life – it becomes different – alien to you, just as you are to yourself. If you don’t come back from there, you’re not you anymore. Somebody else. It’s useless to treat it.”

By the fireplace, “my ghosts” remember those “cauldrons”, each on their own way from there, captive, their “questions” into the space without answers. The boy, who has barely turned 18, is busy with his favourite business. Day and night, he assembles and disassembles his powerful arsenal, mortar, and other heavy toys. I ask: “Did you also stand in line on the “road of life” and rush like everyone else? Why?” With a sunny smile, he answers without letting go of the “toys”: “So who didn’t rush there”! And he just as easily gives me his cosy place for the night. And here he is, already running to fix “toy” mechanisms to lubricate them in the morning.

It was actually strangely comfortable for me there, in a volunteer sleeping bag, listening all night to the cannonade of those lullabies from “Hail” and howitzers, counting: here near the village, the house, near, near, near the airport, further, far away. Suddenly I catch myself with an incomprehensible feeling, listening to this symphony – that it is something so important, almost grandiose, perhaps – like approaching the place where God stopped and settled. No, not the One from the Old Testament, who is near Sinai, no – He is now here and ours, His, as it were, “brother”, already too close, completely native.

In the evening, by the fireplace of someone’s abandoned country house, I again clearly understand that in the midst of this everyday life – in fact, there is no longer any everyday life, this is existence. People with biblical souls, ghostly from their own light, confidently live in the liturgical time. Inside, in its core, they do not leave there. In any case, that’s how my vision captured them, those voices, actions, impulses of the heart, instant decisions. It’s like listening to “in the middle of the deep silence of the night, eternity draws a thick, ancient bass note.” This is how one master of sound content with perfect hearing, who was well versed in the sound field – shades, Pyotr Tchaikovsky, wrote about something similar.
I knew one thing. In a few days, these boys will go along the new “road of life” to the icy catharsis at the edge of the earth, to the one made of humming metal, where there are no doors or windows because the frozen one stands in the watershed of being and non-being, good and its hollow reflection. There they will fend off the powerful blows of elite Russian special forces from Mordor, forgetting in the icy wind that their fingers have already grown into metal. And the toes don’t even tingle because you can’t feel anything, where the body has lost its usual sensations. All these paper shoes and clothes are not for the hurricane cold, where there is almost no use for a small bag. In the world of a flurry of ice and other shards, bursting sniper, and ricochet whistles – a phantom dream is already beyond the limit of the mind, and therefore it seems that you are sleeping. From the lobes of the ears to the lobes of the fingers – I am sure that life has not flowed for a long time. The prudent arrow of life has stopped.

And then two young fighters hoist a flag over this icy peninsula of existence. The enemy gets so angry that he directs all his firepower there. The guys laugh, snapping their fingers: “Yes, a grenade launcher at us, an RPG, a MANPADS with a howitzer? You would have sent fighters to the flag! Well, did you miss?” In response – Russian good-natured cursing and solid – “Allah Akbar”, and a new mortar round.

The next day. One of them receives a wound that is not compatible with life. The second carries him on himself, risking to remain open to a sniper, and pulls out his “brother”. But still loses.

 

In Volnovas, I met a zampolit completely by chance, who immediately caught my eye for something. Maybe, in a thick beard and all “contaminated” by gunpowder, it probably got under the skin. When I filmed him on camera, he sparingly told his story, smiling sincerely and as if embarrassed by every breath of life. He rejoiced at one first-aid kit that fell into his hands from us – one for the entire howitzer brigade, as a Christmas tree gift from St. Nicholas himself. But again, he smiles madly beautifully while saying: – Well, if we had known in advance how it was here, we would have bought felt boots… – “Do you need felt boots”? – “Well, you can’t warm up in the dugout after shifts because there”…No longer knowing what else to pull out of the empty car, I convulsively grope for a bag with meagre sweets, guiltily hold it out: – “It’s with nuts, it’s good for you”… And in response, on a machine, as if in the image on a Byzantine fresco of virgins of the 19th century, where a prosphora lies in one outstretched palm, and in response to it – a kiss, the affection of the heart, the yearning for its warmth… This is how I recognize the priest’s father in his zampolit. To my question with a trembling voice: – “And how did you find the golden mean in this: there are no special conditions and exceptions for “do not kill”, it’s difficult, isn’t it?” – “But it’s difficult. But I am delaying this terrible hour as much as I can, I just hope: today I will be spared the choice.”

This man, full of so much love and kindness and so handsome that you can’t take your eyes off him, looked like a child – STANDING – and getting wet in the rain. As if a job, who would stand all the time, like Jacob, would fight in the night until: “You bless” all of us. This is how Moses would stand when he took off his sandals. And then, sitting in the car, as now, almost every day, I pray for such a simple thing: may the test of choice, for which in his love for heaven and the human soul, he will never be ready, pass him by even today.

At that time, I still did not understand why I liked all kinds of sounds of the night of the military parade and its streets, which it is not desirable to cross because there is a sniper at the other end. And don’t go to the yard without your eyebrows – the night is soaked with an icy sieve, lead bursting, ricocheting blows and whistles. My room is in the risk zone, in the line of fire, because it is on the side of the terminal. And “grads” are not quiet with “carnations” and “pinnacles”, or with “nones”. But in the morning, our RPGs will pull back. And fire positions will disappear. Our response to the elite Russian special forces will be harsh to all that is allowed under the City Agreements. And then 200 of those who were not invited to our land, who came here not to “drink a seagull” will be escorted to Rostov in a group of more than two hundred units. I would like to ask – why was it necessary to go so far, get cold, to return like this? But it’s late.

Our commandos from the fire-covered point, where they were stuck for a long time, still returned. They stayed there for 17 days. They are also former Ilovai “ghosts”. All are confused. They came out of the fire in their “leather robes” – in “ghost clothes” burned to the skin. They were covered with grenade launchers, RPGs, and anti-tank guns. Today, after 14 days, with all the same concussion, the “ghosts” go to a new point.

 

Until I understood many things, but she quickly learned one thing: our boys need fur mittens, felt boots, powerful diesel-powered stoves, honest and humane clothes from us, transport, and fuel – to even take the wounded out of the battlefield, we just need our humanity.

And so that those who should return them would no longer forget them there, those in the headquarters and in warm, tanned fur coats would take them out.

These are “days of silence”. The mass media assure us – it seems that fewer people die in our country. And the death of my beautiful angels in that ghostly truce remains unnoticed. I want to shout out their names, everyone whom I will not see again, who remained to lie in the ice desert, looking into the sky with their piercing blue and brown eyes. So that they never become forgotten by someone, “ghosts”…

A year passed when Dmitry Kulish returned home from captivity after nine months of torture. Today we remember what captivity was for him. How strange are the intersections of fate… Two captives – two opponents, almost simultaneously: “Semyorka” – there, here – “Frenchman.” As if in the confrontation, as the firstborn, will they come out of their trials more humane and with honour, or radically different? Their meetings in the line of fire and in captivity, to some extent, became turning points in this difficult story.

In peaceful life before the war, they were philologists, Dmitry – teacher, “Frenchman,” Yuri. Yurcheno – in France – a playwright, in Russia, a famous poet. But with the outbreak of war, “Frenchman” – the right hand of “Strelkov” Girkin, to whom he went undercover, masquerading as a French journalist. A year after his two-week captivity, he will read his poems in the Kremlin about how he was captured by Semyorka.

Dmitry Kulish, with the call sign “Semerka” – a fighter of the Donbas battalion, performs the strapping of the unit commander. When he was in the hands of the DNI-Ivets for the seventh month, his wife, Svetlana Kulish, from the DNI pre-trial detention centre, was sent a sentence of January 14, 2014, with a decision: 20 years in prison. As a result of the torture, almost all the bones were broken. Later, the wife received honey/conclusion: compression fracture of the spine of the thoracic and lumbar region, 4 and 11 calls Fracture of two legs, fracture of the ribs – two under the right collarbone, two on the left in the middle, a crack of the left hand, a fracture of the right hand, a fracture of the thumb of the left hand, a fracture of the ring finger of the right hand. Fractures: three fingers on both legs, a fracture of the right foot, and cracks in both knee cups. Broken femoral tendons so that it does not feel the legs. Lowered kidneys. Concussion of the brain. Shrapnel wound to the right foot. Two shrapnel wounds to the occipital part of the head and right ear. Two concussions from August 18 and 29.

Dmitry’s return from captivity was not easy. He was immediately denied, even in the hope of an exchange. In the spring of 2016, the Röhm battalion commander from the PS captured the militant Viktor Korobkov, the unrelated son of the influential commander of the 5th company, the so-called “DPR.” Korobkov senior put not only how much effort into exchanging his son for an important for both sides Dmitry Kulish. On his own, he dragged Dmytro out of the SIZO and even showed him unusual care for the circumstances. For a long time, all attempts to exchange prisoners ended in failure. Only on June 4, 2015, an exchange was made at the zero checkpoint.
– Dmitry, let’s start with how they were captured and where exactly?

We got into captivity when we left Ilovaisk, which was held for 10 days. We entered the so-called “green corridor,” and the shelling by Russian units began with all the weapons they had. These are 131 DShB and 6 tank brigades. After 36 hours of fighting in Krasnoselske, we were forced to surrender. We were promised by Russian officers that the wounded would be handed over to representatives of the International Red Cross. But they never kept the word “Donbas”. They did not return and sold to the so-called DNR. Their “terrorists” immediately took 112 Donbas fighters to the former SBU building, where they were held for six months, a year, and more.

When were you injured?

During the battle, at the exit from the “corridor.” When we were taken, I had three bullet wounds to the head, 2 severe contusions, and an injured foot. And there was one opportunity to return home with the wounded, but, as the unit commander, he could not leave his fighters to their fate. When we arrived at the SBU, torture, beatings, and moral pressure began there, everything that can be imagined and not, except rapes.

– Of course, rape, then exclusively the prerogative of the Russian FSB. Can you learn more about this torture?

They beat with their hands, feet, clubs, butts, and extension cords from computers, from which the ribs “burst.” Fights were beaten so that it was clear: when absolute blackness from haemorrhages came off the body, I counted 55 prints of a club on only one left knee. I wondered how this was possible. It was blue, or rather, black all over. Personally, I broke rubber batons. I did not even know how it was possible that a rubber baton, when hitting the body, could shatter. It turns out that it can. Some guys put cellophane balls on their heads, strangled, and they lost consciousness: the so-called “Russian mask” In that room were walls under two meters, laid with ceramic tiles, then at full height to the ceiling, it was filled with blood during interrogation. Again, I had contusions, blood was flowing through my nose and mouth, from my ears, and when I was hit, it spread everywhere.

The food was on the verge of not being edible. We were given dried grain, which was poured with hot water. Almost rotten, broken grain, from which inedible unsalted porridge with sand was made. Whether they swept grain from the floor or how, but to eat, we drained all our porridge to the ceiling, poured cold water, split so that the sand settled on the bottom, and then tried to eat, more or less without stones or sand. Once, they gave me soup. I think, oh! It turns out that they poured diesel fuel there. Well, they sat and caught potatoes from the diesel fuel. In two months, all my boys lost 5o per cent of their weight. Moving around was hard. We were kept in the SBU bomb shelter, in which there was not enough air, and the ventilation did not work. If you had to climb up, then on the way lost consciousness. Only after such cases of falls began to briefly withdraw breathing air. I personally had 13 bone fractures at the third interrogation, including a pelvic fracture and a compression fracture of the spine. That’s how they re-educated.

– What exactly did they want to hear during the interrogation?

Specifically – nothing. Basically, they asked, “Why did you come here?.” And what can be answered? What came? – and beat, even if the answer is not very expected. I say that I had to defend the land, invaded, here, the Russian troops, and they: “And where did you see them?” And they laugh and beat again. Or: “Where did I hide the special weapon? Say it will “get to you.” – “What sponge? I know nothing. ”

When we captured them in Ilovaisk, not only Russians were among them. There was even a Slovak and a Frenchman. Both later said they were “letopists” and journalists. The “Frenchman,” Yuri Yurchenko, was actually from Russia, although for a long time, he lived in France.
– As far as I know, you were tortured most of all and should be for what they knew – it was “Semyorka” who captured these “important birds”?

It’s just that those “birds” remembered me best. I am of great stature, all the time on the front, without a balaclava, then after their release, they told their own: “Semyorka” took prisoner, rigidly took that the “Frenchman” allegedly broke his leg and ribs. I have photos from the 19th, where the prisoners are all in satisfactory condition, not crippled. Yurchenko stands on his feet, waving his arms, explaining something. If there was a fracture, I would not stand on my feet. And with broken ribs, I know for myself you will not swing your hands. Yes, I rushed so that barely restrained, as can be seen in the photo. Understand who needed medical care. Everyone was given it. I remember that when they clashed with this group in the line of fire, a fight ensued. The Frenchman fell on his leg and probably dislocated. Because I immediately asked to correct it. And we set him in the same place. This is a war. To capture so carefully that nothing happens is impossible. They were armed with chevrons, the “Frenchman” shouted that he was Girkin’s right hand, “unconquerable,” and so on. He behaved very indecently and raunchy, covered everyone with “obscenity,” and sent wherever he wanted. And now he is here – a poet, playwright and “press.” Which of them is both “press,” if they went with weapons in intelligence, and even so far to us wandered? The Frenchman was with a holster hanging on his leg, which we removed when everyone was disarmed. Yes, we kept all the prisoners at school. These two were hidden in lockers, and where else? We were in the boiler and had only this school building. And we were under massive fire with heavy artillery, “hail,” “hurricanes,” mortars with a calibre of 82 and 120, “Saushki,” tanks. All this stood next to the school, near the local hospital, so that they even fell into their own. Then these iron cabinets detained during these attacks more than once saved lives. On August 24, they were taken out of the Ila, so they stayed with us for 5 days, and in total, their captivity lasted only 2 weeks, and not 3 months, as they say, crying everywhere now, from August 19 to September 7. There is no way three months. They were immediately exchanged, and on September 14, the “Frenchman” was again in Donetsk with the “separatists,” where I saw him.

– Did you or your soldiers in captivity receive medical care?

I emphasize that no one provided any medical assistance to prisoners of war to the soldiers of the National Guard of the Donbas battalion. None! None. Broken bones. Indicative drove to the emergency room. Twice in all time. These trips made no sense. A doctor came out, gnashing his teeth as sparks went, and said – “why are you lying? Get up and go.” Well, I replied – “the time will come, and I will leave.” What appeared right at the emergency room drove the knife bayonet into my right leg along the handle itself; the scar remained majestic. The second doctor did an imitation X-ray, and then only the pelvis and the left hand, which was broken in three places and a fracture of the hand and two fingers. This doctor was a little more patient with us; for a long time, he examined a picture of a broken pelvis, realizing that the fracture was not received in battle but the result of beatings.

– In the building of the former SBU, how many were your captured fighters at that time?

There were 112 of our fighters. They beat everyone, but I’m probably the best. Due to the fact that he took prisoners, he was the commander of the unit. They, by that time, already had a good and technical means with the function of radio interception (I wonder – where?). They recorded our negotiations on the radio. And those whose voice or name in the negotiations sounded the most, those more tortured. Still, others were beaten so that some could not stand it, and that is understandable; here, it is not up to insults. Some came and said, I’m sorry, they beat you so much that they couldn’t stand it; they turned you in a little.

– Still, for what did they beat?

For existing. One “yellow officer” from St. Petersburg asked: “Why did you come here?” – “Well, why did you come here from Peter?” So he pulled me out, pounded me, and the whole conversation. Four times they wanted to cut out their eyes with a knife. Six times they tried to shoot, put them to the wall, four times from that I was sure that really everything. When he did not go, they put him on a chair in the office and pointedly spread out cellophane film “so that it would beat us clean.” They demanded to go over to their side. And they filmed it all. Here come on, pointedly, you will pass, and then we… And if you don’t go over, then let’s shoot. “Well, come on, shoot.”
– Do you remember those who were tortured?

In the face – everyone. And according to the call signs, those who participated in my mutilation most harshly are Adrenaline, Sadist, Roll, Zhora, Nick, Falcon, and from the so-called counterintelligence – Molchun, Hare, Thirteenth. From the photo, I identify everyone who beat our guys.

– Could they call their relatives?

They were not going to return, so they did not give them such an opportunity. Only once, when they decided to transfer to a pre-trial detention centre, they persuaded me to allow one call to a woman.

– When they transferred to the SIZO, did the beatings continue?

There, the penitentiary service officers again beat, broke the chest, and bowed their heads. So that hematoma appeared on the head, like a half-litre jar. Immediately I was thrown “to kill in the cell to the looking after the prison.” And then, he was transferred to a punishment cell, where he spent six months. I was not allowed out of it at all, not for a walk, not to the doctor for two months. It is still customary there that every Monday, a health worker comes and asks – how are you? Evening and morning checks are as follows – the corps comes in and checks the condition because the shift passes. But no one ever opened my door.

– After these months, did the punishment cell receive any medical care?

It’s ridiculous, so call their help! My wife at that time, through the “prison mail”, asked: “and give at least some painkillers.” The headaches were severe. Normal people are everywhere, even among the “convicts,” they sometimes delivered me painkillers such as cinnamon.

– Why did you decide not to return?

what great negotiators conveyed to them the wild idea that I was a sniper and that I had “arms to the elbow in blood.” They planned to give me the highest measure and would give me as much as running in the end. I was sentenced by some of their courts to 20 years.

– Were they taken to court? What was charged?

They didn’t take me anywhere. What incriminated- I have no idea. I only had on my hands some pieces of paper from the “main investigative department of the MGB of the DPR.” They have some wild concepts. I know a guy whom they sentenced to 3 years of the strict regime and another 2 years without the right to move. I don’t know what that means. But this Evgeny Chudnetsov should sit with them for 32 years. Before that, he himself is from Makiivka. He had all his front teeth broken in half. I ask him: “Wow, how is it?” – “Pliers broke.” – “Yeah, of course.”

– It is not clear to me how fractures could have grown correctly without medical help.

Mated wrong. But now, no one will break them back with spine problems. If something is difficult to lift, then you can lie down again for a long time. We all struggle with this somehow, but… Thank God there are hands – feet.

– I know from your wife Svetlana that for your release, she was lured 150 thousand dollars. Do you have to?

Personally, no. And others, I heard, were offered. Korobkov, preparing my exchange, one “person” suggested that “all went well,” give her 2 thousand dollars. (The name is not indicated for the safety of those in captivity). One for $100 a day promised to remove torture.

– The elder Korobkov, who was preparing the exchange, was there “influential” at that time?

He told me that he had served nine and a half years in his life. Now he was already the commander of the 5th company and had connections in the MGB. Zakharchenko personally signed his permission for my exchange. Two hours later, he took me out of the pre-trial detention centre and hid me in the territory of his military unit. Therefore, they believe that I escaped from the investigative experiment and not how I left in exchange.

-I knew Yu. Yurchenko, long before the war, in another life. This is so terrible that the war opens its eyes, or when familiar friends – stand “on the other side of the barricades” “The Frenchman” behaved too ugly after his release. Perhaps you would like to say something to him?

I don’t like all the untruths I hear in every interview he has with the media about his content. After not following your word and all the far-fetched stories, what can I say? All this slander outraged me. My brother-in-law carried him on himself from the battlefield because he, you see, twisted his leg. After returning to Donetsk, the “Frenchman” told my brother that he would do everything so that he would go first in exchange because he was humane to him. But the brother sat with broken ribs for six months “in the pit.”

– How did captivity affect your life? Any insults? Are any personal changes tangible?

Affected health. Now I have been assigned a disability of group 2; there are big problems with the fact that these injuries were inflicted. And no offence. Changes? The only thing is that when you know hunger and cold, then everything falls into place. When the best sons of Ukraine die next to you, then you understand that you will never stop, and you will never forgive the aggressor because you will not return the lives of the dead. There is no right for people to sell their death, and those who sell have no right to life!

 

Pictured:

Dmitry Kulish, Maryinka, 2014
“Frenchman” in Donetsk, the first of the right.
Ilovaisk, August 19, 2014.
Dmytro Kulish, Popasne, 2014
Dmitry Kulish in Lysychansk with gifts from Zhirinovsky and the LDPR party, the base of the Ghost battalion, 2014