“My wife died. She burned to death. I don’t know how I didn’t go mad then”

“If we had an urgent case or there were a lot of people, we operated even on the floor,” says a paediatric surgeon from Mariupol Oleksandr Martyntsov. “The entire traumatology department’s hallway was filled with wounded patients. I felt like I was crossed out of my life.”

On 24 February, I was on the way to my work, as usual (we worked according to the schedule). I worked during the day-time shift and had some duty shifts. We worked as usual.

We received a message that the war began, but you know, we had a special situation in Mariupol. We knew that Azov Regiment was protecting us, and artillery kept firing uninterruptedly from Staryi Krym to Shyrokyne. They were shelling the so-called “DPR” (unrecognized Donetsk People’s Republic) troops there.

We knew that a fortified area was being built from that side, that no danger to the city or anything else similar was expected from that side. Well, we did not have any such concern. We went to work on 24 February without any concerns. There was some shelling, but all the rockets kept flying over us and there, in the direction of the “DPR” positions.

We kept coming to our work, as our patients were sick children. Our department, our surgical division, was for children. On 24 February, we stayed at work. All recovering patients were discharged. Their parents came and took them home.

We prescribed them outpatient/home treatment, gave them all the recommendations, and they took the children. Only serious cases remained, those who could not be discharged home. Mostly children with peritonitis. There were not many of them, but they remained in the department.

We worked according to the peace-time schedule in February. Then, the work schedule for March was communicated, and we followed it.

Some of us worked in the emergency crew, went on duty, and others managed patients during a day-time shift. Although we understood that there was a war, that there were shelling attacks, they did not affect us yet.

So, I was on my way… I clearly remember, it was 6 March, Sunday. I was on the way to my work, despite the fact it was Sunday. I had a severe case, a child with peritonitis, and I needed to see the patient, to adjust the treatment.

There was no more electricity supply. Everything was already cut off: gas, electricity, and water. When I went outside, I noticed that local residents... the inhabitants of the surrounding [multi-flat] houses all spilled out into the street and all kindled fires outdoors.

Well, obviously they needed to cook some food and everything else. Our yard is very large, seven 9-storey buildings built around a courtyard. Those open fires were everywhere throughout the whole yard. It was quiet around, when I was walking along Metalurgiv Avenue. I lived near Kirova Square. Those open fires were everywhere along Metalurgiv Avenue, and everywhere else, in every yard.

I came to my work. I already noticed that the ambulances were passing by me, but I was going on foot to our hospital. I didn’t know what happened. I was just near the entrance door and noticed that there was an emergency crew...

We had a surgeon, traumatologist, anaesthesiologist, resuscitator on duty around the clock. Well, a full emergency service crew. I noticed that the operating room was already working.

It was at about seven o’clock in the morning, or maybe half past seven. So, the ambulances literally came one by one, and patients were taken out. I noticed that those were wounded adult patients. Notably, they were seriously wounded.

It was clear right off that those were patients for amputations of arms and legs, and patients with shrapnel wounds. I called at the operating room. A team of traumatologists was already performing an operation there. It was an amputation done to a severely wounded patient. And then I was told that a massive shelling of the city’s Central District began, right when local people just went outside.

They [the invaders] were just shelling the buildings. I don’t know how they did it, but their mines mostly fell in those yards. So, you understand that people were wounded and killed there.

I immediately put on my uniform and went to the operating room. And I left the operating room at one in the morning. Why do I remember that it was 6 March? I couldn’t imagine that this could actually happen.

We have the traumatology department’s hallway going from the operating room to the main entrance. So the whole hallway was occupied by the wounded. People were lying on the floor, people were sitting near the operating room, and near the main entrance, because there was no other place. Everywhere in the hallway.

And the ambulances kept coming and coming. There were a lot of them. The ambulances were still running then. Severe cases (there was some space in the middle of the hallway) were immediately rolled on a gurney from the main entrance to the operating room. We were paediatric surgeons and paediatric traumatologists.

We had not dealt with adult patients. But literally an hour after the first wounded was operated on, we were already working as military surgeons in wartime conditions. We forgot that we had been paediatric surgeons.

It was difficult. Especially since... there were some specifics, but we learned about them in the course of the operation, we learned in the act.

The first challenge we faced was triage. We had been operating since 6 March. We had no time to remember what the military did there. We managed the wounded. Basically, we had two operating rooms open. We had two anaesthesia machines, two operating tables, and a gurney; one gurney was in the operating room and another one in the hallway.

So we could simultaneously operate on four wounded patients. The two [operating tables], where the anaesthesia machines were, were used for severe and extremely severe cases. Where some amputations could be done under amphetamine, traumatologists did them on gurneys, right in the hallway.

Well, big wounds that could be treated under local anaesthesia. If there was something very urgent or there were a lot of people, we operated right on the floor. Well, stretchers were taken off the gurney... and the wounded was placed on them.

That was already the fifth wounded patient. We could do five operations at the same time. So, we ran into this difficulty from the onset. We were just overwhelmed. The wounded kept coming, and all the operations were of major nature, especially on the abdominal cavity, penetrating wounds. It took us quite a time to find those holes...

Shell fragments pierced through, making not one, but four or five holes in the patients’ intestines, or in the stomach. Those were extremely severe cases. A queue…, a queue of the wounded. We placed them where it was possible.

We did not have any free space. As soon as some place was freed, a new wounded patient was put there immediately, and soon we were overwhelmed.

Then, when we finished at one o’clock in the morning, we gathered to discuss how to proceed further, as we realized that we would not be able to continue long at such a pace.

So we then came to the conclusion that we needed to nominate somebody to do a triage. We started doing that the next day, at around six in the morning.

Our surgeon was engaged only in doing triage. We noticed certain relief right off. Seriously wounded patients were taken to the operating room. Outpatients were waiting aside, waiting for a free place.

We treated the wounds and pulled out [shell] fragments, doing all this on an outpatient basis. We stitched patients’ wounds up and sent people back home.

We conceived and mastered the peculiarities of military surgery simply in the act; we learned it by doing. One thing is when you read a textbook about it, and another thing is when a wounded man with severe injuries is in front of you, including certain peculiarities.

When it is a shell fragment, it is not a domestic injury. The fragment flies along a certain trajectory that is unpredictable. It damages any body organ, anywhere in the abdominal cavity. And the task of the surgeon is to find this hole, sew up the intestines, the stomach, and the liver, and save this wounded patient.

I remember well the first wounded man on 6 March, as he was my first patient then. It was a male patient. They had gone out to get some water. Water availability was a problem then. There was no water anywhere. He took some bottles for water and went out to Prymorskyi Park.

There was a spring there, near the mosque. He filled the bottles with water, and when he was leaving, a mine flew in. So, his neighbour, with whom he came there, was killed, and he himself was wounded in the abdominal area. It’s good that there was a car, and some other people remained alive there.

They quickly brought him to us, and he was taken to the operating table immediately. Well, I had to sew up five holes then. And it took me some time before I found them and pulled out a fragment...

You see, it was small, the size of a centimetre and a half, but it caused a lot of troubles. If he had not been operated on, he would have died. But he survived. He was a man of sturdy build, about 40 years old.

 He was the first one, and then others followed... severe cases, seriously wounded patients. So, I dealt only with serious cases, with severely wounded patients. We did the triage. Well, in the operating room, my assistant and I took care of the seriously wounded, and others were helping out.

Outpatients were given some medical aid in the hallway. Our every working day started at around 6 o’clock in the morning. People came out of their houses to cook some food outside. And all those “DPR” soldiers, and Russians, knew about it.

They started mortar shelling. That was it. Then locals would start to bring us the wounded. The first three days were a real hell. It was from six in the morning until twelve at night (sometimes even longer, during the night-time). You know what the point is...

When darkness fell, people went inside, they went back home. After all, indoors the walls could save them from mines, from shell fragments. So, once it became dark outside, our situation turned a bit better and quieter.

There were fewer wounded in the operating room, and we could further deal with those who remained. In the evening, a new wave of the wounded was brought, and we operated on them.

We could not operate on all of them right away, so we performed operations until one in the morning. Well, at least, no new patients were delivered then.

Well, certainly there were some wounded patients in the evening too, as shellfire and mortar fire continued around the clock. If people walked somewhere, they could get wounded on the street. Then people finally learned it.

For three days, they were being killed, just killed, and then people understood. Yes, they need to cook some food, and they need to bring some water. And they did not believe the fact that mines were flying there. So many people died… Half of them did not make it to us. Some of them died then and there, and some died along the way.

Well, everyone who died was also brought to us. Basically, there was no other place where the dead could be taken. They were brought to us and piled up. We had a site near the main entrance, so all the dead bodies were placed there.

Those who died after the operation, from the shock. You see, what all patients were exposed to in the first place was shock from blood loss, pain shock and other shock of the kind.

We had limited supplies of medicines. So, in the first days, we piled the dead bodied. We had a catering department with a large refrigerator, so we put them there.

During the night, up to four patients died. We put them under the staircase first, and then in the morning, volunteers took them there, to the refrigerator. Soon we faced the fact that there was no space where to put the bodies. We had to put them near the main entrance.

We had a huge number of those killed and wounded, and those who died after the operation there. You see what the matter was... To understand the situation we were in, especially in the early days…

They would bring a patient with a penetrating wound of the abdominal cavity. The patient was placed on the operating table immediately, and the anaesthesiologist was engaged. He said, “The patient does not hold the blood pressure.”

The patient was wounded, he did not hold the pressure, that is, his pressure dropped. I injected dopamine, and the anaesthesiologist said, “The pressure does not hold.” I injected everything we had. That’s all, a cardiac arrest. We couldn’t even start the operation in that condition.

It depended on how long the wounded was on the way to us. He could have been lying somewhere on the road before he was found. This worked against the wounded. He was brought in such a shock that was irreversible. No matter what we do and whatever we inject... That’s it.

Unfortunately, this patient died on the first day. Then, the second one followed him. He had the abdominal cavity wound too. Bleeding. He lost a lot of blood, but we still performed the operation.

The anaesthesiologist and the surgeon did their best, they performed the operation. Well, the patient seemed to have endured it.

Stitches were put, but the anaesthesiologist said that cardiac arrest occurred then. No matter what he tried, he could not restart the patient’s heartbeat.

The reason was shock. He was not taken out of shock. It was such a level of shock that it was irreversible. The operation was completed with the anaesthesiologist’s help, but it was such a pity.

It was such a difficult operation, and in the end the wounded man died. That happened quite often... Those were our patients, wounded people, who died after operations.

We worked in such conditions for three days, and then it got a little easier. Well, I can hardly say it was way easier. Another problem befell us right away. You know, the first day was the hardest.

We had about a hundred wounded patients. Everyone suffered from pain, and everyone had bleeding. Well, that was a real hell. The next morning, the next day, traumatologist Stepanenko and I were standing in the hallway, looking around. We realized that all the wards on the ground floor were packed full. Our windows were still intact then.

All the wards were full up. People were lying on the floor in the hallway, and on the first floor too. As for the first floor, we sent patients with light wounds up there. Well, those who could walk, who could go there themselves. They could not leave… First, it was already night-time, curfew, and there was nowhere to go. So, we accommodated them on the first floor.

People understood this – the rule of two walls. They did not want to go to bed in the wards, although we still had acceptable conditions there, and the windows were intact. There were some beds with mattresses still available. No, they refused. Because of the windows. A mine could hit and shatter the windows. So all of them stayed in the hallway.

The beds were taken out into the hallway. Patients were lying in beds in the hallway, between the wards. So, in the morning of the next day, our traumatologist and I were standing there. We realized that we did not have a single free space, neither in the hallway on the floor, nor in the wards. And the wards were full up with the wounded.

Well, the problem arose on the first day. It’s good that we solved it. Acting [chief doctor] Mykhalenko gave us a permission, and we did not have to write any medical documentation any more. We had no time for that. We tried to fill in the logbook, though.

Well, like last name, first name, patronymic, and maybe address and injury type – that was all, if we had time. A nurse was walking around with this logbook, among a crowd of wounded people, writing down their details.

There was no document filing. We did not know the patients, we did not know what kind of wounds they had, what kind of [medical] aid...

And most importantly, when the ambulances started to bring the wounded, we had no beds where we could put them. So, we went on a medical round with it [with the logbook].

My colleague made examinations as a traumatologist, and I looked as a surgeon. We took a nurse with us, who wrote down all the prescriptions. So we did a triage assessment.

Well, one patient could go home right away. We told him how to do dressings, and what to use for that, on an outpatient basis. As for those seriously wounded, and my patients were mostly bad cases with abdominal cavity wounds, there was no way around it.

Previously, they would normally be in the intensive care department. We had a small intensive care unit, meant for very serious cases, while all these patients were seriously wounded. I could not imagine it... all the rules and standards effective for peace-time, for pre-war condition, were breached.

A patient was kept in the general ward after the laparotomy, after such a terrible wound. Well, what could we do? We also had only one nurse for all the wounded.

Doctor Symonenko and I would make up a written treatment plan for everyone, would identify some outpatient [treatment] cases, and would give everyone our recommendations. Where possible, we asked people right off, “Can you walk?” – “Yes, I can”.

So we freed some room, had some empty beds. Patients from the second wave would take their places immediately. We applied a triage assessment already at this stage, when taking people to the wards.

Our triage technique was like this: severe cases remained [in the hospital], while those who could walk were discharged and asked to go home. They were on outpatient treatment.

We gave them all the instructions and made the necessary prescriptions. And people accepted it, showing understanding... They saw it all, and they were also scared, not so much by the sight of injuries, but by the sight of blood everywhere. People were crying everywhere.

I was walking along the hallway and passed by a father with a teenage girl, 12 years old. The traumatologist told him the diagnosis. What to do?

The father said, “I do not agree.” Well, the traumatologist said, “What can I do? This is what I can offer.” He saw me and came up to me immediately, as I’m a surgeon. He said, “The girl has the middle finger of her right hand injured all the way down to the base. It is amputation”.

Her finger was hanging only on a piece of skin, and there was already no blood circulation, nothing. Her father… You see, they raised this child, and she studied music.

She played [a musical instrument] very well... The traumatologist suggested that the amputation was needed. That was it. It would put an end to her further career, would screw up her whole life. Her father could not even think about it.

But, unfortunately, we could do nothing to help her, and only amputation was needed. Every patient, every wounded person had this situation. Mostly pain, and pain again...

But there were other cases too. An elderly woman stopped me, when I walked along the hallway. I was actually running, as we didn’t walk then, we rather ran back and forth.

She stopped me and said, “Sonny, I have a splinter stuck in my sole. Can you pull it out, and I will go home?” Well, there were no free beds, everything was occupied, even the space on the floor. She said, “I can sit here on a chair, and you will pull it out.” Well, I asked her to sit down, “OK, show it to me.”

It was a large fragment, indeed. Half stuck, and a half of it stuck out. “Can you bear it, madam?” “Sure, take it out.” I walked away to take a tool, and then I came back and pulled it out.

I asked her, “Madam, would you like to take this fragment as a keepsake?” – “Why do I need it? Just throw it away”. I put a bandage on, and the woman went home. So, there were such people too. Well, that situation with the wounded lasted for some ten days. We had it for some ten days already... But we depended on the circumstances, which, you know... whether we believed in the war or not.

Mariupol could have been saved. We would have been protected by Azov Regiment.

They had enough force and weapons. Well, we are civilians, and we understood that from one side, there were those “DPR” troops, but Azov was here.

They would not pass through there. And we were confident about the side in direction from Zaporizhzhia. I was sure that there were landmines on the way to that damned Chonhar.

And as soon as the Russians start moving, this Chonhar would be gone. It would be blown up immediately, and they would not be able to advance anywhere with their tanks. Yet, suddenly, Russian tanks were moving freely along the Crimean isthmus, through Chonhar and in the direction of Mariupol. They were moving like they were at a parade, no [obstacles]…

Well, that’s right, because there were those… But they had been removed, and so we ended up surrounded. That was it. There’s nowhere to expect help from. Later, when the “DPR” soldiers occupied our hospital building, we still heard what they were talking about. They came over from Makedonivka, a whole battalion. A battalion. And for two weeks, they stayed there, hiding in the wood lines.

Then, when Russians approached, they came out too. They went through Kyrova Square here, to the city’s Central District. It was a whole battalion. Then I don’t know... It was the one that captured us. And so this escalation broke out. It was no longer a front zone, but rather some hell.

We did not have any clue as to where, who, and how. Those mines exploded around the clock. Our doctors even said, “If I lie down for a few hours and mines don’t explode, I can’t doze off. Well, I’m just waiting for something to happen. And when those mines explode, I am calm. It’s on schedule, the shelling is going on.” In some places, those mines could not break through.

Those were the days in March. I finished an operation, and it was cold. March was cold. March was very cold then. Operating room… we put on everything we had. Well, what could we put on? Some sportswear, a sweater, and then only a sterile gown on top. It was still cold. I finished a difficult operation. We could not take the patient off the table right away.

The anaesthesiologist was still busy with the patient, extubating him. It took some time to find a free place and move the patient there. I realized that I had about half an hour. I was on the first floor, and there was no one around.

The first floor was a dangerous place to be, but I found some place in the corner. The staffroom. It was a small room with a sofa. Well, I thought, as I had about half an hour, I could go there and warm myself up a bit. Then, they would get the next patient ready, so I would go down and start the operation.

I plopped down on the sofa. The bed could not be unfolded. There was a blanket and I covered myself with it. Literally five minutes later, when I did not yet warm myself up, a mine burst. It felt like it hit the foundation. The mine exploded.

Everything shook, but the windows did not break. It was a strong explosion. Such explosions had not happened before. Usually, the building… Do you remember our building? We have some trees, some flower beds, and a mini-park there.

They [the mines] exploded there. Sometimes, they could explode on the roof. Yes, the roof was smashed, but it did not yet hit the building itself. I don’t know why, but I suddenly heard a voice in my head saying, “The next mine will fly in here”. I didn’t think about anything. I instantly jumped up.

No, I was rather thrown up. I didn’t get up myself – I was thrown up. I put on my shoes and ran out of the staffroom. We had the safest place near the entrance. There was not a single window there.

And as soon as I... literally some six meters from the staffroom… I sat down on the couch. The explosion occurred in the next ward, opposite the staffroom. Well, a 120 mm mine flew in, one hundred and twenty millimetres. It flew straight in.

Well, the one who prompted me was right indeed. It was flying to me in the staffroom, but through the ward, through the window. Something went wrong, and its tail caught on the window, on the top crossbar, and exploded.

Well, we saw what the consequence there was. Four partition walls, four wards, everything was smashed, the windows and the doors – everything was destroyed. And the door of the staffroom was opposite the door of that ward. All the doors were blown out. The window in the staffroom was blown out too. And the most important thing…

When I was sitting, the impact I felt from the explosion… I didn’t understand it, just the walls started moving like that. The ceiling fell on my head. Well, thank God it was not a concrete slab, but some light suspended ceiling. We had suspended ceilings. Well, it collapsed, but it was light.

Then, when everything calmed down, I realized that it was a mine that flew in. I went there to have a look. There was no blanket, no warm clothes left. Everything was swept away and thrown out through the window by the blast wave. I looked at the sofa, where I had been lying for five minutes. Three holes and three fragments. I looked and realized that it could be right on my chest, abdominal cavity, my stomach and legs.

I remember this thought. It flashed across my mind immediately. The first thought was not about the fact that a mine flew in. At first, I realized what kind of injuries I could have.

Well, I was on the first floor, and the intensive care unit was on the ground floor. And there was no one around at that moment. That’s referring to the topic of shock again.

Till they would find me, before they realize that I did not come back to the operating room, would the resuscitator be able to do something? As obviously, it would not be done without a resuscitator. I realized that no, that would be the end.

It would be the wound that... People do not survive with such a wound. It was at the time when we had an intense inflow of wounded patients and shelling, when the building of our hospital was hit by shelling. It was in early March. The situation was like this: there was no time, there was time just to perform an operation in order to save somebody.

Once one wounded patient leaves, the next one is placed on the operating table. We did several surgeries. Our surgical operation is a long one. We then rotated. Another crew came in because it was impossible to endure it.

My daughter left for Kyiv. And my wife remained at home, but she didn’t go out from our flat for health reasons. She had some problems. And I visited her every day. I visited her at certain time interval, usually before the curfew. I would run home, well, to cook some food. She stayed at home.

She was a doctor too. My wife was retired, and she had worked in our hospital all her life. On 20 March, before the curfew, I ran home and saw that seven 9-storey buildings from our yard were all on fire, including our house. Our house, all flats. It was fired at with grenades instantaneously.

Our neighbourhood used to be a quiet place, our yard was quiet. There were no military men there, there was nothing special. All the buildings remained intact for some time. After a while, all the houses were shot just in one hour. All the houses were set on fire, everything was burnt down.

If I had come home and had come inside a little earlier, I would not have been able to leave. Six residents of our house (the house consisted of two sections with separate entrances) died. A seven-year-old child died. When I came up, the child was lying in front of our entrance door.

My wife died. Unfortunately, she died. There was no chance. They hit... Ten rockets hit the house. They went completely crazy. Ten rockets... The floor collapsed, the ceiling underneath our flat collapsed.

All the flats collapsed, and a fire started immediately. I tried to go in there, to squeeze through – it was impossible. All the flats were on fire at the same time, and it was impossible to go upstairs. It was impossible to go up the staircase.

The temperature there was so high, that I would have burned to death there. It was in front of my eyes. I don’t know how I didn’t go mad then, or how anything else did not happen to me.

This is the first time I’m telling you this. Well, when I had the post-traumatic syndrome, I couldn’t recall it in my memory at all. I have recovered a little bit. I’m snapping out of the syndrome. I already know what to do and how to do it, as there is no medicine to help you recover, but there are some techniques. So this is the first time I’m telling you this.

I was able to bury her at Starokrymske cemetery. I even took the documents from those bastards, from the “DPR” people. They almost shot me.

Some forensic examination was done. I took a document. This is for the tribunal – a paper with stamps and signatures. It clearly certifies the diagnosis from which the person died.

All my senses were turned off. In conversations, we talked like zombies. Like a zombie. It actually explains well that human condition. How would we react to this in ordinary time, in peacetime? We would go mad, we would lose our consciousness. In wartime, it was turned off for me.

Do you understand what I mean? Speaking of response, well, we are doctors. We had studied human anatomy. We have been working with all this, especially surgeons. I dealt with dead bodies. I handled the dead. I have no sense of fear, I stayed alone with them. All those senses were turned off for me.

All this pain, you know. I had to deal with it every day, despite that mortar shelling, I had to visit my wife. I would run there. I don’t say “walk”, as I rather ran. I ran there, visited her and went back to work.

How can I explain it? I saw that the shelling attack was going on, and it would not stop (I knew that it continued around the clock). So, I still went out. “Oh, he is fearless”. No, there was really no fear or something like that. I would look around;

I understood this thing, those shelling attacks. I knew how they shelled, according to what principle. I watched where the next mine would fly. I didn’t walk in a straight line. I didn’t walk there. I would run to Engels Street, and there I chose which side….

Where I could wait until the mine lands, and then... I was caught by mortar shelling so many times on this road... Well, about a dozen times, I got in such situations, when I thought I wouldn’t get out of there, but God had mercy. I had no fear. Well, a mine could explode some 50 metres away from me. I’m not saying that I am a hero, no.

The situation was like this. A mine exploded on Engels Street, some 50 metres away from me. Luckily, there was a concrete slab lying there.

A house was destroyed there, and a slab fell on the road on Engels Street. It was about a metre high above the road. I heard that this mine was flying towards me, and I did not wait till it exploded. I was already falling to the ground. And when it exploded, I was protected by that slab.

I saw a flash of light, but there was no sound of an explosion yet. At first, there was a flash, and then the sound of an explosion followed, but I was already lying. I was lying on the pavement, protected by this slab.

And there were a lot of such cases. The body, its defence functions switched on. It was restored after I came here, to Ukraine. I began to recover gradually.

Mines flew in and hit the operating room. Everything was rendered inoperative, and we could not perform operations any more.

Thank God, the blockade had been lifted by that time, and we could go to hospital no. 2. As there had been a time when people came and said, “That’s all. There are checkpoints on Budivelnykiv Street, and nobody is allowed to go there. There is a front line there.”

This means the wounded would keep coming. We said, “We will be overwhelmed. We will be able to hold it out two more days. We don’t have resources, we don’t have anything.” And, to be honest, there were no skilled medical staff left by that time.

On 8 March, people still came to work, as usual, but on 9 March, they didn’t come, and some of them were not let through. Some people normally travelled from the region. We had some nurses, some hospital aides and doctors who lived on the Left Bank side of the city.

Then, only those who lived near the hospital, those whose flats were nearby, all of them came, because the city centre was still free. It was shelled, but by that time, there were no checkpoints.

We did not have surgeons and traumatologists any more. So, we stopped accepting the wounded. But then the blockade was lifted, and it was possible to get to hospital no. 2. We sent patients over there.

Then, a problem with the availability of diesel fuel occurred. We had a diesel-fuelled power generator, an autonomous power supply system. There was no more diesel fuel, and no one gave it to us.

The fuel was running out. We started to use it sparingly, turning the generator on for several hours, but it was impossible to work in such conditions. The generator should operate around the clock. So these problems basically ruined everything.

By that time, there was not a single window left intact. We had draughts, and it was cold. And the final blow for us was when a mine hit the operating room.

We did not perform operations, and we did not accept new wounded patients, but previous patients, seriously wounded cases, remained in our hospital. Those who had nowhere to go. There was an elderly man, a lying case, who said, “But I have nowhere to go. A rocket hit my house. I don’t have home any more, I’m alone.” An open bone fracture of the lower leg. Open fracture. That’s it, “I can’t....”

What could we do about it? Where could we take him? Such kind of patients remained in the hospital. And only two of us were left, the surgeon and me. With all those wounded.

They didn’t ask for anything. They knew that we did not have anything. If there was something, like a plate of some porridge, we would definitely share it and feed them. They knew it. Everyone remained composed and calm. You know, I could hardly bear it...

When I made a round, everyone looked me in the eyes, and it was such a look... Sometimes it broke through, and someone said, “Don’t leave us, doctor. We will die, we will just die here... No one will break through to come here.”

Indeed, we were right at the front line. The shelling was so intense that it was impossible to leave the building. The mortar mines kept landing. “We’ll just die.” – “Well, no.” I reassured them, “We will stay.” They said, “There are two of you left. God forbid, you decide to leave, and we will stay. That’s all.

Everyone who is here, we are all going to die.” That was not the turning point yet. The key factor was that by 17 April, the situation got a bit easier. The front line moved to Cheremushky.

First, near Ilyichivets sports complex, in stages. And then, it moved to Cheremushky. There were shelling attacks from time to time. They were not constant yet, but happened from time to time. It was possible to organize the evacuation.

We did it and transported the wounded to hospital no.2. Hospital building no. 17 was abandoned then. There were only those bastards, “DPR” troops. They occupied half of the building. I could leave with a clear conscience then. It was not my own initiative. I wouldn’t have left on my own will.

I stayed, and everything burned down. My documents burned down, my flat burned down, and my wife died.

My daughter took me out of there. I was leaving via Donetsk. I got to Ukraine, travelling through Europe. That’s how I got out of there. I could not get out this way. There was a feeling that we were abandoned, and there was no rescue, no escape from the surrounded city.

The city of Mariupol was burned before our very eyes. They deliberately destroyed all the houses and killed civilians. We realized how it could end. The city was surrounded, and all those things were happening inside the city before our eyes. I witnessed how the “DPR” soldiers opened heavy fire on Nakhimov Avenue, shooting at all the houses from a hand grenade launcher. I heard their conversations, “This five-storey building over here doesn’t catch fire. We have put all the other houses on fire, but this one does not burn. It is probably built from silicate bricks, a Khrushchev-era building.” It held it out. Mines landed there, they exploded, but the building did not catch fire.

They ran around with this grenade launcher. They kept shooting for several hours, probably, until they set it on fire. Those “DPR” soldiers were glad... Finally, they burned down the last one.

There was not a single house near our hospital building that would remain intact. Everything was burned. Was it necessary? For what? Somebody just gave a command to burn down the city. And we felt like we were abandoned. We did not know our fate then. It was 50 to 50.

Maybe Putin ordered to kill us all, and our authorities just abandoned us. It was hard both mentally and physically. Although, we had enough water. We had to use it sparingly, although we had one and a half tons of water.

That was for the operating room and for the wounded. Several times they refilled it (they slipped under fire), the city authorities. The Emergency Service staff helped us when we had an airstrike in our maternity hospital, when the bomb exploded. Pregnant women…

We couldn’t cope with it on our own, and everyone was sent to hospital no. 2. Those who could be sent… I personally gave medical aid to one pregnant woman. I stitched up her wound.

A huge lacerated wound on her lower leg. Our second surgeon sewed up a huge thigh wound under anaesthesia. Well, I know that we provided medical aid to them and sent them to hospital no. 2. The Emergency Service rescuers helped us, and the territorial defence fighters helped us too.

We will win. Victory will be ours. You can’t exterminate the whole nation. There has never been such an example in history. No empire has ever exterminated the people completely, the entire nation. This empire will fall apart and victory will be ours.

Everything will be fine, just after some time. It does not depend so much on us now. We already have everything: the best army, and we have weapons too. If they give us weapons, everything will be okay.

Maybe in the spring, and maybe not everything at once, and not Mariupol. Or maybe they will manage to liberate everything completely. When I was leaving, I had a feeling, you know, that I was crossed out of my life. I don’t have a home – they burned it down.

There is no house left – they destroyed it, and they killed my wife. I don’t have my work – there is no hospital, everything was destroyed. So, I was leaving with such a feeling that this was forever, that I would not ever return to Mariupol.

Well, where shall I go then? Then, gradually, I began to get out of my traumatic syndrome. It took me a couple of months. I have already recovered a little bit, and I even wanted to go to Mariupol. Housing is the issue. All our doctors’ flats burned down.

That’s a real nightmare. The flats of our surgeon, our anaesthesiologist, and our nurses (they lived in the centre of the city, not far from the hospital) all burned down. So, this question no longer bothered me.

I’ll come back and find some solution. Then, we will be restoring the hospital. And housing is less important... Take all the money from Russia and use it for construction and everything else. And we shall not feel sorry about it, as they did not feel sorry for us.

I’m not saying to kill someone, no. They did all this and they supported this monster. So, they need to be brought to account. To take all their money. Not just for some individuals, but for the state of Ukraine. For people, to build housing and everything else for people. I think everything will be fine. So it will be. It simply cannot be otherwise.