“I do not know how we managed to escape from captivity. This is just a miracle”

They nearly died from fire in the cellar, and when it became completely unbearable to stay in Mariupol, the family left on an old Zhiguli car. At the checkpoint, Olena Perkova and her sister were searched. Photos of the destroyed city, some earlier photos of them wearing vyshyvankas (Ukrainian traditional embroidered shirts), and some posts with patriotic content were found in their phones. They had their hands tied and were put in the basement. A long interrogation followed. The sisters prayed. They miraculously managed to pass the filtration and escape.

Interview transcript

On 24 February, I went to my work as usual. I work as a nurse in the ninth municipal hospital of Mariupol. We heard some fire shots, but I could not even understand what was going on. Later, when our work team gathered, we learned that the war had begun and that some people had already been wounded and killed in Pokrovske village. We were simply horrified and believed that it was all for a short time and that a little later it would all be over.

Our windows overlook an area towards the city’s left-bank district. So, at night we were in our beds and saw those reflections of Grad rocket launchers. We were just horrified. The left-bank district was hit by shellfire.

In the first days, we still had electricity, gas and water. On 25-26 February, it was quiet in Prymorskyi district, but then our electricity and water supply were cut off. When shelling reached our district, we shut off the gas valve at home, because there were some explosions. Our house was the first one on our street to burn down.

On 9 March, at around 11 o’clock, shelling on Primorye district began, and we quickly dashed down into the cellar. Our father was thrown by a shock wave, but he was not injured. The door was simply torn out, and even the fridge [was moved].

We hid in the cellar. Then our neighbours came and said that the roof of our house was on fire. Dad rushed to put out the fire. Cheryomushki micro-district was also on fire, but firefighters could not be found. They were running here and there and tried to do something, but there were not enough fire engines.

Somebody gave our dad two fire extinguishers and he climbed up to the attic. He nearly died from the fire smoke poisoning and barely crawled out of there alive. In my naivety, I also tried to extinguish the fire. I splashed some water and threw some sand on it. Our neighbours helped us too and the fire seemed to be put out.

People told us to take out what we could. We took out two mattresses, a couple of T-shirts, and a minimum number of other things. We thought that the house would not burn further, but at night, it caught fire.

We are thankful to our neighbours, an old lady, who gave lodging to our parents. Our dad was given some medical aid. He coughed up some black [mucus]. There was nobody to offer us any lodging, so we settled in a container. We spent a night there (it was minus 10 degrees outside), laying and shaking from the cold. I thought everything around was wiped off and dead because the explosions were very strong.

On 10 March, the micro-district was still alive and some volunteers even brought some bread from Zaporizhzhia once. A lot of people gathered. There were about a hundred people and mortar shelling began, but they [the Russian army] did not aim at us. They targeted some buildings selectively. The house of our friend (godfather of our child) was hit, and the next day their family left for the village some 20 kilometres away from Mariupol.

We were lucky as our neighbours left the city and left their big house empty. There was a big basement, just like a bunker, and there was a garage above it. So, we settled in the garage, and then the owner came. He was still in Mariupol. He allowed us to live there and guard the house.

Then my family and I settled down there. We had a dog and three cats with us. It was cold and scary at night. There were shelling attacks… We kept a small lamp burning and our dad made a toilet from a chair and a bucket. Basically, that is how we lived. My cousin has a house nearby. She lived there together with my aunt.

There was a military bunker (earth and timber emplacement) in Primorye where our acquaintances [Ukrainian military] were staying. My sister ran there and talked to them. We hoped until the very end that our [Ukrainian] forces would come, or maybe there would be negotiations.

Until 10 March, we hoped that help would come to our guys and we would be liberated. She [my sister] said, “From 31 March on, stay in the basement and do not go out.”

We stayed in the basement. On 1 May, our micro-district came under terrible shelling. Since 31 March, we did not go out at all and it was a feat for us to go out and empty that bucket. We had 20 litres of water, which we managed to get at the end of March. My mum has sick kidneys and she needs to drink quite often. I told mum only to moisten her lips, because there was not enough water. And I did not know how long we were going to be here. Then we used some rain [water].

On 2 April, we were in the basement. Then our military guys told us later that they [the Russian army] went to the roof of our ninth municipal hospital and shelled our whole street. I do not know with what sort of weapons.

We looked out – there was nothing left intact on the street, the neighbouring street was also bombed, and our friend’s house burned down. There were still some people, neighbours, who hoped...

We prayed, we lived only by prayers. Neighbours were waiting for help from our military. On 7 April, they [the Russian military] dropped some firebombs – everything was on fire and we thought we would die. It was just like an apocalypse. Everything was on fire in our street and black smoke was pouring around.

Cheryomushki micro-district was on fire too, and on 12 April, the DPR soldiers came and knocked on the door. We shouted, “We are civilians here!” They came in and checked the basement for the military. They started running around like locusts, opening all the gates and knocking down the fences.

They moved back and forth, checking, “That is alright, we have entered the area, everything will be fine. You can come out and cook some meals.” We said that we would stay inside still – we were making some oatmeal. We tried to eat something. Our parents are old, my mother is 77 years old and she does not even understand what is happening. When the shelling ended, dad said, “I will go and talk to them about what shall we do.” They said, “Leave.”

We had an old Zhiguli car that was not running. Dad fixed it and we decided to leave Mariupol on 16 April. Everything was damaged; the car was hit by shell fragments. We had not left Mariupol yet, but our passports were checked.

My mother is from Khmelnytskyi region and this fact got their attention, so they found our fault. We explained, “She left that region 50 years ago.”

We drove out of Mariupol and were stopped at the checkpoint. People at the checkpoint started checking us. We were quite naïve as our phones had not been charged for two months, but they charged them.

My sister had shot a video of our house on fire and signed it: “The Russian world has come here.” They found this video; they found some photos of us in vyshyvankas (embroidered shirts). The national anthem of Ukraine was in my dad’s phone. They [our parents] were just shaking. A medical vehicle was called and some girls came. They examined us for tattoos.

My sister and I had our hands tied with bundle ties – we were in a state of shock. They took us to Mangush. For two hours, they were giving us the works there. Our poor dad. He was also detained for his phone. We said, “Forgive us.”

First, some young man interrogated us, and then we were also interrogated by some other people. Our phones again. I have some military whom I follow on Facebook, and then the national anthem again – my sister and I were taken to some basement.

We were lucky as they put us on a sofa. There was a cell next to us with their local drunks inside it. Another cell two by two. There were about 13 people there, military men, young soldiers, who were all stuffed there. They were not given any water. We asked what would happen to us next. The young guy took pity on us. He said we would be taken to Dokuchaevsk for interrogation.

Thanks to him, we were allowed to go to the toilet, and he allowed us to come up to our parents for a minute. We told them that we were going to be taken to Dokuchaevsk. Our money was stolen when in the basement.

We went and checked. We had 2,500 hryvnias in cash. Our packs with medicines/pills were open and thrown on the floor, and we checked the wallet – it turned out that the money was stolen. We had no money left. We also had taken a multi-cooker and pans with us. Our dad managed to sell them on the market.

We were on the way to Dokuchaevsk in a prisoner van. The military prisoners were tossed toughly and treated badly all the time. They were given a bad time; they were mocked and laughed at. We were told that we were taken to the Skulls. That was probably the name of their prison. They brought us there, about 140 kilometres away.

They took us to a cell where there were two more girls, but then they were taken away. We were just sitting and praying in that prison. It was scary. “Can I visit the toilet?”, “No, stay seated.” We were taken to the toilet at six in the morning and at nine in the evening. However, they took pity on us.

My sister asked if there was something to eat. We had a Snickers chocolate bar and so we ate it. He took pity on us and gave us some bread. We prayed, “Daddy, come and get us out!”

We were told [that] we would be interrogated and let go. The prisoners of war were beaten hard. One [soldier of the occupying army] could not say even a word in Russian. They said, “Palianytsia (the name of a Ukrainian bread and the word often used as shibboleth) is a vulgar tongue.” They battered them [the Ukrainian soldiers] really hard...

The Lord spared us. The next day their top chief left. They were all young, about 25 years old. My sister was crying. We were taken out for interrogation, me first. Same questions... then they saw that I had some military as friends – that was it, a connection with Azov.

Well, I started begging them. I asked to forgive us, that kind of thing. It is just horrible what they have in their minds: “You fired at us, you attacked us, and you bombed us.” We, Ukraine, attacked them, and they are saving us. They “saved” me from my home, from my work, from holiday travels. “We are helping you, and you are such bastards, terrorists.” That is beyond my comprehension. But we kept begging, and they said “okay”.

I will not describe any terrible things. Then they began to grill my sister. She was told, “We will let you go, but your sister will stay. She has a connection with Azov and they are terrorists.” Well, but we were pardoned, thank God.

They found pills in my sister’s pockets. She said that she had a heart defect and she had to take her pills. They said that they would let us go and stamped our papers. Filtration was passed, as if in Nazi camps.

We went out to the square in Dokuchaevsk, where the monument was wrapped in some bags. Taras Shevchenko was probably also a terrorist, according to them. We went out and did not find our parents there. We did not know what to do.

Then our dad came and burst into tears. He looked much slimmer. He did not sleep for three nights and his nerves were on edge. He replaced the window (or windshield) in the car.

Our mum did not understand what was happening. She was stricken by horror, by fear, [how] to save the girls? He [father] found us. He was told that a stamp on papers was needed from the military prosecutor’s office in Starobeshevo. We went there and found the prosecutor’s office. They put a stamp on our papers and we came back to Mangush.

Our dad is a hero. I do not know how he survived it. Then my friends called me and said there was a “green corridor”. We rushed; we went on our own. We passed four checkpoints along the highway, but at the fifth checkpoint, they told us, “You should go back.” Our dad started crying, “Let us go!” They answered negatively, so we returned.

Then it was Easter. We stayed with these people, who fed and soothed us. The next day we went with their friends. In Orekhovo, we were told to return. We were told that we could not go through, as there was active fighting there. We again returned to these people, and the next day a convoy gathered. There is no “green corridor”, people just gather out of desperation.

Our dad said, “I will not go by the field roads.” He was afraid of land mines. There were about twenty cars, and all the way, he said that we would not make it there. We prayed. Kostiantyn went first and he took us out of there. Some terrible military equipment, huge machines, were heading towards us.

At around one o’clock in the afternoon, we entered Zaporizhzhia, and when I saw the Ukrainian flag, I just had a nerve storm. Kostiantyn also said, “We got out of the car and started kissing the ground.” My sister said, “Do not cry, you make mum upset.” But I could not calm myself down.

At our tire repair shop, we had a young guy with his wife. Their house on Nakhimov avenue had been bombed and they moved to this tire station. He said they were going to settle there. The military came to him to have their car tires repaired and he said, “I work for food.”

On 6 April, mortar shelling began and they did not hide in time. His wife Alla came crying, “Vlad had half of his face torn off!” He went to the military and they gave him some first aid. He turned just black. They ran to the Emergency Service’s office and he was bandaged there. And then he just left. Poor Alla was running around and looking for him. I do not know, I think he died, because the only medical aid he received was that he was just bandaged, and that was it. Our sister disappeared.

They [the Russian army] bombed the Emergency Service’s office and the fire station on 6 and 7 April, and I do not know what happened to them. On 16 April, we went out to find them and saw that there was no district left. Everything was black.

There was no Cheryomushki micro-district left, just an apocalypse, just horror, everything was damaged. Torn electricity lines. People walked around in shock. We were looking for some people we knew. We went to our acquaintances who were not going to leave, our dad’s friends. Their houses were destroyed. There was no telephone signal. Neighbours, who supposedly did not plan to leave, just disappeared.

On 16 April, we were looking for my sister. We asked about the fate of people who were at the fire station, but no one knew what happened to them. We were told that on 7 April, there was a mortar attack on this fire station and they were told, “Run away, wherever you want”, but her leg was shot. Where could she run?

Until 10 April, we believed that help would come to Mariupol, but it was 12 April and help did not come. They [the Russian army] entered the city. There is no Mariupol. This is terrible. We believed until the very end...

Dad did not want to leave the city categorically. He said, “I will leave when the DPR flags are here.” We asked him, we begged him. We could not leave him, and my mum also said, “We will be together.” He did not want to leave categorically. Only when Russians entered. There was nothing left intact here. There were heaps of dead bodies. We walked through the village of Kirovka, and dead people were just lying around in the yards. This was real horror. There was no village left, there was no street left.

We said goodbye to the Berdyansk Sea. I took some seashells as a keepsake. Our whole life... We used to plan attending Neptune swimming pool. A nice, beautiful city. Parks, the house that my parents built all their lives... We were leaving.

My sister was just weeping. We did not want to further upset our parents. Our mum did not understand. She was staying in Berdyansk, saying that we would be bombed. She stayed in the basement at night and just screamed, “We will be rescued. They know where we are!” She kept saying, “Let us get out.” And it was night-time outside. We calmed her down, begged her just to have some rest.

I do not know how we survived. With help of prayers... We prayed incessantly. The Lord’s Prayer and other prayers too. I do not know how our nervous systems, our minds endured it all. I just do not know.