In the lives of 5 friends, Ukraine’s war story unfolds

In the cemetery where Oleksii Zavadskyi and Yurii Stiahliuk are buried, silence rents the air surrounding the women they loved: Anastasiia Okhrimenko and Anna Korostenska.

Oleksii and Yurii were killed on Ukraine’s eastern front five months apart. One was Vadym Okhrimenko’s best friend and died in his arms. “Gone, in an instant,” he says, briskly packing his combat uniform and gear. Soon he returns to the battlefield, heavy with sorrow, hungry for revenge.

The five had known each other since childhood. They came of age in Bucha, a Kyiv suburb now synonymous with the war’s most horrific atrocities. Their interwoven tales reveal how Russia’s invasion of Ukraine exactly one year ago changed their lives, their neighbourhood, their country.

“This war is not just about soldiers,” says Anna. “It’s about everyone connected to them, and their pain.”

With each passing month, sedimentary layers of grief formed: violent occupations followed by tearful separations and interminable waiting. Between chaotic frontlines where victory turned to attrition and homes assailed with constant air raids and power cuts, love blossomed, friendships deepened and the fear of death burrowed in.

As the conflict that killed their loved ones still rages on, Anna, Anastasiia and her brother, Vadym wrestle with a question that all of war-torn Ukraine must grapple with: After loss, what comes next?

In Bucha, familiar childhood landmarks are imbued with a new, dark history.

There is the building behind the playground where dozens took shelter from the approaching Russian troops; the garages where Russian soldiers burned to death those sheltering inside; the supermarket, from where the funeral processions now start.

The occupation, which lasted 33 days from the start of the invasion on Feb. 24 to April 1, when Russian troops withdrew, became a potent symbol of the war’s horrors. Liberation revealed the mass murder of civilians and cruel accounts of rape. More than 450 people were killed, according to local authorities.

Anastasiia fled the area for another. Anna remained in Bucha until March 10. She spent nights in the shelter as Russian tanks rolled past her neighbourhood of Sklozavod, soldiers ransacked shops and ran over a man sitting in a car. All this, she witnessed.

“We are still processing,” says Andrii Holovyn, 50, the community’s priest, who presided over Yurii’s funeral and those of countless other soldiers after him. “People are living in constant danger, without light, with no breaks in between.”

The occupation propelled the childhood friends to act. Oleksii’s mother and sister escaped to Germany. Vadym’s wife fled to the Czech Republic. Yurii asked Anastasiia to leave her job and stay at home.

They were very different, the three men. Yurii had an aura of eternal youth, the kind of guy who smiled broadly even when enraged. Oleksii was a brawler, a rebel on the outside but intensely introverted. Vadym, a terse, self-described “football hooligan,” was their leader.

Stirred by the massacre in their hometown, they joined the army in the spring of 2022. No one could afford to fold their arms and watch the war happen, said Vadym.

This was the moment Anastasiia chose to propose marriage to Yurii.

It was her way of telling him he could count on her to wait for him. They had been together for seven years, a relationship sparked the day that Yurii, the boy she had met as a child and known only as her brother’s friend, reappeared in her life with an innocuous greeting on social media.

“I realized that he was the only person with whom I could imagine my future,” she says.

It was a no-frills ceremony. Papers were signed, rings exchanged. But future plans were elaborate. “First, we had to win this war,” Anastasiia says, twirling her wedding band around her finger. “Probably the first thing we would do after is go on a honeymoon.”

Yurii arrived in the eastern city of Kramatorsk in July, heading toward the salt-mining town of Bakhmut, a fierce battlefront that would turn out to be the war’s longest. Says Anastasiia: “I lived from call to call.”

Through him, she bore witness to the hellscape that was the war.

Russia had shifted tactics, withdrawing troops from the north after fierce Ukrainian resistance and focusing on what Moscow described as the “liberation” of the contested Donbas region.

His correspondence with Anastasiia over six months revealed his unit was constantly on the move. The shelling and artillery battles were relentless, he told her. After one night of extensive bombardment, he texted, “I will definitely return,” with an emoji blowing a heart-shaped kiss.

In August, he complained that the enemy had more advanced weapons while they had to make do with automatic guns. Helpless, they spent hours hiding in the trenches.

The night before Ukraine’s Independence Day on Aug. 25, Yurii said he expected the Russians would mark the occasion with missiles. He made her promise to sleep in the corridor, away from windows.

He returned to the front later. When the shelling ceased for a moment, Yurii made a dash for the car, thinking he had just enough time as the enemy reloaded weapons.

Then the shooting started again. It was Vadym, not Yurii, who called Anastasiia that morning. He had bad news from the Military Commissariat. “Tell me it’s not true,” reads the last text message she sent her husband. “I’m begging you, tell me you’re alive.”

September was a turning point.

Ukraine launched surprise counter-offensives in the northern and southern regions, denting the image of Russia’s military might. Kyiv was encouraged to seek more arms from the hesitant West to sustain the fight, and Oleksii finally summoned the courage to tell Anna he loved her for the first time.

Theirs was an affair only the two of them understood, one in which moments of affection could quickly devolve into thunderous arguments.

Oleksii was Anna’s first love at 15, but there was no relationship to speak of until Yurii’s death. That changed him. Oleksii revealed he had loved her his entire life but had stayed away because she had been with one of his friends. Now he didn’t care anymore.

“Yurii’s death pushed us to accept the fact that you can do anything in this life while you are still alive,” Anna says.

After Yurii’s funeral, Anna planned to spend the night with Anastasiia to comfort her grieving friend. Oleksii, who had taken leave to attend the burial, walked her to the door. After, he called her almost every day.

Associated Press