Freedom in the Reeds: How a Kherson Local Fought the Occupiers by Boat and Saved Dozens of Lives
Late summer 2022, Kherson Oblast. The banks of the Dnipro River. Evening falls, tree shadows stretch across the sand, and footprints mark the beach. These footprints are what the police stumbled upon. Nearby, they found a boat — and a few dead bodies. Judging by the bloated flesh, the blue tint of the skin, and the strands of riverweed caught between their fingers, the bodies had been lying in the shallow waters near the shore for several days.
There was no panic, no commotion. The forensics team documented the scene, took photos of the bodies, and filled out crime scene reports. The police recognized the dead men — they were local fishermen and environmentalists who had been using the river to transport humanitarian aid from Mykolaiv Oblast into Russian-occupied territory. There were no signs of violence. No visible wounds. It looked like they had drowned — an unfortunate accident on the water.
The families were notified. The mother of one of the deceased rushed home from Italy. At the morgue, she identified her son. After having buried him, still wearing her mourning veil, she returned to her life somewhere near Florence — as far away as possible from the war, from the loss of her only child, from the cold, dark river.
Did you believe this story? So did the Russians. So did the media. Even the families of the “dead” believed it. But in reality, none of it was true.
It was all an elaborate staged death, as revealed by one of the “corpses” himself. Thanks to this cover story, he survived — and he lived to share even more unbelievable stories with us.
How did he and his comrades from the Special Operations Forces spend months operating behind enemy lines? How did they engage in battles with the occupiers? How much enemy equipment did they destroy? How many people did they save?
From Closed Recruitment Offices to a Machine Gun in Hand
On the night of February 24, explosions shook Kherson. They jolted Andrii* awake in his home. The blasts were coming from the Chornobaivka area. He knew instantly — Russia had attacked. He grabbed his phone, scrolled through the news, and called his wife, family, and colleagues. Helicopters roared overhead. His mother’s voice trembled over the phone:
"Maybe… maybe those are ours?"
"What’s painted on them?" Andrii asked.
"Stars."
"Then they’re not ours. They’re Russians."
"Oh God… I’ve already counted fifty of them!"
At sunrise, Andrii was already standing in front of the military recruitment office. It was closed. A crowd of men had gathered outside, waiting for the officers to arrive, to hand them weapons, to give them orders — to organize the defense of Kherson.
Andrii suggests they stop waiting and start acting. They bang on the doors, try to break them down. An officer runs out of the building, shouting that there are no soldiers or weapons inside. So Andrii and the group of men rush to the regional military recruitment office. But it’s locked too.
That’s when they decided to take matters into their own hands. They called their contacts and coordinated their actions.
As an experienced activist, Andrii took charge. He sent some men by car to Antonivskyi Bridge, others to Beryslav Highway, and another group to a different location. Each team was assigned to observe and report the movements of Russian forces and military equipment.
Meanwhile, a group from Bilozerka blocked the road with concrete and fallen trees to stop Russian vehicles from advancing. For several days, they held their positions, while Russian troops remained on the outskirts of the city near Antonivskyi Bridge.
On the third day, the occupiers began pushing into the city in slow-moving convoys in two directions. They advanced in short bursts — moving a few kilometers at a time, stopping, scouting the area, and then pressing forward. By early March, they reached the city center and took control of all government buildings.
It was around this time that Andrii got a call.
His uncle had been killed. He had joined territorial defense, despite his family’s pleas for him to stay out of it. Two Russian BTRs had ambushed their group, and they fought back. They took cover in Lilac Park, armed only with rifles. But the Russians opened fire from their armored vehicles, using high-caliber rounds. Nearly all of the territorial defense fighters — around 20 men — were killed.
Shortly after the battle, Andrii drove through the area and saw heads blown apart by gunfire.
In the first days of the occupation, Andrii focused on gathering intelligence. Looting was rampant — stores, public buildings, everything was being ransacked. And the police were practically gone. To restore order, Andrii and his colleagues formed a civil defense group. They recruited about 200 people, divided them into teams of five to ten, assigned them to different districts, created an internal communication channel, and devised a strategy. The groups patrol their assigned areas, respond to reports from citizens, and detain offenders and looters. Their only weapons? Batons.
In early March, Andrii helped organize the first protests. He started calling friends:
"Look, we don’t have weapons. But we have to do something. We have to throw a wrench in the occupiers’ plans — in any way we can!"
And sure enough, people started gathering in the square. Day by day, the crowds grew. They sang Ukrainian songs, chanted patriotic slogans, and held pro-Ukrainian banners in front of Russian soldiers in tanks.
Then one day, the Russians started firing into the air. They blasted propaganda songs from loudspeakers, trying to drown out the protesters. They beat people with rifle butts. A few weeks later, Rosgvardiya arrived. They escalated the crackdown — pushing back the crowds, shooting protesters with rubber bullets, spraying them with tear gas, and throwing stun grenades. People ran, stumbled, fell. Some were arrested and taken for interrogations.
Andrii’s friends warned him that he’d already been marked for organizing the protests and that he needed to lay low.
He understood — the protests had run their course. At that point, it became more important to focus on the war because a real war was raging all around. Andrii had combat experience — he had fought in Nagorno-Karabakh, served in the army and SBU, and had a background in boxing.
His contacts told him about weapons caches hidden by SBU officers before they abandoned the city. Andrii and his team dug them up. Inside, they found dozens of rifles, machine guns, grenades, and pistols. Now, they were armed.
The First Run Through the Estuary and the First Battle
At some point, Andrii comes up with a plan to escape to Ukrainian-controlled territory — by water. All other routes are blocked: roads are mined, cars are being blown up, and civilians are either turned back, subjected to brutal inspections, or outright shot.
At first, he hears about people attempting to flee by crossing the Dnipro River in two boats. But at the exit point, Russian forces spotted them, fired warning shots into the air, and ordered them to turn back or be killed. The organizers were a father and son who had been making money smuggling people across for $500 per head. The Russians captured them, locked them in a basement, tortured them for a week, and then let them go.
Andrii meets these two men, asking them about every detail. But he already knows most of it himself — he has extensive experience of working on the river. He grew up in a family of fishermen. Since childhood, back in the late 1970s, he had been sailing along the Dnipro, learning every narrowest waterway and channel in the reeds. He’s worked as an environmental inspector, a water resource activist, and a forestry specialist.
The only thing that really mattered to him was understanding where and when the Russians might spot him. Andrii quickly realizes the occupiers still don’t have full control over the waterway.
Before long, a Ukrainian soldier — one of Andrii’s regular contacts — asks him if he can evacuate some troops to Mykolaiv.
Andrii agrees. But first, he insists, he and his partner will evacuate his mother, two aunts, and nephew.
His mother, however, is reluctant to leave.
"Maybe things will settle down?" she asks.
"Mom, they won’t," Andrii tells her. "I’m on their list. And that means they’ll be looking for all of you too."
So, at the end of March, the five of them set out at night on a boat along the Dnipro. Before leaving, they modify the boat, installing sound and heat suppression systems. Andrii also coordinates with Ukrainian border guards in advance, making sure a Ukrainian boat will be waiting for them at the designated pickup point.
They move at low speed, first navigating through the reed-filled marshes in the darkness. Then, they reach open water — the Dnipro estuary. Everything feels different now. In peacetime, the lighthouses would be there to guide them. Now, they’re dark and no shoreline coordinates are visible. Andrii has to rely on a stargazing app to navigate. He follows the stars.
For most of the journey, the Dnipro’s banks — stretching from Oleksandrivka to Heroiske — are lined with Russian artillery and patrols. To stay out of sight, Andrii keeps to the middle of the estuary, staying seven kilometers from either shore. In narrower sections, they do the opposite — hugging the banks to avoid the open water.
They sail all night.
They sail for seven hours.
They cover about 40 kilometers.
Their route takes them from Kizomys in Kherson Oblast to Luparieve in Mykolaiv Oblast — where Ukrainian soil is free once again.
Andrii turns to his nephew:
"Look, see that light in the distance? Those are our border guards. We’re lmost there."
Finally, they make it to safety — they land on free territory.
But Andrii returns to the occupied zone. The moment they step ashore, he says:
"I'm getting back in the boat and heading back. I have to, I must. There's still a ton of work waiting for me there. I promised to get the soldiers out."
These were the troops who had never received orders in the first days of the invasion. Their commanders had left them in limbo, so they acted on their own.
Some stayed at their posts and fought — they were either killed or captured.
Some hid and disguised themselves, spending weeks in apartments, houses, basements, and islands. Some, from the left bank in Oleshky, swam across the river to Kherson. They sent messages to their commanders, reporting their locations, and begging for evacuation. That’s how, after a few contacts and calls, one of the officers reached out to Andrii with a proposal to evacuate those guys from the occupied territory.
To make the operation possible, they needed fuel. But they had no money. So Andrii and his team started fishing in the marshes. Some of the catch they ate, some they gave to the soldiers, and the rest they sold — using the money to buy fuel. Every fishing trip was armed. For safety.
During one of the night trips, a fight breaks out. Andrii and his partner are setting nets on Lake Chervone. Suddenly, a boat emerges through the reeds nearby. They spot our guys and move closer. It’s three Russian soldiers and a collaborator in a balaclava.
"Who are you? What are you doing?" one of them demands.
"I’m an ecologist," Andrii says. "We just set some nets — hoping to catch some fish."
"Ecologist, huh? Hands up!"
"Relax, we’re just fishing."
"I SAID HANDS UP!"
The standoff reaches a breaking point.
Andrii and his partner have weapons in their boat. Surrendering is not an option.
They had agreed in advance on how to act in such a case, modeling different scenarios. They would get into boats, take their rifles, determine nonverbal signals and commands, and assess what to do in each situation. Everyone had to understand that they could be killed, drowned, or tortured.
So, in this situation on the lake, they make a decision quickly. Andrii gives his comrade a signal. Fire to kill. They swiftly grab their rifles, open fire, and throw a grenade. The occupiers try to react — one reaches for his weapon, another jumps into the water. But the Russians don’t manage to escape. The gunfire dies down. All the occupiers are shot and dead.
"We did everything right," Andrii says to his partner. "We couldn’t give them a chance. Any unnecessary movement on the water, and they would have spotted us — we could have ended up at the bottom of the river. And what were we supposed to do if they didn’t get that we were just ‘ecologists’?"
The night stretches long — they have to pull the boat with the bodies onto the shore of an island, hide it, and bury the dead. The most important thing is to make sure no one finds the bullet-riddled bodies.
Dozens of Lives Saved
Eventually, Andrii begins evacuating soldiers. He and his partner operate according to a set plan: at night, they transport fighters from the Dnipro Estuary to Buzkyi and, right on the water, hand them over to a large border guard boat arriving from Ochakiv. On the return trip, they bring back supplies and fuel.
The men make several runs. The boat is overloaded every time — six soldiers plus two navigators. Any sudden movement or a high wave cause the boat to sink.
Andrii realizes they need a more suitable boat. To find one, he and his team conduct a nighttime reconnaissance mission in the Dnipro Delta, heading to an area with hotels, restaurants, boat rentals, and campgrounds. There should be boats there.
When they arrive, they see that the Russians have already taken over the place. They sit on the shore, drinking looted alcohol, with guards patrolling the area.
Andrii spots a suitable boat — a Finval 505 FishPro with a powerful engine. They decide they need to take it. The four of them move in, waiting for the right moment — when the Russians are drunk enough. Then they rush to the boat, wire cutters in hand, and cut the tether.
The boat is sitting on a wheeled trailer, making it easy to roll into the water. They do just that. But the moment it hits, it makes a loud splash.
"That’s it!" Andrii hisses. "There's gonna be a fight. Grab your guns!"
But they got lucky — the Russians didn’t hear a thing. They can leave. The team now has a solid boat.
Andrii completes at least ten more missions. For weeks, he evacuates soldiers from different locations in occupied territory. In total, he rescues about 50 people, most of them officers. Some are wounded.
The wounded are the hardest. Every wave slamming against the boat sends pain through their bodies. Painkillers aren’t an option in these conditions. So, as they make their way across the water, they endure.
Andrii knows the river’s terrain like the back of his hand. He is familiar with countless hidden inlets and channels, places almost no one else knows. He knows the spots where he and the soldiers can wait until nightfall before setting out. His group even has informants among poachers — men who work for the Russians but secretly tip Andrii off about enemy movements and whether certain routes are clear. These tips are especially valuable when Andrii is making the return trip from Mykolaiv to Kherson. In those cases, he can’t scout ahead himself — he has to sail in blind.
Each mission is carried out with meticulous preparation and extreme caution. They evacuate the soldiers in total silence. During the day, they scout the area with binoculars. In some places, they row instead of using the engine, pushing off the shore with oars.
With each passing week, the nights grow shorter, cutting down the time available for these operations. The risk of discovery rises. By mid-May, Andrii had evacuated everyone he set out to rescue.
The last trip brings out two chaplains. One of them had spent over a month hiding in a basement after escaping from the occupiers. He smells awful, he’s exhausted and scared. His fellow priest, the one he had served with, had been tortured by the Russians, raped with a stick, and ultimately killed.
Persecution, His Wife’s Abduction, and "Death"
After the final rescue mission, Andrii and his team stay in Mykolaiv for a few weeks. They undergo medical checks and officially join the Ukrainian Armed Forces, enlisting in the Special Operations Forces.
During this time, Andrii gets to know Mykhailo*, a new addition to their team. They had crossed paths before while working in fishery inspections but now they are fighting side by side. Mykhailo is a man with a fighting spirit, a strong character, and considerable experience. Andrii can spot men like him from afar — their eyes burn with intensity, they are daredevils, ready to tear the enemy apart. But at the same time, he is a calculated and experienced warrior.
By late May, Andrii’s team is no longer running volunteer missions — they are now carrying out combat operations.
The first mission is the opposite of their previous ones: instead of smuggling troops out of the occupied territory, they now have to infiltrate Ukrainian soldiers into it. The team consists of two professional soldiers, a paratrooper, Mykhailo, Andrii, and his longtime partner from the first evacuation missions.
The soldiers are fully armed, carrying a significant arsenal to stash in a hidden cache. But they don’t make it to the designated drop-off point in time. They decide to land in the reeds near the village of Kizomys, where Andrii’s younger brother still lives.
Before the war, this house had been a tourist retreat — a place where visitors could rent rooms and boats, go fishing and have fun. Everything was booked online or via phone calls. Now, they decide to use the same cover story — but this time, to smuggle weapons.
The "fishermen" call up the place, rent the house, settle in, cast their fishing rods, and fry up their catch. Meanwhile, Andrii searches for a safer location deeper in Kherson Oblast to move the soldiers and their weapons. Eventually, he relocates them closer to Kherson itself, then heads back to Mykolaiv to finalize his enlistment.
The group spends about a month at the safe house, feeding intelligence to the military — on collaborators, troop movements, and enemy equipment numbers.
Upon returning to Kherson, Andrii and his group are assigned various tasks. They discuss them on-site, plan, and execute. One such task is tracking an FSB colonel who arrived with his family. They install hidden cameras and set up stash points in the building's stairwells. One of their men even gets a job as an elevator operator in the colonel’s apartment block, stealing the keys and passing them to his comrades.
Andrii himself tries to infiltrate the regional occupation administration. He meets with officials, negotiates for a job, agrees to take a polygraph test, and fabricates a cover story about wanting to work "for the benefit of Russia." He plays the role of a former activist whose only fight was against poachers, claiming he has always been pro-Russian. But the plan falls apart. Two of his comrades are captured.
"What?! He sold us out?! My brother-in-arms? The one I’d been smuggling people out with from the very beginning?!" Andrii is furious when he finds out who betrayed them. "That means they know not just about the two they caught, but about our entire group."
That's it, I have to work alone. Even if it gets tough, I won’t look for new partners. It’s better to turn them down — because a partner must be trusted like yourself. No one can know what I’m doing — not even my wife and kids."
He realizes that his captured comrades know everything — their safe houses, caches, contacts. He relocates his wife, Olena*, and their son, Yurii*, to a different apartment. Then, he and his partner escape by boat to Mykolaiv. Mykhailo refuses to leave.
That’s when Andrii gets the call — his wife has been captured. The Russians had waited until she turned on the lights, stormed the apartment, and abducted her. As well, they looted everything of value.
What to do? Andrii makes a few calls, finds out who’s handling his wife’s case, and then reaches out to his relatives in Moscow. He has them call the investigator from Russian numbers and threaten him. He specifies what to say, how to make the threats, and on whose behalf the conversation should be conducted. The relatives call the investigator, introducing themselves as the Moscow branch of the FSB. They inquire about Olena, interrogating him on what happened, why, and who detained her. They threaten that by morning, the FSB will come to the prosecutor’s office and conduct an additional examination of the woman for any bodily injuries. And so on, according to the agreed-upon plan.
The investigator falls for Andrii's relatives' bluff and asks where they got his number. They reply, "What you should know is that if we can get your number, we can do much more." The investigator visibly panics and agrees to cooperate. Soon, Olena is brought to him, and he allows her to speak with her husband via video call.
After the call, Andrii's relatives contact him. They confirm that his wife is alive, she hasn’t been beaten, but her captors want to exchange her for him. They say the occupiers are desperate to capture him, accusing him of smuggling in so many weapons and sabotage units that they could open a "second Ukrainian front." They claim there’s a two-million-ruble bounty on him and his comrades and that their photos are all over Kherson, and even listed on Wagner-affiliated websites. They also warn that the Russians want to capture his son and "rip out his nails."
Andrii and his comrades spend the entire night debating their options. They go over dozens of possibilities until an idea comes up — he needs to "die." If Andrii is declared dead, Olena will be released, and no one would be after him anymore.
The plan is set in motion. The partisans head to the banks of the Dnipro, paint themselves blue, lie on boats, and stage a scene of drowned corpses. They take photos of their "bodies" and documents that, according to the legend, were found with them. They craft a narrative: Andrii’s mother supposedly identified his body, buried him, and then left the country, making it impossible for the SBU to verify anything. No one knows where he is buried.
They then spread this "news" through the media, social networks, and even the police. Reports of Andrii’s death spread quickly, picked up by various media outlets.
Almost no one knows the truth. Only a handful of people in the police and Andrii’s parents. Even his brother is left in the dark. When the news breaks, brother calls their mother, sobbing over the phone:
"Mom! Andrii is dead! Your son is gone!"
His mother, her voice steady, replies:
"Calm down, son. Everything is fine. Your brother is alive. Let me explain…"
Children with Rifles in Endless Waters
Meanwhile, the occupiers continue hunting for Andrii, closing in on him. They capture some of his acquaintances, who, under torture, reveal everything they know. Russian forces raid locations where he has been seen. He is forced to constantly arrange for his son, Yurii, to be moved from place to place.
Eventually, it becomes clear that Yurii needs to be smuggled out of occupied territory. Andrii arranges for two women to drive his and Mykhailo’s sons out. Mykhailo’s other son has already been captured.
The plan is for the women and children to reach Komyshany, where a friend will meet them. The area must be carefully scouted because, by this time, the Russians are conducting raids along the entire shoreline. The friend is to set up a decoy — an ordinary riverside picnic with barbecue and fishing rods. Then, he will take the boys on a boat out onto the river. Meanwhile, Andrii will approach the designated point from Mykolaiv’s side.
Everything goes according to the plan. On the evening arranged, Andrii reaches the meeting point but hears numerous boats nearby. He remains hidden for hours, repeatedly changing locations, waiting in the reeds. He doesn’t sleep for two days.
Finally, the boat carrying the children arrives at the designated spot. They are transferred to Andrii’s boat. The three of them wait till it gets dark before silently making their way out through the channels. Andrii hands each child a rifle and tells them:
"If something happens, shoot. Don’t be afraid, okay? Listen carefully — everything depends on this. We’re a team now."
He also instructs them to scan the night sky and report if they see any little stars that seem to be moving slowly. Those could be drones surveilling the area.
Soon, the children spot a drone. Andrii immediately shuts off the engine, covers it with a protective net, and waits in silence a bit, and then moves on.
The journey is long. They reach open water when suddenly, in the middle of the estuary, Andrii’s engine dies. Pitch darkness. It’s 3 a.m. Seven kilometers to either shore. Both sides are controlled by Russians. Rowing to land before dawn is impossible, and when morning comes, they will be spotted. The wind dies down. The kids sit clutching their rifles.
Andrii calls his kum. He hears a series of short beeps. He tries again — this time, the kum answers. The connection is weak. Andrii explains the situation. His kum suggests checking a specific part of the fuel injector. Yurii covers Andrii with a jacket, Mykhailo’s son uses a phone flashlight to illuminate the engine, and Andrii fumbles with the unfamiliar machinery. He finds the problem — a dislodged part — and reattaches it.
He tries restarting the engine — it works. The journey continues.
At dawn, their boat crosses the border between occupied and free territory. Russian forces spot them. Andrii sees them too, standing on the shore. He grips the throttle and accelerates to full speed.
Water sprays against the boys’ exhausted but smiling faces. They are free.
Enemy Armor Sinks to the Bottom
Andrii still needed to get his wife back. The faked-death plan worked — the Russians released her. Although they told her they her husband was dead and it was them who had killed him. The kum who had helped Andrii with the boat picked her up and drove her closer to Mykolaiv Oblast.
On the way, Olena had a breakdown in the car. She sobbed uncontrollably, convinced her husband was dead. The kum tried to calm her, telling her Andrii was alive and well. She didn’t believe him and couldn’t make sense of what was happening. They stopped on the roadside and called Andrii over video. They agree that in Vasylivka, a woman who occasionally helped women escape the occupied territory would pick Olena up. So, by August, she made it out as well.
There was still the unresolved matter of his brother. He refused to leave, remaining in occupied Kizomys and sending Andrii updates on river and shoreline activity. One day, he reported that the Russians had deployed amphibious transport vehicles — PTS.
Soon after, Andrii and his comrades were navigating the river at night near the reported PTS locations. They moved cautiously through the reeds, trying to pass unnoticed. Suddenly, they came upon two amphibious transporters.
They quickly ducked back. No one had noticed them, but it was too late to turn back. Dawn was breaking, which meant they would soon be spotted from the shore. The only option was to press forward.
They decided to engage — to open fire on the vehicles. Two German RPGs were prepared and carefully balanced for a shot from the water.
They emerged from the reeds, aimed straight at the Russian vehicles.
The first shot — a direct hit. The second — also a hit. Enemy transporters were sent to the bottom.
Mission accomplished, they needed to vanish. Andrii hit the gas. The team sped through canals, reeds, and islets, steering the boat into a hidden spot. They stopped, covered up with camouflage netting, and caught their breath.
They listened — far off, the air was filled with shouting, rumbling, whistling, and bursts of gunfire. They waited a little longer until it all died down. Then they moved on.
Rescuing a Brother-in-Arms—and Freedom
After sinking the two amphibious transports, Andrii’s Special Operations Forces unit went underground for several weeks.
Then autumn came. It got colder. New missions emerged. In October, command tasked Andrii and his comrades with extracting Mykhailo, who had worked with them over the summer but had since gone into hiding.
The partisans drafted an exfiltration plan and got to work. Andrii sent coordinates for a point on an island where he and another fighter would pick Mykhailo up by boat. On the designated night, they reached the Stanislav lighthouse — the same spot where they had previously eliminated several Russians.
Suddenly, the moon lit up brightly, and the wind died down. Their boat was now drifting across the open estuary. It was obvious — they could be spotted.
Then came the sounds of other boats. Could be Russians. Or maybe... Andrii’s men?
Moments later, anti-aircraft guns opened fire on those other boats. Loud, heavy, tracer rounds cutting through the night.
Andrii called Mykhailo. He picked up, and they confirmed — those were indeed their guys on the water. The meeting point stayed the same. They had to press on. If they didn’t make it to that spot, Mykhailo would freeze or starve to death in a few days. Andrii had chosen the location for a reason — no one, not even the Russians, could reach it on foot. From either direction.
They kept going. Suddenly, a thick fog settled over the water. They couldn’t see a thing. They pulled out the GPS and kept moving, took another turn, got lost, and then found the right direction again. They wandered like that for hours.
Eventually, Andrii and his comrade reached the spot. There was Mykhailo, waiting with a screwdriver in hand, ready to fight if needed.
They hugged, exchanged a few words, and set off almost immediately. Dawn was coming soon, and spending the night hiding out here wasn’t an option.
The soldiers decided to gun it at top speed. With weapons in hand, They’re doing 70 kilometers per hour through glass-still water.
Soon, a boat jumps out behind them — but it can’t keep up for long.
Near Stanislav, two more boats tried to pursue them but they couldn't keep up either. And then finally — the free shores of Mykolaiv came into view.
Late October. Sunrise. Freedom.
***
Soon after, the Ukrainian Armed Forces liberated the right bank of Kherson Oblast. Andrii was tasked with returning to Kherson almost immediately. There, he decided to go to the hospital to visit his kum who had been captured and tortured by the Russians in the final days of the occupation. The man had lost consciousness and remained unresponsive for several days.
When Andrii shows up, his kum unexpectedly regains consciousness. When he opened his eyes and saw Andrii sitting nearby, he said:
"The last thing I remember, it was still the occupation. Then I wake up — and you're here, and we're free."
The situation with Andrii’s brother was far more grim. He had been hiding out for a month in the lakes and wetlands, but Andrii hadn’t been able to reach him in time.
Eventually, his brother was captured. It turned out he’d been betrayed by one of Andrii’s partners — the same man who had helped evacuate their mother in the early days. The very same person who ultimately betrayed their entire group. He gave up everything and everyone. Then he traded his freedom for Andrii’s brother.
That traitor would soon be sentenced to 15 years in prison, with confiscation of all his property.
As for Andrii, after the de-occupation, he remained in military service and continued to take part in operations — including assignments near the village of Krynky.
*All names have been changed
