Latest news with #Oleh
The Guardian
30-06-2025
- The Guardian
Russia pays young Ukrainians to be unwitting suicide bombers in shadow war
Oleh found the job via a Telegram channel offering day work and side gigs. It sounded easy enough: he was to travel from his home in eastern Ukraine to the western city of Rivne, pick up a rucksack containing a paint canister and spray it outside the local police station. It would require nimble feet to flee the scene without being caught, but the money on offer – $1,000 – was good, fantastic even, for what amounted to a morning's work for the 19-year-old. But when, on a snowy morning in early February, he opened the bag outside Rivne's police station, he recoiled in horror. Instead of a paint canister, he saw something that looked like a homemade bomb, with protruding wires and a mobile phone attached to it, apparently a crude remote detonation mechanism. The device, if it had detonated, would have made Oleh an unwitting suicide bomber, part of a sinister new trend of attacks inside Ukraine that the country's SBU security agency says are organised by Russian intelligence officers using local one-time recruits. So far, there have been more than a dozen attacks in which the perpetrator was injured or killed, according to a Ukrainian law enforcement source. Russia's sabotage campaign inside Ukraine started last spring, SBU spokesperson Artem Dekhtiarenko told the Guardian. To begin with, it involved arson attacks on military vehicles, conscription offices and post offices. It was primarily aimed at western Ukrainian regions, far from the front. Ukrainians, often teenagers, were offered money via Telegram to carry out the attacks by 'curators' who used a mixture of enticements and blackmail to snare their recruits. The perpetrators then had to make a video of the fire on their phones, and send the recording as proof the deed had been done. The videos would invariably find their way on to Russia-friendly Telegram channels, as supposed evidence of discontent inside Ukraine, stoking real social tensions over issues such as conscription that have flared during Russia's war on the country. These attacks were part of a secret shadow war, raging in parallel with the conflict on the frontlines. Russia is also carrying out arson and sabotage attacks in European countries, according to multiple western intelligence agencies, while Ukrainian services are believed to be behind a number of arson attacks at conscription offices in Russia earlier in the war. At the end of 2024, Russia apparently decided on a major escalation, moving from simple arson attacks in Ukraine to bombings that are more reminiscent of the tactics of terrorist groups. 'They started the mass recruitment of Ukrainians to plant bombs: in cars, near conscription offices, near police departments, and so on,' said Dekhtiarenko. This account of Russia's new campaign of bombings in Ukraine is based on prison interviews with perpetrators, who are currently detained and awaiting trial. Their names have been changed. It also draws on access to case materials and interviews with several SBU operatives who have worked on similar cases. The Russians recruit networks of Ukrainians, the SBU believes, with one person making the bomb and leaving it at an agreed spot. Someone else then collects it, without knowing what it is. The Russian curators can thus set off explosions deep inside Ukraine, without needing to set foot in the country. The SBU says it has detained more than 700 people since the beginning of 2024 for sabotage, arson or terrorism. Many are unemployed or need money to feed addictions, but about a quarter of them are teenagers, the youngest to date being an 11-year-old girl from Odesa region. 'In some cases, the agents don't only plant the bomb, but unconsciously perform the role of a suicide bomber. Russians blow up their own agents; this is becoming common practice,' said Dekhtiarenko. Oleh, 19 and unemployed, was badly in need of cash. 'I sat at home and mostly did nothing,' is how he described the last three years, since he left school. In 2024, he became a father, and he now had a baby to support. So he spent a lot of time on various 'work in Ukraine' Telegram channels, looking to make some quick money. On one of them he spotted a post by a man called Anton. 'He said he had easy jobs, payment in dollars. When I contacted him, he told me to take photos of the courthouse, the conscription office, the police station [in my home town]. He paid me $50, to a crypto wallet,' Oleh recalled. The payment was made in USDT, a cryptocurrency stablecoin. Russian curators usually start off with simple tasks like this, say SBU officers. Taking photographs of sensitive sites is one common request, printing out and hanging a few copies of subversive flyers is another. Then, once the recruit is drawn in, they up the stakes. 'Sometimes they use threats, sometimes they are friendly and encouraging. It depends on who is curating the agent; they use different psychological manipulations on different people,' said Dekhtiarenko. Often, the curators use youth slang to give the impression the recruit is talking to someone their own age. Sometimes they flirt with the recruits, or offer them moral support about difficult family situations. They will not usually reveal themselves as Russians; they might claim to be Ukrainians who are 'tired of war' and want to show there is opposition to it. If the recruit is proving unwilling, the curator might reveal the Russian connection and use blackmail to push for further action, threatening to send evidence of previous cooperation to the SBU. 'After people perform the first task, they are on the hook,' said Dekhtiarenko. In one case, malware was sent to the mobile phone of a teenage female recruit and the curator threatened to publish intimate photographs and videos hacked from the phone if the girl did not continue to cooperate. Soon after Oleh had taken the photographs, Anton offered him a new task: to burn down a building in his home town. Oleh didn't want to do that; he wasn't a terrorist, he told the man. When Anton insisted, Oleh blocked his account. But the exchange stuck in Oleh's mind, because he really needed money. So when another man, who claimed to be called Alexander, got in touch with him on Telegram a few weeks later, and suggested the possibility of earning $1,000 without the need to burn anything, he was sorely tempted. Oleh was worried about doing the job alone, so he called his old school friend Serhiy and suggested they did the job together. He offered to split the $1,000 down the middle. 'He said: 'I've got some work, wanna come to Rivne?' I said: 'What's the work?' and he said: 'I'll tell you later,'' Serhiy recalled in an interview. Serhiy quickly agreed; he was also unemployed, and had two children. The money would be useful. Oleh told his girlfriend he was off for a couple of days to make some money for her and their child. Alexander, the Telegram curator, sent him about $200 up front for expenses, again in cryptocurrency, and he bought tickets for a bus from Sumy region to Rivne. The ride took all day; Oleh and Serhiy arrived in Rivne late in the evening. Alexander told Oleh he should find a cheap hotel for the night and await instructions. The next morning, Alexander sent Oleh a location pin – a garage cooperative on the outskirts of town. 'He said all we have to do is pick up a rucksack there with some paint in it,' said Serhiy. The duo set out, a little nervous. When they got to the location, Oleh called his Telegram contact, who guided him by phone. 'He said, 'Turn right, between garage number 32 and number 33, and you'll see a tyre,'' Oleh recalled. Stashed inside the tyre, he found a black rucksack and a white plastic bag. He picked up both of them, as instructed. Alexander told Oleh not to open the bags but to head to the next location he would share via Telegram, which was a pin for the local police station, and then call him. The canister was primed to explode when the bag was opened, Alexander said, spraying the walls of the police station with paint and delivering an anti-establishment message about the futility of war. Oleh called a taxi and the pair headed into town. Oleh and Serhiy agreed they would split up ahead of reaching the police station; Oleh would be in charge of coordinating with Alexander where he should leave the bag, while Serhiy would keep lookout to check they were not being followed and tell his friend if he spotted anything suspicious. The Telegram chat between them, seen by the Guardian, shows Serhiy was deeply uneasy. 'I've seen the same BMW again, and the same woman,' he wrote, suspecting they were being watched. 'Let's hope everything's going to be OK,' Oleh wrote. Alexander called Oleh and told him he should open the white plastic bag and take out the box he would find in it. Then he should walk, holding it, towards the entrance of the police station. Oleh did so, but grew suspicious and opened the box to check the contents. He was startled to see something that looked like very much like a bomb. Panicking, he decided to rush to the nearest police officer, and announced that he feared he was carrying explosives. Just as he did so, SBU operatives pounced on both Oleh and Serhiy, grabbing the packages and forcing the two men on to the ground. An SBU team had been watching Oleh and Serhiy ever since they picked up the bomb, according to an operative involved in the case. Just three days earlier, Rivne had experienced a very similar attack. An unemployed 21-year-old was recruited on Telegram to pick up a device and take it to one of the city's military conscription offices. The device exploded, killing the attacker and wounding eight soldiers. The operative described the scheme in Oleh and Serhiy's case: the black rucksack contained a homemade explosive device, packed with screws and nails; the smaller bag held a white box containing a less powerful explosive device. This box had a small hole cut into it, with a cameraphone that transmitted geolocation and images of the surroundings to Alexander, who was also speaking to Oleh on a Telegram call. He could watch video of Oleh's location in real time and direct him to a suitable spot packed with people. Then, as Oleh waited for the command to remove the supposed paint canister from the bag, the curator would detonate both devices, by calling the phones attached to them. If this had happened, Oleh would most likely be dead, just like the attacker three days previously. The entrance to the police station was crowded with officers coming and going, and visitors queuing to receive building passes, so many more may have been killed with him. But the SBU had followed the pair and had special equipment on hand, the operative said, expecting another attack after the previous blast. 'We had certain technical means to block the signals to the telephone,' said the source. When Alexander rang the phones strapped to the bombs to detonate them, the calls did not go through. As for the real identity of Alexander, the SBU is not certain, thought it is confident in the assessment that, one way or another, he represented the Russian services. It is believed that sometimes the curation is done by staff officers of GRU military intelligence or the FSB domestic security service, but both services also recruit go-betweens to make the actual calls. The SBU has not yet found the person who made the bombs that Oleh and Serhiy picked up, although the assumption is that it was done by another Ukrainian teenager recruited by Alexander. Previously, the SBU in Rivne detained a teenage girl for making similar explosive devices. She had also been recruited on Telegram and was then sent video tutorials on how to make the devices from commonly available products. To try to counteract the recruitment of teenagers for such tasks, the SBU has launched an awareness programme in Ukrainian schools, to warn children of the dangers of accepting offers to make money from strangers on Telegram. The best public interest journalism relies on first-hand accounts from people in the know. If you have something to share on this subject you can contact us confidentially using the following methods. Secure Messaging in the Guardian app The Guardian app has a tool to send tips about stories. Messages are end to end encrypted and concealed within the routine activity that every Guardian mobile app performs. This prevents an observer from knowing that you are communicating with us at all, let alone what is being said. If you don't already have the Guardian app, download it (iOS/Android) and go to the menu. Select 'Secure Messaging'. SecureDrop, instant messengers, email, telephone and post See our guide at for alternative methods and the pros and cons of each. 'The only free cheese is in a mousetrap, as the saying goes,' said one of the officers involved. The agency has also set up a chatbot where young Ukrainians can report any suspicious approaches or Telegram accounts to the authorities. The big question for European intelligence services, which have been dealing with a wave of Russia-linked arson and sabotage attacks over the past year, is whether Moscow will export its latest tactic in Ukraine to the west. So far, attacks in the west have sought to cause chaos and sometimes material damage, but have not been directly designed to cause bloodshed. A Ukrainian law enforcement source said that could change: 'Ukraine is the testing ground for Russian conventional and hybrid warfare. Look at cyber-attacks, look at arson attacks, look at the sabotage on railways. They test things here, and then they do it in western countries,' said the source. For Oleh and Serhiy, being caught may have saved their lives, but they are now behind bars, awaiting a trial in which they could be sentenced to up to 12 years of prison time. Oleh said he is not sure yet if he will plead guilty; he insists he did not realise he was working for the Russians, or that his actions could have led to carnage. In a brief telephone conversation from the prison where he is being held in Rivne, his girlfriend told him to forget about ever speaking to her or their child ever again. He also had a short phone call with his parents, the content of which he summed up glumly and succinctly: 'They said I'm an idiot.'
The Guardian
30-06-2025
- The Guardian
Russia pays young Ukrainians to be unwitting suicide bombers in shadow war
Oleh found the job via a Telegram channel offering day work and side gigs. It sounded easy enough: he was to travel from his home in eastern Ukraine to the western city of Rivne, pick up a rucksack containing a paint canister and spray it outside the local police station. It would require nimble feet to flee the scene without being caught, but the money on offer – $1,000 – was good, fantastic even, for what amounted to a morning's work for the 19-year-old. But when, on a snowy morning in early February, he opened the bag outside Rivne's police station, he recoiled in horror. Instead of a paint canister, he saw something that looked like a homemade bomb, with protruding wires and a mobile phone attached to it, apparently a crude remote detonation mechanism. The device, if it had detonated, would have made Oleh an unwitting suicide bomber, part of a sinister new trend of attacks inside Ukraine that the country's SBU security agency says are organised by Russian intelligence officers using local one-time recruits. So far, there have been more than a dozen attacks in which the perpetrator was injured or killed, according to a Ukrainian law enforcement source. Russia's sabotage campaign inside Ukraine started last spring, SBU spokesperson Artem Dekhtiarenko told the Guardian. To begin with, it involved arson attacks on military vehicles, conscription offices and post offices. It was primarily aimed at western Ukrainian regions, far from the front. Ukrainians, often teenagers, were offered money via Telegram to carry out the attacks by 'curators' who used a mixture of enticements and blackmail to snare their recruits. The perpetrators then had to make a video of the fire on their phones, and send the recording as proof the deed had been done. The videos would invariably find their way on to Russia-friendly Telegram channels, as supposed evidence of discontent inside Ukraine, stoking real social tensions over issues such as conscription that have flared during Russia's war on the country. These attacks were part of a secret shadow war, raging in parallel with the conflict on the frontlines. Russia is also carrying out arson and sabotage attacks in European countries, according to multiple western intelligence agencies, while Ukrainian services are believed to be behind a number of arson attacks at conscription offices in Russia earlier in the war. At the end of 2024, Russia apparently decided on a major escalation, moving from simple arson attacks in Ukraine to bombings that are more reminiscent of the tactics of terrorist groups. 'They started the mass recruitment of Ukrainians to plant bombs: in cars, near conscription offices, near police departments, and so on,' said Dekhtiarenko. This account of Russia's new campaign of bombings in Ukraine is based on prison interviews with perpetrators, who are currently detained and awaiting trial. Their names have been changed. It also draws on access to case materials and interviews with several SBU operatives who have worked on similar cases. The Russians recruit networks of Ukrainians, the SBU believes, with one person making the bomb and leaving it at an agreed spot. Someone else then collects it, without knowing what it is. The Russian curators can thus set off explosions deep inside Ukraine, without needing to set foot in the country. The SBU says it has detained more than 700 people since the beginning of 2024 for sabotage, arson or terrorism. Many are unemployed or need money to feed addictions, but about a quarter of them are teenagers, the youngest to date being an 11-year-old girl from Odesa region. 'In some cases, the agents don't only plant the bomb, but unconsciously perform the role of a suicide bomber. Russians blow up their own agents, this is becoming common practice,' said Dekhtiarenko. Oleh, 19 and unemployed, was badly in need of cash. 'I sat at home and mostly did nothing,' is how he described the last three years, since he left school. In 2024, he became a father, and he now had a baby to support. So he spent a lot of time on various 'work in Ukraine' Telegram channels, looking to make some quick money. On one of them he spotted a post by a man called Anton. 'He said he had easy jobs, payment in dollars. When I contacted him, he told me to take photos of the courthouse, the conscription office, the police station [in my home town]. He paid me $50, to a crypto wallet,' Oleh recalled. The payment was made in USDT, a cryptocurrency stablecoin. Russian curators usually start off with simple tasks like this, say SBU officers. Taking photographs of sensitive sites is one common request, printing out and hanging a few copies of subversive flyers is another. Then, once the recruit is drawn in, they up the stakes. 'Sometimes they use threats, sometimes they are friendly and encouraging. It depends on who is curating the agent; they use different psychological manipulations on different people,' said Dekhtiarenko. Often, the curators use youth slang to give the impression the recruit is talking to someone their own age. Sometimes they flirt with the recruits, or offer them moral support about difficult family situations. They will not usually reveal themselves as Russians; they might claim to be Ukrainians who are 'tired of war' and want to show there is opposition to it. If the recruit is proving unwilling, the curator might reveal the Russian connection and use blackmail to push for further action, threatening to send evidence of previous cooperation to the SBU. 'After people perform the first task, they are on the hook,' said Dekhtiarenko. In one case, malware was sent to the mobile phone of a teenage female recruit and the curator threatened to publish intimate photographs and videos hacked from the phone if the girl did not continue to cooperate. Soon after Oleh had taken the photographs, Anton offered him a new task: to burn down a building in his home town. Oleh didn't want to do that; he wasn't a terrorist, he told the man. When Anton insisted, Oleh blocked his account. But the exchange stuck in Oleh's mind, because he really needed money. So when another man, who claimed to be called Alexander, got in touch with him on Telegram a few weeks later, and suggested the possibility of earning $1,000 without the need to burn anything, he was sorely tempted. Oleh was worried about doing the job alone, so he called his old school friend Serhiy and suggested they did the job together. He offered to split the $1,000 down the middle. 'He said: 'I've got some work, wanna come to Rivne?' I said: 'What's the work?' and he said: 'I'll tell you later,'' Serhiy recalled in an interview. Serhiy quickly agreed; he was also unemployed, and had two children. The money would be useful. Oleh told his girlfriend he was off for a couple of days to make some money for her and their child. Alexander, the Telegram curator, sent him about $200 up front for expenses, again in cryptocurrency, and he bought tickets for a bus from Sumy region to Rivne. The ride took all day; Oleh and Serhiy arrived in Rivne late in the evening. Alexander told Oleh he should find a cheap hotel for the night and await instructions. The next morning, Alexander sent Oleh a location pin – a garage cooperative on the outskirts of town. 'He said all we have to do is pick up a rucksack there with some paint in it,' said Serhiy. The duo set out, a little nervous. When they got to the location, Oleh called his Telegram contact, who guided him by phone. 'He said, 'Turn right, between garage number 32 and number 33, and you'll see a tyre,'' Oleh recalled. Stashed inside the tyre, he found a black rucksack and a white plastic bag. He picked up both of them, as instructed. Alexander told Oleh not to open the bags but to head to the next location he would share via Telegram, which was a pin for the local police station, and then call him. The canister was primed to explode when the bag was opened, Alexander said, spraying the walls of the police station with paint and delivering an anti-establishment message about the futility of war. Oleh called a taxi and the pair headed into town. Oleh and Serhiy agreed they would split up ahead of reaching the police station; Oleh would be in charge of coordinating with Alexander where he should leave the bag, while Serhiy would keep lookout to check they were not being followed and tell his friend if he spotted anything suspicious. The Telegram chat between them, seen by the Guardian, shows Serhiy was deeply uneasy. 'I've seen the same BMW again, and the same woman,' he wrote, suspecting they were being watched. 'Let's hope everything's going to be OK,' Oleh wrote. Alexander called Oleh and told him he should open the white plastic bag and take out the box he would find in it. Then he should walk, holding it, towards the entrance of the police station. Oleh did so, but grew suspicious and opened the box to check the contents. He was startled to see something that looked like very much like a bomb. Panicking, he decided to rush to the nearest police officer, and announced that he feared he was carrying explosives. Just as he did so, SBU operatives pounced on both Oleh and Serhiy, grabbing the packages and forcing the two men on to the ground. An SBU team had been watching Oleh and Serhiy ever since they picked up the bomb, according to an operative involved in the case. Just three days earlier, Rivne had experienced a very similar attack. An unemployed 21-year-old was recruited on Telegram to pick up a device and take it to one of the city's military conscription offices. The device exploded, killing the attacker and wounding eight soldiers. The operative described the scheme in Oleh and Serhiy's case: the black rucksack contained a homemade explosive device, packed with screws and nails; the smaller bag held a white box containing a less powerful explosive device. This box had a small hole cut into it, with a cameraphone that transmitted geolocation and images of the surroundings to Alexander, who was also speaking to Oleh on a Telegram call. He could watch video of Oleh's location in real time and direct him to a suitable spot packed with people. Then, as Oleh waited for the command to remove the supposed paint canister from the bag, the curator would detonate both devices, by calling the phones attached to them. If this had happened, Oleh would most likely be dead, just like the attacker three days previously. The entrance to the police station was crowded with officers coming and going, and visitors queuing to receive building passes, so many more may have been killed with him. But the SBU had followed the pair and had special equipment on hand, the operative said, expecting another attack after the previous blast. 'We had certain technical means to block the signals to the telephone,' said the source. When Alexander rang the phones strapped to the bombs to detonate them, the calls did not go through. As for the real identity of Alexander, the SBU is not certain, thought it is confident in the assessment that, one way or another, he represented the Russian services. It is believed that sometimes the curation is done by staff officers of GRU military intelligence or the FSB domestic security service, but both services also recruit go-betweens to make the actual calls. The SBU has not yet found the person who made the bombs that Oleh and Serhiy picked up, although the assumption is that it was done by another Ukrainian teenager recruited by Alexander. Previously, the SBU in Rivne detained a teenage girl for making similar explosive devices. She had also been recruited on Telegram and was then sent video tutorials on how to make the devices from commonly available products. To try to counteract the recruitment of teenagers for such tasks, the SBU has launched an awareness programme in Ukrainian schools, to warn children of the dangers of accepting offers to make money from strangers on Telegram. 'The only free cheese is in a mousetrap, as the saying goes,' said one of the officers involved. The agency has also set up a chatbot where young Ukrainians can report any suspicious approaches or Telegram accounts to the authorities. The big question for European intelligence services, which have been dealing with a wave of Russia-linked arson and sabotage attacks over the past year, is whether Moscow will export its latest tactic in Ukraine to the west. So far, attacks in the west have sought to cause chaos and sometimes material damage, but have not been directly designed to cause bloodshed. A Ukrainian law enforcement source said that could change: 'Ukraine is the testing ground for Russian conventional and hybrid warfare. Look at cyber-attacks, look at arson attacks, look at the sabotage on railways. They test things here, and then they do it in western countries,' said the source. For Oleh and Serhiy, being caught may have saved their lives, but they are now behind bars, awaiting a trial in which they could be sentenced to up to 12 years of prison time. Oleh said he is not sure yet if he will plead guilty; he insists he did not realise he was working for the Russians, or that his actions could have led to carnage. In a brief telephone conversation from the prison where he is being held in Rivne, his girlfriend told him to forget about ever speaking to her or their child ever again. He also had a short phone call with his parents, the content of which he summed up glumly and succinctly: 'They said I'm an idiot.'
The Irish Sun
16-05-2025
- Health
- The Irish Sun
Inside jaw-dropping secret hospital on Ukraine front where doctors save hero soldiers' lives with surgery & amputations
RACING into action like a finely tuned F1 mechanic team, medics rush to save the life of yet another soldier blasted by a Russian drone. But this is no ordinary field hospital, perilously close to Ukraine's front line. Advertisement 6 The Sun was granted exclusive access to a top secret Ukrainian hospital underground on the front line 6 23-year-old Oleh was treated at the hospital after suffering concussion and burns to his arm, neck and face This is one of the most jaw-dropping innovations of the three-year-old war — an underground hospital 20ft beneath the surface to protect surgeons from Russian shells. And The Sun saw first-hand how the facility — the only one of its kind in Ukraine — is saving lives daily. We watched as a paramedic raced into the unit's triage bay in a Land Rover Discovery carrying a soldier injured in a drone grenade attack that killed two colleagues. As the 12-strong surgical team leapt into action, the shaken paramedic told us: 'There was a group going to an assault on foot. I heard about it on the radio and went to their position. Advertisement READ MORE ON UKRAINE 'They were brought to my vehicle and I drove here. "There were four of them, two were injured. I think two are probably dead.' The patient, a 23-year-old called Oleh, had suffered concussion and burns to his arm, neck and face. He was rushed into the hospital's red zone where the two operating rooms are on permanent readiness for the most seriously injured, who sometimes need amputations or open-heart surgery. Advertisement Most read in The US Sun Oleh was given painkillers and sedatives as staff — who moments earlier were playing Jenga in the rest area — cut off his military fatigues. Russians hunted down by Ukraine drones as Putin breaks his own ceasefire Life and death They then treated his burns and hooked him up to a monitor to check his vital signs. They also performed a fast protocol — an ultrasound scan of his chest and abdomen for internal injuries. And although he was struggling to catch his breath, Oleh was keen to tell his story. Advertisement Wearing a neck brace and speaking from under a gauze face mask, the bearded soldier later told The Sun: 'We came under fire. We hid in a dugout. They started flushing us out from there with drones. 'After that, they dropped gas . We couldn't stay there any more, so we had to run. There weren't any major shelters. We hid in some bushes. 'As soon as we got into the bushes, either an FPV [First Person View drone] flew in or something was dropped from a drone. My comrade was killed. I survived. 'I was heavily concussed. I lost orientation a bit and couldn't move. Then I started crawling on all fours to another set of bushes, where my other comrades were. Advertisement 'I crawled over to them, and then drones started circling over us again. Another FPV drone hit my comrades. Then just two of us were left. "After that, a vehicle came for us. I made it out. That's already something. Two of my comrades were killed.' 6 Surgeons battle to stabilise patients who arrive needing urgent help in the secret facility The second soldier injured in the attack — a 22-year-old — was brought in soon after Oleh, as another 4x4 came tearing out of the darkness. Advertisement The doctors are sometimes alerted by radio that a patient is coming in, but such is the chaos of the battlefield that the first indication is often when they hear the roar of a vehicle approaching. Clearly in pain, the second patient moaned as nurses tended to the shrapnel wounds that peppered his back and arm. The men's patient numbers — six and seven, meaning they were the unit's sixth and seventh that day — were written on the back of their hands. And medical cards were filled in with their personal details, the unit they were with and their initial medical assessment. Advertisement Oleh's card was placed on his stretcher as an ambulance arrived to take him to a traditional hospital 40 minutes away in a safer zone. It was just 55 minutes after he had arrived. This hospital was built because during the bombing we decided it's much better underground than above ground. It is a game-changer for us in terms of safety . Hospital commander Eugene Antoniuk Head of surgery Yurii Palamerchuk, 52, yelled 'Good luck' as the young soldier was driven away for the next stage of his treatment. Yurii added: 'We work fast and work as a team. There are no extra words or actions, we focus only on what we need to do for the patient.' As politicians inch towards a ceasefire deal, the grim reality of daily life in this cutting-edge field hospital shows just how brutal this war is. Advertisement "It took four months to build and opened towards the end of last year. The medics are based frighteningly close to the front line so injured soldiers can be admitted in the 'golden hour' — the period when initial treatment can be the difference between life and death. That puts the team well within the reach of Russian missiles. Their new subterranean base has been shelled at least four times, but thanks to its depth and the fact the walls and ceilings are lined with 18in-thick tree trunks, no one was hurt. Advertisement The hospital's location in eastern Ukraine is classified information. The Sun team — under strict instructions not to take any external photos that may give away its position — were driven 30 minutes past tank defences and checkpoints on the way to the front line. We pulled off the road on to a track towards what appeared to be crumbling, disused farm buildings, but which were a previous field hospital destroyed in a bombing. The track dipped underground into the triage bay, which is adorned with two flags — a Ukrainian one and a Union Jack that was presented to one of the team when he attended a military surgeons course in the UK. Advertisement 6 The hospital's location in Ukraine is top secret to protect it from Russian bombings As well as the operating rooms, the hospital has an intensive care unit, sleeping quarters, staff rest area, kitchen, offices and bathrooms in six metal barrels buried underground. Hospital commander Eugene Antoniuk, 42, said: 'This hospital was built because in the time of bombing we decided it's much better underground than above ground. "This is a game-changer for us in terms of safety. In terms of medical care for the patient it is exactly the same — the same equipment, the same operation tables and the same medical staff. But we are all safer. Advertisement 'Every day we're receiving patients, but it's very hard because they are targeting our medevacs [evacuation vehicles] with drones. 'Shepherd's pie' 'So it is mostly only at night or in bad weather that we receive patients, when it is safer for the medevac. 'This area has been shelled more than 20 times — this shelter maybe four or five. 'In military life it becomes normal, like having a morning cup of tea. Advertisement "It's very routine. If the bombing happens when we are treating a patient, we can't stop. "One time the surgery team was working in helmets and armour because we needed to save a patient. 'They are all great surgeons who work here. They are good guys. They are my friends. 'Some of our surgeons have studied in England, which is nice because Britain is very supportive of Ukraine. We are receiving very big support from Britain.' Advertisement 6 A Union Jack flag hangs inside the facility in tribute to the support the surgeons have received from the UK Mykhailo Mazur, 27, is one of those who attended a military surgeons course here. He said: 'We saw a little bit of England and had fish and chips, which were wonderful, and some shepherd's pie. 'There is wonderful support from the British people. Your people are ready to help us and we are inspired by that.' Advertisement Head of surgery Yurii, formerly a paediatric surgeon in civvy street, joined up within days of the Russian invasion in 2022. He said: 'At that time it was important to save the lives of our soldiers who were defending our country. 'The surgery was heavy — as hard as the war. The large number of injuries, the damage, they always influenced everyone emotionally. It was hard for everyone.' The dad of three added: 'When I'm recalling my past, how I was working with children and in paediatric surgery, it gives me some warmth and makes me feel better. Advertisement 'I have a dream that this will all be over soon and I will go back to that.' Anaesthesiologist Serhii Koniukh, 44, oversees patients' care throughout their time in the unit. He showed us the fridge which contains two and a half pints of blood for each of the blood groups, but revealed that at critical times staff also donate themselves. He said: 'I have donated three times and my commander has donated four times. Advertisement 'The blood we have here is donated by people who want to help. 'If there is a big bombardment and we need more then the government puts it out on social media and people always respond.' Patients don't stay in the unit for long — two to three hours is normally the longest, by which time they are stabilised and can then be transferred. If they make it here alive then the chances are that they will survive, although some will have life-changing injuries. Advertisement Serhii, a major in the Ukrainian armed forces who also served as a medic when Russia invaded Crimea in 2014, added: 'Seeing people without arms and legs is the hardest thing. 'Recently it was the 80th anniversary of VE Day. People said, then, never again. But it is happening again. 'As for a ceasefire, we wait for a miracle. Until then, only Ukrainian people can protect our country.' As Serhii spoke of his hopes for the future , his colleagues watched the ambulance leave with Oleh safely on board. Advertisement And with that emergency dealt with, it was back to their unfinished game of Jenga. 6 Staff have facilities to relax during their down time before carrying out life saving operations
Scottish Sun
16-05-2025
- Health
- Scottish Sun
Inside jaw-dropping secret hospital on Ukraine front where doctors save hero soldiers' lives with surgery & amputations
Click to share on X/Twitter (Opens in new window) Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) RACING into action like a finely tuned F1 mechanic team, medics rush to save the life of yet another soldier blasted by a Russian drone. But this is no ordinary field hospital, perilously close to Ukraine's front line. Sign up for Scottish Sun newsletter Sign up 6 The Sun was granted exclusive access to a top secret Ukrainian hospital underground on the front line 6 23-year-old Oleh was treated at the hospital after suffering concussion and burns to his arm, neck and face This is one of the most jaw-dropping innovations of the three-year-old war — an underground hospital 20ft beneath the surface to protect surgeons from Russian shells. And The Sun saw first-hand how the facility — the only one of its kind in Ukraine — is saving lives daily. We watched as a paramedic raced into the unit's triage bay in a Land Rover Discovery carrying a soldier injured in a drone grenade attack that killed two colleagues. As the 12-strong surgical team leapt into action, the shaken paramedic told us: 'There was a group going to an assault on foot. I heard about it on the radio and went to their position. 'They were brought to my vehicle and I drove here. "There were four of them, two were injured. I think two are probably dead.' The patient, a 23-year-old called Oleh, had suffered concussion and burns to his arm, neck and face. He was rushed into the hospital's red zone where the two operating rooms are on permanent readiness for the most seriously injured, who sometimes need amputations or open-heart surgery. Oleh was given painkillers and sedatives as staff — who moments earlier were playing Jenga in the rest area — cut off his military fatigues. Russians hunted down by Ukraine drones as Putin breaks his own ceasefire Life and death They then treated his burns and hooked him up to a monitor to check his vital signs. They also performed a fast protocol — an ultrasound scan of his chest and abdomen for internal injuries. And although he was struggling to catch his breath, Oleh was keen to tell his story. Wearing a neck brace and speaking from under a gauze face mask, the bearded soldier later told The Sun: 'We came under fire. We hid in a dugout. They started flushing us out from there with drones. 'After that, they dropped gas. We couldn't stay there any more, so we had to run. There weren't any major shelters. We hid in some bushes. 'As soon as we got into the bushes, either an FPV [First Person View drone] flew in or something was dropped from a drone. My comrade was killed. I survived. 'I was heavily concussed. I lost orientation a bit and couldn't move. Then I started crawling on all fours to another set of bushes, where my other comrades were. 'I crawled over to them, and then drones started circling over us again. Another FPV drone hit my comrades. Then just two of us were left. "After that, a vehicle came for us. I made it out. That's already something. Two of my comrades were killed.' 6 Surgeons battle to stabilise patients who arrive needing urgent help in the secret facility The second soldier injured in the attack — a 22-year-old — was brought in soon after Oleh, as another 4x4 came tearing out of the darkness. The doctors are sometimes alerted by radio that a patient is coming in, but such is the chaos of the battlefield that the first indication is often when they hear the roar of a vehicle approaching. Clearly in pain, the second patient moaned as nurses tended to the shrapnel wounds that peppered his back and arm. The men's patient numbers — six and seven, meaning they were the unit's sixth and seventh that day — were written on the back of their hands. And medical cards were filled in with their personal details, the unit they were with and their initial medical assessment. Oleh's card was placed on his stretcher as an ambulance arrived to take him to a traditional hospital 40 minutes away in a safer zone. It was just 55 minutes after he had arrived. This hospital was built because during the bombing we decided it's much better underground than above ground. It is a game-changer for us in terms of safety . Hospital commander Eugene Antoniuk Head of surgery Yurii Palamerchuk, 52, yelled 'Good luck' as the young soldier was driven away for the next stage of his treatment. Yurii added: 'We work fast and work as a team. There are no extra words or actions, we focus only on what we need to do for the patient.' As politicians inch towards a ceasefire deal, the grim reality of daily life in this cutting-edge field hospital shows just how brutal this war is. "It took four months to build and opened towards the end of last year. The medics are based frighteningly close to the front line so injured soldiers can be admitted in the 'golden hour' — the period when initial treatment can be the difference between life and death. That puts the team well within the reach of Russian missiles. Their new subterranean base has been shelled at least four times, but thanks to its depth and the fact the walls and ceilings are lined with 18in-thick tree trunks, no one was hurt. The hospital's location in eastern Ukraine is classified information. The Sun team — under strict instructions not to take any external photos that may give away its position — were driven 30 minutes past tank defences and checkpoints on the way to the front line. We pulled off the road on to a track towards what appeared to be crumbling, disused farm buildings, but which were a previous field hospital destroyed in a bombing. The track dipped underground into the triage bay, which is adorned with two flags — a Ukrainian one and a Union Jack that was presented to one of the team when he attended a military surgeons course in the UK. 6 The hospital's location in Ukraine is top secret to protect it from Russian bombings As well as the operating rooms, the hospital has an intensive care unit, sleeping quarters, staff rest area, kitchen, offices and bathrooms in six metal barrels buried underground. Hospital commander Eugene Antoniuk, 42, said: 'This hospital was built because in the time of bombing we decided it's much better underground than above ground. "This is a game-changer for us in terms of safety. In terms of medical care for the patient it is exactly the same — the same equipment, the same operation tables and the same medical staff. But we are all safer. 'Every day we're receiving patients, but it's very hard because they are targeting our medevacs [evacuation vehicles] with drones. 'Shepherd's pie' 'So it is mostly only at night or in bad weather that we receive patients, when it is safer for the medevac. 'This area has been shelled more than 20 times — this shelter maybe four or five. 'In military life it becomes normal, like having a morning cup of tea. "It's very routine. If the bombing happens when we are treating a patient, we can't stop. "One time the surgery team was working in helmets and armour because we needed to save a patient. 'They are all great surgeons who work here. They are good guys. They are my friends. 'Some of our surgeons have studied in England, which is nice because Britain is very supportive of Ukraine. We are receiving very big support from Britain.' 6 A Union Jack flag hangs inside the facility in tribute to the support the surgeons have received from the UK Mykhailo Mazur, 27, is one of those who attended a military surgeons course here. He said: 'We saw a little bit of England and had fish and chips, which were wonderful, and some shepherd's pie. 'There is wonderful support from the British people. Your people are ready to help us and we are inspired by that.' Head of surgery Yurii, formerly a paediatric surgeon in civvy street, joined up within days of the Russian invasion in 2022. He said: 'At that time it was important to save the lives of our soldiers who were defending our country. 'The surgery was heavy — as hard as the war. The large number of injuries, the damage, they always influenced everyone emotionally. It was hard for everyone.' The dad of three added: 'When I'm recalling my past, how I was working with children and in paediatric surgery, it gives me some warmth and makes me feel better. 'I have a dream that this will all be over soon and I will go back to that.' Anaesthesiologist Serhii Koniukh, 44, oversees patients' care throughout their time in the unit. He showed us the fridge which contains two and a half pints of blood for each of the blood groups, but revealed that at critical times staff also donate themselves. He said: 'I have donated three times and my commander has donated four times. 'The blood we have here is donated by people who want to help. 'If there is a big bombardment and we need more then the government puts it out on social media and people always respond.' Patients don't stay in the unit for long — two to three hours is normally the longest, by which time they are stabilised and can then be transferred. If they make it here alive then the chances are that they will survive, although some will have life-changing injuries. Serhii, a major in the Ukrainian armed forces who also served as a medic when Russia invaded Crimea in 2014, added: 'Seeing people without arms and legs is the hardest thing. 'Recently it was the 80th anniversary of VE Day. People said, then, never again. But it is happening again. 'As for a ceasefire, we wait for a miracle. Until then, only Ukrainian people can protect our country.' As Serhii spoke of his hopes for the future, his colleagues watched the ambulance leave with Oleh safely on board. And with that emergency dealt with, it was back to their unfinished game of Jenga.
Yahoo
28-04-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Kyiv bids farewell to 17-year-old Danylo and his parents, victims of Russian attack
Kyiv says goodbye to the family who died in the massive Russian attack on the night of 23-24 April – 17-year-old Danylo Khudei, as well as his parents, Viktoriia and Oleh. Source: Suspilne Details: Hundreds of people gathered for the ceremony at the Baikove Cemetery crematorium, as reported by Suspilne. The family lived in the Sviatoshynskyi district of Kyiv, on the first floor of the apartment building that was hit by a Russian missile. Danylo's younger sister, Yana, survived and is in the hospital. The teenager also has an older sister. "Yana is now in the hospital; the best doctors are taking care of her. She is conscious, but her leg is broken, the ligaments in her other leg are torn, and her rib is broken. She is now in a stable condition. She really wanted to come yesterday, she even started getting up despite the pain, forcing herself. She actually got up yesterday. The doctors said it was not necessary and did not let her go," said Andrii, a friend of the family. He lives next door to the apartment building destroyed by the Russian missile and admits that he too was injured in the attack. He remembers the deceased family with great fondness. "It was an incredible family. They were such people that you could even go to their house without calling; they were happy to see you. Uncle Oleh always said: "If you need anything, just tell me and I'll come". Dania also helped out a lot when I was feeling unwell. He would run and buy medicine and bring it to me," says a family friend. Danylo's teachers and fellow students came to say goodbye to Danylo, Viktoriia and Oleh. He was studying at the Kyiv Aviation Vocational College, majoring in Aviation and Rocket and Space Engineering. Danylo's friend Oleksandr says that he wanted to become an aircraft electrician and restore Antonov An-225 Mriia. Many people came to say goodbye to the victims. Photo: Suspilne. Kyiv Friends say that the 17-year-old boy was fond of sports and loved aviation. Danylo's friends say that his father was a military man: he served as a tanker from 2022, was later injured and underwent rehabilitation. Two weeks before the tragedy, he came home, said Danylo's group curator, deputy director of the college, Dmytro Shevchenko. Russian attack on the night of 23-24 April: what is known On the night of 23-24 April, Russia fired 215 missiles of various types and drones at Ukraine. Most of them were used to attack Kyiv, where an entire neighbourhood was damaged. On the morning of 25 April, rescue workers completed search and rescue operations. The attack injured nearly 90 people and killed 12 others. The Russian missile took the lives of brother and sister, 21-year-old Nikita and 19-year-old Sofiia. They were the children of Yaroslav Kozlov, a neurologist at the University Clinic of the Kyiv National University. Later, it was reported that the number of victims of the attack on the capital had increased to 13 people – on 28 April, Tymur Tkachenko, Head of the Kyiv City Military Administration, said that a 45-year-old man had died in hospital from burns. He is survived by a young daughter and a 6-year-old grandson. Support Ukrainska Pravda on Patreon!
