They jumped head-first off top bunk to break their necks. They were ready to do anything not to go hungry. For example, take blame for crime - Dmytro Turkivskyi on his time in captivity
Dmytro Turkivskyi is a serviceman of the 1st Separate Battalion of the 36th Separate Marine Brigade. At just 19, he found himself at the very heart of Russia’s assault on Mariupol. Forty-two days of defense, captivity, and 1,246 days in imprisonment - trials that seem unimaginable to most became his reality.
How long were you in captivity?
1,246 days.
How old were you when you were captured?
19.
Did Russians personally offer you to defect to Russia?
Yes, many times, of course. During morning roll calls, the door would just open, they’d take us out of the cell: whoever wants to — you’ll get better rations.
And what penalty does a fighter have to accept to get a larger food ration?
I know of cases where guys took the blame for murders.
For two, two and a half, years you had no support from international organizations at all.
Nothing at all; they let no one in. Their law is above international law. I think I was shocked with a stun gun more than 1,500 times. And then, once I was taken into Russia proper, I began to understand what was happening: that I wouldn’t be coming back any time soon, that it would be very hard.
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Dmytro Turkivskyi is a serviceman of the 1st Separate Battalion of the 36th Separate Marine Brigade.
At 19, he found himself at the epicenter of Russia’s assault on Mariupol.
42 days of defence, captivity and 1,246 days of captivity.
Trials that seem unimaginable to most became his reality.
Today, he shares what he went through and what helped him endure.
Where were you on February 23, on the eve of the Russian invasion?
At a position near the settlement of Pavlopil.
Were you on an observation post?
Yes, I was at the observation post.
There was an EW next to me.
Their task, as I understand it, was to use their equipment to determine by sound how much hardware there was. A brother-in-arms came up to me and said, "Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve never had this in my life, there’s so much equipment out there you can’t imagine."
And literally a day later, they packed up and left, because they realized it was going to get hot.
On 23 February, you were at the observation point, were you rotated off at 2 a.m.?
At midnight. My commander, a sergeant, rotated me off, and I went to rest because I was due back on duty in the morning.
And at 2 a.m., artillery woke us up.
An artillery barrage started; my brother-in-arms lying next to me sat up and said, "We’re dead — that’s it, we’re done."
We were at a loss — what?
We rushed outside and realized the war had begun.
What did you do next?
I served in a mortar battery unit. The commander of the 2nd company came up to me and said, "Dima, your guys’ radio battery is dead. We don’t have power, which means they don’t either. You need to take one over." It was about four kilometers — we went across fields, through mud, in the rain and I completed the task.
I thought I wouldn’t make it back because there was so much enemy equipment operating around.
And after that, we received an order to withdraw.
We had nothing, just whatever we managed to grab. We loaded into the vehicle and began slowly pulling back.
Was that on February 24?
Yes, it was February 24 — all this happened by around 7 p.m.
And after that, for the next four days, we just kept relocating. We’d take up a position, the commander would get on the radio and say, "Stand down," and we kept displacing, over and over, until we reached Mariupol.
So by March 1, you found yourselves in the city.
Yes. We were on the outskirts, and around noon we made it to the Illich plant itself, where the commanders were already making decisions.
I was at the plant twice, when we arrived on the 1st, and on April 6, when I managed to contact my family so they wouldn’t worry.
Then you moved out to the positions.
Yes. At our position there were two guns and a 120 mm mortar. We operated on the orders of our unit commander, we waited for the command, stepped out, and did our job.
How were you set for ammunition and supplies?
We had almost no provisions, barely enough for about ten days.
We survived, probably because we had a lot of coffee, tea and sugar.
That’s what we got by on. Same with rounds, we didn’t have them.
There were some, but critically few.
For roughly a month until early April, you were fighting inside Mariupol itself.
Yes, in Mariupol proper, that makes it 42 days, about forty to forty-two days.
Could you describe in more detail how Russian aviation operated? There were strikes on the maternity hospital, and there were strikes on the drama theater.
The only time there wasn’t aviation was roughly from midnight to 6 a.m. Otherwise, there was other artillery — they were firing from the ground and from the sea.
Starting at 6 a.m. every day, aircraft lifted off — typically carrying two bombs each.
Interestingly, the enemy called off air raids at night, when navigation was poor.
And knowing there was no air-defense opposition, they effectively flew over Mariupol with impunity.
And simply destroyed it — leveling it to the ground.
When we had to move out to perform our tasks and went into the city. What I saw were craters big enough for a Ural truck to fit into.
I mean, there were craters six to seven meters across. In my view, from a 200–500 kg aerial bomb.
This was at 5:59 a.m.
At 6 a.m., my brother-in-arms was due to rotate me off.
There’s an exit there, and that’s how we went out to the street.
Next to the exit there’s a partition wall about a meter thick. Behind it stood a table with just a kettle and tea. I went to wake my buddy so he could rotate me off. At 5:59 a.m., I took a step toward the table and was standing behind the partition and at that very second, an aerial bomb hit 30 meters away. Where I was, everything caught fire. My state is hard to recall: everything went black, my ears were ringing, I couldn’t understand what was happening, and I realized I was starting to burn — the heat was hitting me. My brothers-in-arms rushed in, put the flames out on me, and evacuated me. After that, it took me nearly four days to come to my senses. I understood what was going on, but it was hard. And here’s the point: one second, if I’d been standing in the doorway, I wouldn’t have survived. A one-meter partition wall saved me. That was the first time a bomb landed that close; 100 meters, 80 meters — that you can live with. But this bomb fell right in front of where we were.
During those 42 days in Mariupol before being captured, did you have any sense of what was happening?
I didn’t understand anything, I was carrying out tasks. I wasn’t thinking about what would happen in a month or two weeks.
Did you realize you were encircled?
Senior officers weren’t briefing us on the situation. Until 12 April, until I was captured, I knew nothing about it.
What range were you employing the mortar at?
The last time we fired the mortar it was at about 650 metres. We couldn’t operate at any closer range, the enemy had closed in. On 11 April, at around 8 a.m., when I was about to be relieved, they were already that close — they played the song "Blood Type on the Sleeve." In other words, they were signalling to surrender, letting us know we were encircled: either we all die or surrender.
Did you discuss this with your comrades?
No. I decided I wouldn’t surrender voluntarily. I’d read a bit about how it had been before — captivity is terrifying.
When did you next arrive at the Illich plant command post?
On 12 April at 3 a.m. The commander came on the radio and said, "Assemble at the bunker." Vehicles came for us; we’d already camouflaged our trucks and painted a "Z" on them, under the guise of the Russian army, in case we tried to break out. The commander ordered a breakout. But that was a personal choice for each man because it was extremely dangerous. The chances of breaking through were very small. We drove only about 200 metres from the plant before we blew a tyre, and then we returned on foot to the Illich plant, where everyone made their own decision.
The moment when the brigade commander decided to attempt a breakout — right? Did you know about that dramatic moment when some marines decided to join the defenders at Azovstal, to join the Azov regiment, while others chose to try to break out? You had no information about that at all?
We weren’t informed of anything. Maybe if I had known and if there had been people willing to go with me, I would have headed for another plant. I wasn’t briefed.
Did you decide to leave the encirclement?
Yes, I decided to try to get out. First I got up and looked for people I could leave with — about 15–20 at first. We moved roughly 100–150 metres from the plant and more and more people joined. I decided to return to the bunker, where I met someone, and we agreed to go together, just the two of us.
And this comrade of yours, by the way, what's his name?
Ihor.
Ihor. Comrade Ihor, so did you two decide together?
Yes. The two of us decided to attempt a breakout. It was 12 April, around 6:20 a.m. There was a silence. We put on body armour, grabbed whatever we had, just underwear and socks and set off straight across the fields. We knew full well there were enemy sniper positions. Out of sheer desperation, we walked straight on.
Did you and Ihor talk before you decided to leave the Illich plant? What did you discuss?
We were set on getting out, come what may. If we ran into a small enemy group, we’d open fire, take them out. If there was no enemy, we’d move as quietly as possible toward the Zaporizhzhia direction.
How far did you have to move to get out of Mariupol proper?
3.5 kilometres, because the plant is on the outskirts of the city. It was just a situation where we were walking along the landing, and there was an F-1 grenade, and my comrade said I didn't have a grenade, I'll take it.
I told him it was a tripwire. He said it wasn’t. He picked up the grenade, and I just saw the cord go taut and the safety pin come free. I dropped low at about five meters, it detonated and we moved on. After roughly 300 meters we came out into another field, freshly ploughed. There was a trench in the field. We saw cigarette smoke. We hadn’t smoked in a long time, and it was rough without cigarettes. I said, let’s go, maybe they’re our guys, we’ll bum a smoke. We didn’t even consider they might not be ours. We walked up — Russian Federation soldiers. We didn’t open fire; we said something like, let us just pass through and you… One of them ran off, reporting, as I understand it, that Ukrainian servicemen had come onto the position. We trained our rifles on them and began backing away. After about 30 meters we let off a couple of bursts to draw their attention and then turned and ran toward the tree line. They opened fire at our backs. Thank God it ended well, they missed.
We saw a house, and an old man was tinkering with something there. We came up and asked him to point us the way, we needed to head in a certain direction. He said, "Guys, go that way." We took his word and went that way. We’d gone about 20 meters when we were met by "Donetsk People’s Republic" troops. They said, "Hands up, grenades to the side, rifles in front. One move from your side and we’ll put you down." That’s when our captivity began.
How long were you in captivity?
1,246 days.
After the servicemen of the so-called "DPR" captured you, where were you taken next?
They searched us and took everything. I managed to throw away my military ID; all I had on me was a phone, which they confiscated, but it was new, no data on it, that worked in my favor. Naturally, they beat us a bit, there’s no getting around that, and threw us into a basement. We stayed there until about 4 p.m. They told me I’d be allowed to call home to say I’d been captured, but I never got the chance, a vehicle arrived, and they drove us to a pretrial detention center. There’s one there, closed off as well and they locked us in cells. We spent the night there; in the morning, they tied our hands, blindfolded us, and transported us, about 30 kilometers from Mariupol. There were abandoned stables, roughly 800 people packed in, no room to sleep, no food, no water. We collected rainwater; in three days we were fed once, a small piece of bread and two spoonfuls of porridge. Two cans of porridge for 32 people and two loaves of bread, we split them. They brought us to Olenivka. There was an intake, and they beat everyone, destroyed people. The barracks there were meant for 300–400 people; there were 800 of us. No bunks, just filthy mattresses. To sleep, you had to wait your turn, one slept, three waited.
The food was terrible, we survived mainly on bread…
There weren’t really interrogations there, they just beat us a few times, that’s all. But once I ended up in Russia itself, I realized it was going to be very hard.
You couldn’t open the window without permission. There was a food hatch, they’d pass you a stick through it to open the window and make you hand it right back. They’d open the window and shut off the heating, so it was freezing. People hanged themselves, slit their veins, people broke down.
They jumped headfirst off the top bunk to break their necks. They were ready to do anything not to go hungry — for example, take the blame for a crime. Sometimes they even confessed to a murder of a civilian in Mariupol. Investigators from Moscow would come and laugh at what our "interrogators" had written the stories were so obviously fabricated.
As for hygiene, apart from a single bar of foul-smelling laundry soap, we saw nothing else for three years and two months.
How did you take a shower?
You’d run into the bathhouse, they’d beat you as you undressed. There were two stools: one man sat, the other shaved him, once every two weeks. Then you switched places. There were four of us; in bigger cells people just bent over while being beaten, shaving each other at the same time. All this happened in front of Federal Penal Service officers and special forces. You had one minute, either in boiling water or ice-cold — then you ran out. They gave us toothbrushes after two years. For two years we cleaned our teeth with towels.
Were you allowed any walks?
Once every two weeks, maybe 30 to 40 minutes. I’d be running, and they’d say, "The youngest to the end of the line!" I’d run in that train-like formation, last in line, and they’d yell, "Stop!" and beat me.
We could be forced to sing the Russian anthem for half a day.
For over a year, a year and a half, we spent 16 hours a day standing at attention. One person read a poem, everyone repeated it. If someone didn’t memorize it — everyone was punished. I think I was shocked with a stun gun more than 1,500 times.
I weighed 68–70 kg; in captivity it dropped to 47. I was captured at 19 — now I’m 23. Age matters — I’m young, my immunity is strong. There were many cases of tuberculosis, the walls were covered in mold. My brother-in-arms caught tuberculosis. About ten people died in that detention center.
Tuberculosis, hepatitis.
Did the Russians try to "explain" things to you or somehow convey their version of what was happening?
Yes, constantly, they kept pushing propaganda, saying that everything was bad in our country, that Ukraine was losing the war, applying moral pressure all the time. They offered us to switch sides, to serve for the Russian Federation, we refused. They would speak to us over the intercom system. We pushed those thoughts aside and held on.
How often did the personnel at the colony change?
A lot of people changed during my time there, really, a lot.
I assume the rotation of special forces and Federal Penal Service officers was to prevent them from developing any sympathy toward prisoners, right?
Yes, there were special forces units that paid us no attention — they’d be there during morning checks, but we wouldn’t even hear them, just see their boots, know they were present. But those guys understood — they knew we had defended our homeland, that I’d been taken from my own country. And when someone dared to ask, "Why are you beating me? Because you came to my home and I’m defending my family?" — that person was punished severely.
In June 2024, the first serious human rights inspection arrived, and conditions began to change. They stopped touching us, and the food improved.
So for two, two and a half years you had no contact or support from international organizations at all?
Nothing at all, they didn’t let anyone in. Their "law" stands above international law, and they refuse everyone access. That’s the reason…
At what point did you realize there would be an exchange and you were going home?
I’ll tell you, on the 7th, at 6 p.m., the food hatch opened, they called my last name, and asked, "Do you know your relatives’ phone number?" I said yes. It was a Friday, and I was surprised because exchanges usually happen on weekdays. The next morning, Saturday the 8th, they took me out and said, "It’s your bath day," and I understood, I was going for exchange. There were three of us, and we told them what they wanted to hear — that conditions in captivity were fine, that we wanted to address Ukrainian soldiers — you know, all those staged talking points.
Were they filming it?
Yes, yes. We sang the Russian national anthem, then they took me back to my cell. At 7 p.m. they brought me out again, and the process began. As we landed, in Belarus, they untied our blindfolds and our hands. We were on an airfield; there were many officials and two buses. They told us, "No hugging here, you’re not home yet, the exchange hasn’t happened." We got on the buses — there were bags full of food, delicious stuff, even Coca-Cola. It felt amazing; everyone just dove into it — and it still wasn’t enough. Then we were taken to the Ukrainian border. We arrived around 10 a.m. and waited for the exchange until 2 p.m. Around 2, two buses with their servicemen pulled up; we saw them get out, walk toward our buses and then we got out of ours.
What were your emotions at that moment?
It’s impossible to describe. I have a video of that moment, when we were just entering Ukrainian territory. It was incredible — all along the road to Chernihiv, people were standing with flags, greeting us. When we arrived in Chernihiv, there were crowds everywhere; we could barely move — everyone wanted to give us something: cigarettes, socks, sweets.
Who was the first person you called?
The first call I wanted to make was to my mother. But her number was unavailable, so I called my sister. She had already seen me on TV, they had filmed us, and I was clearly visible. My sister said, "Mom’s been gone for two years. She passed away two years ago."
How close was your relationship with your mother?
I was on good terms with my mother, we grew much closer after I went on rotation, after I began serving. I completed all the training and we deployed to the combat zone, and we had a very warm relationship. When I came home on leave, she somehow felt it, she didn’t want to let me go back. It weighed heavily on me, too. I returned from leave, and just four months later, I was captured.
Before that moment, before you tried to call your mother after captivity — when was the last time you spoke with her?
I did speak with her. When we were at our position, we had no connection at all, nothing. We found a phone in a bag; one of my brothers-in-arms had a Sigma feature phone. There was one spot, on the fourth floor, where, if you placed it just right, you could sometimes get a signal. It might take forty tries to get through or if you were lucky, five.
Despite the shelling, the snipers, the artillery, and the airstrikes, each of us risked our lives just to call home. I managed to reach my family at the end of March. On April 6, I sent a message saying I was alive and wished my sister a happy birthday and that was it. After that, I didn’t contact anyone for three years.
How did your reunion with your sister happen?
When I was in the hospital, after about ten days they finally allowed relatives to visit and for us to go outside.
What was the first thing you said to your sister?
That I love her very much, that I was home, and that from now on all her problems are my problems. She’s the only one I have left — the only family I have now. I’d move mountains for her.
Do you ever feel a sense of injustice, that maybe society’s attitude toward the war has changed a bit?
Yes, sometimes I find myself in unpleasant situations. I look young, and people often give me a hard time, like on a bus, someone might say, "You? A war veteran? Have you looked at yourself?" They don’t know what I’ve been through. And I’m not going to broadcast it — that’s not in my interest. Let it stay on their conscience.
I realize it must be difficult to talk about all of this. But looking at you, I’m amazed — how you went through all that and can now sit here calmly and talk about it.
I speak calmly. When people ask, I talk about it, up until the moment I get tired, or until the person says, "I understand you." After those words, I usually stop talking to them. Only those who were there with me, who know what captivity really is, can understand.
I want to thank my officers and my unit, brave men, worthy of respect. They stood shoulder to shoulder with the soldiers.
What happened in Mariupol, what you and your brothers-in-arms did, is part of the resistance of Ukraine’s Armed Forces in the Russian-Ukrainian war. Glory to Ukraine!
Glory to the heroes!
