25 years in prison, 7 convictions and service as assault soldier in Ukrainian Armed Forces: story of fighter with call sign ’Dynia’ from ’Shkval’ unit
At age 49, a soldier with the call sign "Dynia" decided to take advantage of an early release program and join the "Shkval" unit of the Ukrainian Armed Forces’ 141st Separate Mechanized Brigade. He had spent 25 years behind bars, had seven prior convictions, had lived by prison rules, and had a history of drug addiction.
In the latest episode of ‘In the Line of Fire’, a soldier talks to journalist Iryna Sampan about his past, his motivation for joining an assault unit, his willingness to give his life for Ukraine, society’s attitude towards ex-convicts, and his greatest dream — to see his mum again.
How did you end up in the ‘Shkval’ unit, and why did you decide to join the army?
My path to the war was a long one. It all stemmed from 25 years in prison, which amounted to nothing. Then, after watching the news and hearing various stories about how our country is being destroyed and how people are dying, I decided to go and fight.
Was that 25 years all at once or with breaks in between?
Seven sentences; I was convicted seven times. That’s how life goes. The first time I was sent to prison was for drugs, then for theft. I lived for my own pleasure and didn’t think about anything. I just kept going down that path until I reached this point. And towards the end of my life – and I’m already 49 – I realised that I could be of some use to myself, my family and my country.
Do you have a family?
Of course. I’ve got my mum and my brothers. I’m divorced from my wife. I don’t have any children.
And in all that time, did you ever think about stopping?
I always tried, but I couldn’t manage it. It was the same thing over and over and over again.
I know very little, of course, about life in prison, but when you have so many relapses, you simply get used to being in prison and that becomes your whole world.
So I came out of a high-security prison, the maximum security one, as they say, a real repeat offender. It was like a mental reset. I walked free a year and a half early, even though I could have served the rest of my sentence as comfortably as sitting in a warm bath. And I’d had enough of those bars, of everything that surrounded me in there. I decided to change my outlook on life. Although I used to think exactly the opposite: if anyone were to go to this war, I’d be the last in line. But now I’m even proud of myself for having changed my mind. I realise that storming is the most dangerous thing there is. But my life hasn’t been an easy one anyway. In the past, I’ve had many different experiences that were very much like a game of cards. I don’t mind giving up my life — I’ve already lived it.
Is this, perhaps, a way for you to atone for your sins?
Perhaps so. I’ve come to prove to my family and to my country that I’m capable of doing something with my life, not just sitting in prison, playing cards and getting up to no good. I can still serve my country towards the end of my life.
Did you have a certain status in prison because you’d spent so much time there?
I did, but we won’t be talking about that.
How do you define an enemy for yourself? Do you feel any anger?
Of course! I sum them up in one word — F# GGOTS.
Have you already imagined your first encounter with the enemy?
Yes. I’m always devising tactics and strategies for myself, thinking things through and imagining different scenarios. I’m undergoing training here to strengthen myself and my spirit. Very soon, we’ll be facing the enemy on the battlefield.
Could it happen that you might want to jump ship from this new life of yours?
At the moment, I haven’t had any such thoughts at all. And I don’t want to go to prison—not in a million years. So I’ll try to stay on the straight and narrow and not slip up.
Have you thought about the AWOL?
No, not at all.
Tell us a bit more about your life in prison.
I’ve been in prison practically since I was a ‘youngster’. I was 17, ‘turned 18’ in prison, and then it was one sentence after another. I played cards, took drugs, spent time in solitary confinement – a lot of it – and refused to do anything; they charged me under Article 391 (Article 391 of the Criminal Code – wilful disobedience of lawful orders from the administration of a penal institution). That sort of thing – I’d break the rules bit by bit, and that’s how I lived.
And you couldn’t stop?
No. I actually liked that sort of lifestyle, and I had good mentors. That’s why I felt on top of the world. I was in my element there.
I gradually began to forget about drugs. I’d been shooting up and using them for a long time… But that’s not exactly something I can be proud of. Still, I’m not ashamed. I’m used to telling the truth in life. Because if you do something, there’s no point in being ashamed of it afterwards. If you don’t want to be ashamed — then don’t do it.
How are you treated in the group? Is there any special respect because you’ve served a longer sentence?
It all depends on how a person carries themselves, not on who’s served a longer sentence or what they’ve been up to. This is the army; we’re different here and don’t live by those kinds of notions.
When the decision was made to recruit former prisoners into the army, there was a lot of debate in society, and fear that the criminal contingent would undermine discipline. What do you think about that? Was the decision to launch this programme the right one?
Yes, of course. Society has developed a misconception about prisoners. We’re people just like everyone else. I’m not talking about maniacs, paedophiles or rapists of any kind — I take a firm stance on that and always have. But in all other cases, they are normal, sensible people with sound minds — people who want to defend their homeland and hold their ground here on the front line, rather than in the rear. That’s why I believe people are being unfair in their attitude towards the criminal contingent. All the more so because the criminal underworld has its advantages: they’re hardened, they’re more cunning, they’re more resilient. And they’re up to the task of this war. That’s why I think we’ll win it sooner with such a contingent. And as for the rest, well, whatever God wills. It’s just that many are running away — their own goals, plans… well, that sort of thing. And civilians aren’t exactly saints either; even those who go to fight from free world are fleeing in droves. So it comes down to this: it’s everyone’s own choice. But I’m not in a position to judge them, because I haven’t been there (in the free world) myself.
What do you plan to do after the war?
I’ll get married, I reckon; I’ll still have time. I want to see my mum, give her a hug. She’s 76; she’s waiting for me, she loves me. There’s no one in the world dearer to me than my mum. I love her very much and dream of coming home, hugging her and just sitting in the room, chatting with her. It’s such a modest wish, but it means the world to me.
Iryna Sampan
Editor — Kateryna Kader
The ‘In the Line of Fire’ project
