Captivity and occupation: the story of a girl from Izium who hid from the Russians in a sofa, and her boyfriend from "Azovstal" who was captured

Until seven months ago, Anastasiia Buhera from Izium was living an ordinary student life. The 21-year-old girl was part of the student league team, a member of the Ukrainian Bar Association, and an organizer of legal events in Kharkiv. This summer, she was supposed to finish her studies at the university where she studied at the reserve officers' faculty.

Buhera came to her parents in Izium for the winter holidays. She delayed her return to Kharkiv due to the outbreak of COVID-19. A full-scale war caught her in Izium. While under temporary Russian occupation, the girl found out that her boyfriend, a defender of "Azovstal", was in Russian captivity.

About the crimes of the Russians, life in the occupation, and her struggle for her boyfriend's release — Anastasiia Buhera in a conversation with Svidomi.

It all started on the night of February 28: Anastasiia celebrated her birthday during the first mass shelling of Izium. The Russians hit a civilian building and a supermarket. The last day of winter was the last day when the city had lights and heating.

The March snow, freeze both outdoors and in the house.

"We slept dressed up, under several blankets, in three pairs of warm socks and a jacket next to us: if the shelling started, we would quickly run to the basement," says Anastasiia Buhera.

A few weeks later, the Russians bombed Izium from airplanes. The girl remembers: in less than an hour, they could hear at least ten air bombs exploding. That day, March 3, eight people, including two children, died.

Electricity went out, cellphone service went down. Izium was under constant Russian shelling — the city lived mainly in basements.

"We knew nothing. At all. We had to go to the well for water. Some people brought bread and humanitarian aid," says Buhera.

However, at the end of March, when people were receiving bread and flour, the Russian military fired at the queue. According to the girl, many civilians were killed, including children, adults, and the elderly.

People were running out of necessities: there was not enough fuel, medicines, and food. The most strategic thing was to have yeast: you can bake bread that saves you from hunger.

"After every meal, my mother told us to eat our fill because we didn't know when the next opportunity would be," the girl shares.

On March 12, the Russians gained a foothold in the northern part of Izium. The artillery shelling did not stop, on the contrary, they kept destroying the city more and more.

"There was a lot of shooting. It was scary to leave the house because a shelling could start. However, even a trip to the basement could be the last. One family was running from the house to the basement during the shelling but did not have time and died; only a 4-year-old boy survived," says Anastasiia Buhera.

The part of Izium where Anastasiia Buhera's family lived was occupied by Russia in early March. The fighting lasted for about a month: the Russians almost destroyed the city for refusing to surrender. By the end of March, Izium was fully occupied. From the first day of the temporary occupation, the armed military of the Russian Federation began to go around the locals’ houses looking for people connected to the army.

"Follow my command, do what I tell you," said dad and led me to the hall. There was a sofa. He cut a wooden rail for it so that I could fit in at full height. When the Russians came to our house, my father shouted: "Hide, get into the sofa!", says Buhera.

Days in the occupation passed in the same way. Buhera says they woke up at approximately 5 a.m. from the howitzer shots two kilometers from the house. The howitzer was nicknamed the "Rooster" because it woke people up. They were running errands, taking breaks to go for water. At this time, the shelling was continuous. They went to bed at 9 p.m. — wanted to finish the day as soon as possible.

"Occupation is pure fear and uncertainty. You don't know when and where they might hit. We woke up and fell asleep to the sound of the aircraft. Whoever heard the plane first warned the others," says Anastasiia Buhera.

Over five months of temporary occupation, hundreds of residents died from Russian bombings, poor living conditions, or torture. On September 23, the exhumation from the mass burial was completed in the liberated Izium — 447 bodies were found, including children.

Russian shells were falling everywhere; one of them fell opposite Buhera's house. The glass from the window cut her leg.

"Four stitches were applied. Now I will forever have a mark from the Russian military on my leg," says the girl.

"On the day I was to leave Izium, the Russians fired at one of the evacuation columns. We had to postpone the evacuation because it was scary," says Anastasiia Buhera.

She managed to leave on July 17.

"My parents drove me to the first point in a car. Then I crossed the dam on foot and was met by representatives of the Ukrainian Red Cross on the other side. They checked me and took me to Kharkiv," says Buhera.

Soon after her departure, the girl's parents also left Izium. A few days before that, the Russians had been putting pressure on Buhera's mother, forcing her to work as a teacher in a Russian school.

Buhera met her boyfriend Kostiantyn (the girl refuses to give his last name and military rank for security reasons — ed.) in the first year of the university's military department. In six months, a romance began. Later, the man dropped out of university and signed a contract with the Armed Forces.

On February 24, he was in Mariupol — he went there in early February on military matters. He was supposed to be there for no more than three months but stayed to protect the city. Kostiantyn's unit defended the Illich Steel and Iron Works. Some soldiers were captured, but he managed to transfer to Azovstal. For over 80 days, the Ukrainian military held the defense of Mariupol.

At the end of April, Anastasiia Buhera found a place with cellphone service. Only then did she find out that her boyfriend was in surrounded Mariupol under constant fire.

"I felt pain, I wanted to scream. Kostia sent me several videos and audios that he had recorded earlier: "I am alive, glad to have access to the Internet. I'll be back no matter what," were his words. I know he is very strong, but his voice was shaking then. In the video, the man said he was in Azovstal where there was almost no food and water. As well as the strength — the military was losing consciousness from hunger.

On May 16, the defenders were ordered to leave the plant, they were captured by the Russians with a guarantee of exchange and preservation of their lives. On September 21, Ukraine returned 188 Azovstal defenders from Russian captivity. Kostiantyn was not among those released.

On September 24, it had been exactly five months since Kostiantyn could be reached out to. Once in the territory under the control of Ukraine, Anastasiia Buhera began to fight for the opportunity to get at least some information about her boyfriend.

"I wrote to the Red Cross and representatives of the Ukrainian authorities regarding his place of stay and condition; still no answer. He is on the list of POWs and is probably in Olenivka,” she adds.

The relatives have seen the guy in several Russian propaganda videos — and that's all.

"That's how we know he's alive. He is very thin and injured: his head is bandaged, and bruises are visible. It is enough to watch the interviews of released soldiers to be sure that Russian captivity is pain, pressure, and torture," says Anastasiia Buhera.

Besides Kostiantyn, about two thousand Ukrainian defenders from Azovstal are in Russian captivity.

"Parents still don't know what's going on with their children; wives and sisters are asking to rescue their loved ones from captivity. I text and call Kostia all the time, but his number has been out of reach for more than 5 months. We must fight for everyone who protected us at the cost of their lives."