The Petrenko family experienced the full-scale war right from their home. Russian planes often flew so low over their house that their numbers were visible. A month into the intense conflict, 10 men from the “DNR” came to their house in vans and an SUV, faces masked and wearing armbands. They rummaged through the house, searching for Andriy’s uniform and a laptop containing information about the Anti-Terrorist Operation (ATO) and photos of its participants. They also seized tools from the yard, various household items, and vegetables.

Andriy was taken to their command post for 40 days. Throughout this time, his wife Margarita didn’t know anything about his whereabouts, causing her great distress. This was particularly worrying as he had served in the East in 2015-2016. Even after Andriy’s return, where the Russians had taken him remained a mystery. He returned disheveled, thinner and wearing tattered military clothes. The marks of beatings had nearly vanished, but at 56, he struggled to stand on one leg. For the following year and a half, he became silent and isolated.

Before the war, Grandmother Margarita was a village librarian. Despite the rise of digital media, the library was a popular spot for local children, where they played with puzzles and toys and studied together. This modest cultural hub soon fell under the scrutiny of the “Russian world.” Ukrainian books were removed and stored away, branded as demeaning and extremist literature about the Ukrainian Insurgent Army (UPA) and ATO. Margarita covertly moved these books to her home for safekeeping, even listing them under the names of people who had moved away or died, to smuggle them out without raising suspicion. Yet, the Russians swiftly restocked the library with their propaganda about Moscow, Russia, and displayed Putin’s portraits, the Russian constitution, anthem, and tricolors. Unable to tolerate such insult, Margarita resigned.

However, the Russians continued to harass her. They took her to the village council for interrogation, questioning her disdain for the Soviet Union. Following the interrogation, they confiscated her phone and only returned her Ukrainian passport. As soon as she arrived home, other soldiers forced her out of her house. They transported her towards a nearby village, stopping midway to threaten her in a field.

Russian soldiers routinely raided the Petrenko’s home, jumping fences, inspecting documents and phones, and searching the house. The family was constantly coerced into acquiring Russian documentation, with the implicit threat of losing their child. Olena, their daughter, recalls with horror the Russians’ forced “referendum” in their village, where people were intimidated into voting at gunpoint. Artemko, the young grandson, was petrified of the Russians, often crying and hiding at their arrival, distressed by their disruption of his toys.

While Andriy declined a Russian passport, Margarita was compelled to obtain one for employment. Olena was forced to go to Simferopol for the same reason, enduring degrading procedures like fingerprinting and eye scans. Artemko was enrolled in a Russian kindergarten. Eventually, the Petrenkos could no longer bear the situation and reached out for help to flee the occupation. When our volunteers arrived, Artemko was terrified to leave the house, but they managed to safely escape to Ukraine.

Upon reaching our center, four-year-old Artemko kissed the Ukrainian flag and asked his mother to write “I am Ukrainian”. As the adults conversed, he wandered around saying, “Glory to Ukraine!” and “Glory to the heroes!”.

Now, Artemko, his mother, and his grandmother are safe but face a long journey to recover from their experiences.

P.S. For safety reasons, all names have been changed.