Ten years ago, Halyna lost her first husband in Ilovaisk. In 2022, her second husband was captured in Mariupol — and returned only three years later. This is their story

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Halynaʼs first husband was killed in August 2014. Together with his comrades, he was leaving the "green corridor" from Ilovaisk, and their column was fired upon. When this happened, Halyna was pregnant — it was their second child. She recognized her husband by the phone she had given him shortly before. Halyna did not have time to mourn the loss — she was organizing a funeral, drawing up documents. At home, she tried to restrain her emotions and protect herself so as not to harm her unborn child.

The youngest son Rostyslav was born a few months after the funeral. The eldest son Andriy was ten years old. He had health problems from birth and was having a hard time dealing with his fatherʼs death. Halyna was afraid that her son would get into bad company, so after the ninth grade she sent him to study at the "Zakhysnyk" lyceum — the important aspect there was discipline. After the lyceum, Andriy entered the electrical engineering faculty of Zaporizhzhia University. However, he always felt that he was drawn to the military.

The children gradually grew up, found friends and new hobbies — this was the most important thing for Halyna. After difficult times, her life gradually became better.

Halyna started volunteering. She wove camouflage nets, collected humanitarian aid, and helped the military. This work brought her together with her future husband — Oleksandr Vovk. At first, they only met briefly, but began spending a lot of time together in 2019, when the Covid pandemic began. Together, they delivered medicine and food to low-income families and the sick. Thatʼs how they became friends.

Oleksandr was an ATO veteran and a widower. He had children from his first marriage: three sons and a daughter. The man built a civilian life, but constantly helped the military.

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Oleksandr Vovk went to serve in 2014. At first, he simply joined the Zaporizhzhia Territorial Defense Forces. His eldest son Pavlo ended up on the front lines, and it was from his son’s stories that Oleksandr realized that a real war was going on. He couldn’t understand how it was that “a child is fighting, but I’m not”. So he went to the military registration and enlistment office and was going to sign a contract, but he was refused: if there was already one soldier in the family, they wouldn’t take others. Then he went as volunteer. While his son Pavlo was fighting in the Donetsk and Luhansk regions, Oleksandr was near Mariupol.

A year later, Oleksandr returned home, and a year later, his eldest son returned. Oleksandr felt awkward in civilian life, he was constantly drawn to the army. But his wife asked him to stay home, so he switched to volunteering. He worked in the field post office: he received parcels from relatives of soldiers and took them to the front. Later, his wife got cancer, and he left this business to take care of her. But his wife died and Oleksandr began to help the army again.

It was then that he met Halyna.

On March 31, 2020, on Oleksandrʼs birthday, they started dating. For Halynaʼs children, he became almost like a father, and Oleksandrʼs children also warmly accepted his beloved woman. For two years they lived as a family, together. On the eve of the great war, Oleksandr, understanding the situation, planned to register at the military registration and enlistment office. And on the morning of February 24, together with his eldest son Pavlo, he stood at its door, ready to take up arms again.

Together they returned to the 55th brigade of the “Zaporizhzhia Sich”, the same one where they served in 2014. Halyna and her entire family remained in Zaporizhzhia.

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In February 2022, Oleksandr and his son went to Mariupol as part of a brigade. When the city was surrounded, their brigade withdrew to the territory of “Azovstal”, like most of the Ukrainian units in the city. For a while, Oleksandr and Pavlo contacted their relatives, but did not say that the situation was critical — on the contrary, they tried to calm them down.

Oleksandr delivered food and ammunition around the plant. There were food warehouses at “Azovstal”, but it was difficult to get to them due to constant shelling. Sometimes you had to clear away rubble to get to what you needed. Pavlo had a combat position. During the blockade of “Azovstal”, they both lost a lot of weight. Oleksandr was wounded. They didn’t tell their family about it, but instead they talked about some everyday trifles — how they made pies or heated coffee, using expensive alcohol instead of fuel.

The fighting for “Azovstal” continued until mid-May. On May 16, the Ukrainian garrison surrendered on orders from the top leadership. The Russians began the “evacuation” of the Ukrainian defenders, transferring them to prisons and filtration camps. On May 18, during their last conversation, Oleksandr told Halyna: “I will take great pains to return.” Since then, almost nothing has been known about him and Pavlo.

The only thing that gave Halyna hope during these years was that both the Ukrainian and Russian sides acknowledged that Oleksandr and Pavlo were in captivity. Sometimes she received testimonies from those who had been exchanged — they said that both were alive, but there was no more accurate information. Halyna saw the only one thing — how the others were returning, and how they were exhausted, wounded, and with serious illnesses.

The family stayed together all this time. They went to rallies, meetings of families of prisoners, and replaced each other at various events. Halynaʼs younger son drew pictures for Oleksandr — to give to him when he returned. Halyna experienced another loss — her older son Andriy died of illness.

Vovks family at an event in support of prisoners of war.

Архів Галини

Halyna and her son Rostyslav weave camouflage nets.

Архів Галини

In December 2024, she received a letter from Oleksandr for the first time in her life.

“The letter was short and very dry. He wrote everything he had to write. But I recognized his handwriting and was happy. The letter was dated August 2024,” recalls Halyna.

And then there was silence again.

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Oleksandr describes his captivity as follows: “Every time I heard footsteps in the corridor, I waited for the guards to enter the cell — for an inspection, interrogation, or another beating.” Later, things got a little easier — books began to be published, which helped them pass the days. But the hardest thing, as he recalls, was thinking about the good times — it was these thoughts that most often led to despair. “We envied the dead in captivity,” says Oleksandr.

During his almost three years of captivity, Oleksandr was transferred four times: first — to the colony in Olenivka, then — to the Taganrog pre-trial detention center, then — to the Kamyansko-Shakhtynsk correctional colony, and finally to the pre-trial detention center in Izhevsk. According to him, the worst was the Taganrog pre-trial detention center. While he was there, several prisoners were tortured.

In Olenivka, Oleksandr and Pavlo were in the same camp, but in different barracks. They only managed to see each other twice. Later, they were transferred to Taganrog. At first, Oleksandr did not know that his son was being held in the same pre-trial detention center. One of the guards, upon hearing their names, realized that they were father and son, and told Oleksandr about it. But they were not allowed to see each other.

Taganrog pre-trial detention center No. 2.

They were brought back to the same camp in Kamyansko-Shakhtynsk. So-called labor detachments were formed there, and Oleksandr was offered to transfer to the detachment where Pavlo was being held. But he refused.

"I understood that we would be beaten. I didnʼt want to see my son being abused. I also didnʼt want him to see me being beaten," says Oleksandr.

For almost two years, father and son lived in different barracks. Sometimes they saw each other in the dining room, where Pavlo worked as a cook. Only twice were they allowed to have brief meetings — five minutes each. They talked only about their family. Their paths no longer crossed in Izhevsk

All the prisoners were isolated from the outside world. They did not receive any news and did not know what was happening in Ukraine. The only thing they could see through the windows of the colony was columns of military equipment and flights of military aircraft. And they also felt firsthand how defiantly and cruelly the Russians behaved. This made it clear only one thing — the war was continues.

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On the day of the exchange, the soldiers thought they were being transported to another colony. Everything was as usual: humiliation, beatings, anonymity. Only when the plane landed in Gomel were the prisonersʼ hands untied and the blindfolds removed. They saw the bus, and for the first time the thought flashed through their minds that this could be an exchange.

"Until the last moment, we thought that the main thing was to get to the border [between Belarus and Ukraine]," recalls Oleksandr. Everyone was afraid that someone would be left behind, that everything would fall apart at the last moment. And only when they were given Ukrainian flags were they able to breathe a sigh of relief. "I could barely see the flag — my eyes were full of tears," says Oleksandr.

On the eve of the exchange, Halyna saw Oleksandrʼs name on the lists of prisoners who were planned to be released. These lists were published on Russian Telegram channels. At first, she didnʼt believe it. But the exchange did take place, the first exchanged people started calling home, and their relatives told other families. She understood: the people on the lists had really been exchanged.

"They started calling me, congratulating me. And I was just waiting for his call. Then I got a notification that Oleksandr had been exchanged. And later he called. His voice was shaking, I felt that he was crying. He says that he repeated my number every day so as not to forget," recalls Halyna.

All of Oleksandrʼs family and friends recognized him from the video of Ukrainian soldiers running across the border. He was one of the first to run, in uniform and holding the Ukrainian flag high.

The exchange took place on March 19. On the 29th, Oleksandr returned home, and his family saw him for the first time in over three years. Two days later, they all celebrated his 52nd birthday together.

"He looked exhausted and older. But time passed, and he became the same again. As handsome as ever. And it was as if those three years had never happened. Of course, his health after captivity was not the best, and there were still fragments from the wound — but he does not complain," recalls Halyna.

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After being captured, Oleksandr underwent rehabilitation. His back pain doesnʼt let him go, but overall he feels good. But being in the rear is psychologically harder for him. He is embarrassed to rest, order coffee in a cafe, or just sit at home while others are at the front. Sometimes he feels that he lacks adrenaline.

But now he is with his family. Only the eldest Pavlo is not around — he has not been exchanged yet: he has been in captivity for four years, and the family does not know exactly where he is being held. The middle and youngest sons also help the army, and the daughter is preparing to become a bride.

While still surrounded at “Azovstal”, Oleksandr promised Halyna that they would get married as soon as he returned, because their marriage was civil.

“I just wanted to show that I needed her,” he says. While waiting for Oleksandr to return from captivity, Halyna bought an embroidered wedding dress for herself and a shirt for him. They got married on April 19. The wedding was attended not only by their loved ones, but also by relatives of other prisoners with whom Halyna had become friends over the years — at rallies and meetings.

Now the family is not making plans for the distant future. They say: "Itʼs scary." But they know one thing for sure — they want to be together. All together.