Dmytro and Diana have been together since they were teenagers. In 2022, they were separated by captivity: she fought for him on the outside, and he dreamed of proposing to her in captivity. This is their story

Dmytro and Diana met as teenagers — he was 15 and she was 16. They are both originally from Kropyvnytskyi, met in the company of local youth, became fast friends, and soon began dating. It was 2017.

“We were walking together, and I noticed that Diana was showing mutual attention to me. And I was the first to suggest to date. Our relationship grew along with us. When I joined the army, I knew for sure that we would be together. I signed a three-year contract and was sure — as soon as it ended, we would get married,” recalls Dmytro.

After school, Dmytro entered college, studied law, and planned to go on to a bachelorʼs degree, but realized that it wasnʼt for him. Dmytro was attracted to something else, in particular, military service. Without thinking twice, he signed a contract. He decided to join the Marine Corps — thatʼs where he was most drawn.

"I was worried about how my decision would affect my relationship with Diana. But I knew her and was sure that she would wait [for me]. Indeed, Diana supported me," Dmitry says.

By February 24, 2022, Dmytro had served only four months. First, he underwent basic training, then his unit was sent to Mariupol. Then, professional training was supposed to begin, but a full-scale invasion changed everything. The last time Dmytro was home was on January 1 — he took three days off to celebrate the New Year with his grandparents and Diana.

Dmytro was in military service before the full-scale war.

З особистого архіву Дмитра Чорного / «Бабель»

З особистого архіву Дмитра Чорного / «Бабель»

After that, they communicated only online, and this continued almost until Dmytroʼs capture.

For the next three long years, his family did everything possible to speed up the exchange. His grandmother and Diana went to the actions in Kropyvnytskyi every Sunday. Diana attended all the official meetings, communicated with the released comrades, and collected the slightest news about him. For Dmytro himself, these years passed in isolation — he tried to isolate himself from the past so as not to break down.

Now he is home, has undergone initial rehabilitation, and is ready to talk about his experiences. The following text is his direct speech.

1

I met February 24th in Mariupol. My family stayed at home, in Kropyvnytskyi. From the beginning, I was acting as a driver. At first, it seemed that the situation was under control — the cars were working, and we could move relatively freely. Our unit held the outskirts of the city, but over time we began to lose ground — the enemy was rapidly approaching.

I didnʼt want my family to know what is really happens. I understood that the news didnʼt show much, and I thought that was right. I was especially worried about my grandparentsʼ health. Through Diana, I told them that I was fine. I always reported what I had eaten. I even wrote that they had eaten borscht.

In the end, we found ourselves in a triple ring, and our ammunition supply was no longer coming to us. But we held out until the last. As the Russians got closer, the shelling intensified — we began to abandon our positions and gradually retreat to the factories. Our unit moved to “Azovmash”. From there we could still fire, but the enemy pressed with numbers and air strikes. If it werenʼt for the aviation and if we had been supplied with ammunition, we would have held out much longer.

When we tried to break out of the factory, we were covered with fire. It was impossible to leave in an organized way, the column was shot immediately. At that time, I fought with the realization that I would not survive. I considered myself a suicide soldier. But I had to hold out as long as possible — for the sake of the city, for the sake of the country.

When our vehicles were out of order due to numerous damages, I joined the infantry. There was no other option. The shelling became denser — missiles, airdrops, artillery. Many of my close comrades died. I never moved slowly, always only by running. I did not take off my bulletproof vest, I ran according to all the rules of an infantryman — machine gun near my face, close to the wall. I immediately understood where a shell might fall, calculated how best to get around it. I counted my steps. Perhaps this is what saved me. Many times it fell right next to me, but not even cover me with soil.

The last time I spoke to Diana was on April 2, 2022. It was a regular SMS — I wrote that I was fine, that I was not hungry. These were such control messages. We didnʼt say anything else, we just knew that we were both alive.

To write, I had to run to a certain point between buildings where I could get wifi — it was an area that was constantly being shot at. Over time, this road turned into a real "road of death". And then I decided that I would rather sacrifice contact with my family in order to save my life. I was so focused on the fighting that I didnʼt even think about being captured.

Like the fact that I wonʼt hear from my family for another three years.

2

We were taken prisoner without humiliation or intimidation — the soldiers who captured us followed the rules of war. Later, we were transported to Olenivka. Everything was different there — we were met by employees from different colonies and pre-trial detention centers in Russia. Mildly speaking, it was “funny”. And then we were taken to Russia. All this took three or four days. During my three years of captivity, I changed six colonies.

But I never got used to being in captivity. They simply destroyed the marines and “Azov” fighters there, and they treated the others more leniently. There were a few guys from other brigades near me, mobilized ones — they paid almost no attention to them. But as soon as they found out that you were a marine or an “Azov” soldier, they started to restrict you in everything.

To keep from going crazy, I read books, listened to radio lectures, and sewed. But sewing was only allowed in secret, because it was forbidden. We carved our own needles from chicken bones, and twisted the threads into a thin, sharp “blade”, similar to a garrotte — we could even use it to cut something.

Medical care was bad. You had to beg for it for several days, and then they could ragequit on you. I had problems with my blood pressure and heart even before the war, but I never went to the doctors in any colony — I was afraid that they would only make things worse. The colonies are very unsanitary — even a simple scratch can turn into a serious wound. The most they will do is inject you with painkillers.

During the entire time of captivity, I was able to write a letter home twice, but only one arrived. I also received several letters from my family. This opportunity was usually given during inspections conducted by the Russian Human Rights Ombudsman. During these days, they temporarily stopped beating us, treated us “humanely”, and even changed our nutrition. It was a show. As soon as the inspection left, everything started again.

My relatives learned about me from those who had already been exchanged. It was only in September 2024 that they received my letter. And already in 2025, I was allowed a five-minute video call with Diana. It was organized by volunteers — they came to record interviews with the prisoners. Our conversation with Diana was recorded and included in this interview.

In captivity I tried to forget my family and all of civilian life. It helped me not to go crazy. The only thing that I couldnʼt forget was Diana. I kept thinking about how I wanted to propose to her when I got back.

They told me then — if you want to see your beloved, give an interview. I understood perfectly well what his message would be. I could have refused, of course. But I really wanted to see Diana. They said to me to say everything I think about. But, in addition to the volunteers, there were colony employees sitting around. I knew — now they were calm and silent, but as soon as those "disgruntled volunteers" leave, I would be responsible for my every word.

My cellmate was forced to cry in front of the camera during such an interview. It was important to them that we — the Ukrainian military — looked weak, to discredit our country. We were constantly told that Ukraine did not want us, that no one needed us. But I was not angry with my country. I understood that the Russians were asking too much for the marines and the "Azov soldiers". We were a trump card for them. And they had one goal for us — to cripple us both physically and psychologically.

Many people broke down in captivity. Some lost their minds, some cut their wrists. People didnʼt understand how to survive.

3

Before the exchange, the attitude towards us had improved. Now we were only “receiving” for gross violations — it was obvious that there was a team from above. We began to receive volunteer packages: Ukrainian soap, shaving foam, razors. This had not happened before 2025, and we did not even imagine that it was possible. But we were not waiting for an exchange, but for another inspection.

On the day of the exchange, we were changed and put in order. Among the employees there was one “kind person” — a person who really treated the Ukrainian prisoners well. He was the first to ask if we wanted to go home, hinting that we were being prepared for the exchange. But I didn’t believe it — I thought we were just being transferred again. For me, this would have been the seventh transfer.

We were put in motorcades, then on a plane. After a few hours of travel, we heard the command: "Take the bags off your heads." They began to untie our hands. I got out of the plane and saw the buses. Thatʼs when I realized that this must be an exchange. Tears immediately came to my eyes. My friend, with whom we had signed a service contract, was standing next to me. We had been through a lot together, but at some point in captivity we were separated. We stood side by side, looked at each other, and almost cried.

Then I only remember standing on Ukrainian land. I didnʼt immediately realize that this was freedom. I called Diana almost immediately — as soon as we left the exchange site. I spoke to my grandparents when we arrived at the hospital. There were no restrictions — you could talk to anyone and as much as you wanted. I was exchanged on my birthday. I wasnʼt just talking into the phone, I was screaming with happiness.

We met with the family the next day. It was only 15 minutes, but we spent the following weekend together. Physically I feel good. But psychologically it’s more difficult. It takes time. I have good psychologists — Diana took care of that.

Then something happened that I had been thinking about even in captivity — a marriage proposal. I imagined this moment down to the smallest detail. But everything turned out differently. Diana wanted to surprise me — she invited her friends to meet me after I was discharged from the hospital. My friends found out about it and immediately warned me. I went to buy an engagement ring. When I returned to my native city Kropyvnytskyi, I began to think about what exactly I would say, and in which way it would be better to express my feelings.

For this, we arrived at the central square of the city. I try to remember everything I wanted to say. A crowd greets us, my friend starts filming. I turn to Diana, and suddenly all the words just fly out of my head. Without hesitation, I take out my wedding ring and ask for her hand in marriage. Diana did not expect this, but she said "yes".

We are not thinking about a big wedding yet. I just finished rehabilitation, and we both understand that very well. But we will soon submit an application to the registry office and believe that we will register marriage in the near future. We don’t want to waste time. This year will be eight years since we were together.