86 Days of Fighting in Encirclement and Years in Captivity: The Wife of an Azov Soldier Speaks About the Struggle for Her Beloved

86 Days of Fighting in Encirclement and Years in Captivity
86 Days of Fighting in Encirclement and Years in Captivity
© Collage: Oksana Hladkevych
Kostiantyn Golubtsov

Kostiantyn Golubtsov

Published: September 18 2025 at 07:28 pm
Source: Oleksandra Plakina

For the fourth year, the families of prisoners of war have been doing everything possible to draw attention and finally bring their loved ones home.

Mariupol became one of the key symbols of the beginning of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine.

From the first days of February 2022, the city was under blockade and constant shelling. Despite the overwhelming superiority of the enemy, Ukrainian defenders held out for 86 days. The longest battles raged at the Azovstal plant, where Azov fighters, marines, border guards, and other units remained in extremely harsh conditions.

In May 2022, following orders from Ukraine’s military-political leadership, the defenders of Azovstal laid down their arms and left the plant to save the lives of the personnel. However, in violation of all agreements, the Russians have been holding the Mariupol garrison captive for four years now.

Among them is the husband of Yuliia — Serhii. Večerniy Kyiv spoke with the wife of the Azov fighter about their first meeting, his service, her expectations, and her fight to bring him back from Russian captivity.

Yuliia during a weekly rally in support of prisoners of war and the missing. Photo: Anastasiia Stupak
Yuliia during a weekly rally in support of prisoners of war and the missing. Photo: Anastasiia Stupak

“We met in 2015 on VKontakte”

Yuliia recalls how they first connected:

“We met back in 2015 on the social network VKontakte. I had just returned from a patriotic training camp at Sokil Space and one evening I was scrolling through their feed. I saw Serhii’s page in the recommendations — we had mutual friends, including his commander, whom I met during training. He seemed like a nice guy, so I sent him a friend request.”

Their communication started actively, paused for a while, but later resumed and grew into a strong relationship.

“The first thing I asked him was about his call sign. He was surprised, and we later joked that I might be a Russian agent. That autumn, he congratulated me on my birthday, then we stopped talking for a while — but soon resumed. At that time, he and his comrades were stationed near Donetsk Airport in Vodiane. I decided to prepare a New Year’s surprise for them,” says Yuliia.

At that time, Serhii served in the volunteer unit Carpathian Sich, which later became part of the 93rd Brigade. Just before New Year’s, Yuliia came to see him and brought sweet gifts for him and his comrades.

“That’s when we finally met face-to-face. When I returned home, he asked me to be his girlfriend, and since 2016 we were always together. After serving his contract with the 93rd Brigade, he tried civilian life for a while, but adaptation was difficult. Since the war continued, he decided to return to service,” his wife recalls.

Yuliia suggested he join the Azov Regiment. In 2018, Serhii went to Mariupol for training.

“I always supported and will always support his choice. It was clear that this is where he truly saw himself. His psychological state was also much better in service than in civilian life,” she emphasizes.

The couple lived in Mariupol for over two years. On the eve of the full-scale invasion in 2022, Serhii insisted that Yuliia leave the city.

Serhii during his service. Photo provided by the defender’s wife
Serhii during his service. Photo provided by the defender’s wife

“On February 22, I left Mariupol”

“In early February 2022, they were increasingly kept at the base, sometimes for weeks. He was constantly called back from home, even in the middle of the night. By the 20s of February, Serhii urged me more strongly to leave Mariupol. He said while there was still a chance to leave safely, I should do it — otherwise, later it would be impossible or only with a few belongings,” she recalls.

On February 22, Yuliia left for her mother’s in Zaporizhzhia region. In the first days of the invasion, they stayed in touch. He switched SIM cards depending on which networks still worked in Mariupol.

“Sometimes we had no connection for weeks. I mostly learned news in ‘women’s chats.’ If someone’s husband managed to call, the wives shared information: who was seen, heard, or injured — because there were casualties. Later, the guys used Starlink, but even that worked one day and didn’t the next,” says Yuliia.

On May 16, Serhii sent her a post by Hanna Maliar announcing the “evacuation” from Azovstal.

“He asked if I understood what awaited them. I said yes. On May 17, he walked out. I only asked him if he would be with his comrades. He named their call signs — I knew their wives too, so we could stay in touch,” she recalls.

During the “evacuation,” he destroyed everything — his phone, watch, and other items. He deliberately did not leave her phone number anywhere, asking her only to keep contact through the commander’s wife and follow the news.

Later, news confirmed that they were taken to Olenivka. Yuliia saw one short video and a few photos — and that was all. Then came the terrorist attack at Olenivka.

“That morning, I woke up to a flood of messages. Then my father called. Nobody knew anything for sure, but Serhii’s name wasn’t on the lists of wounded or dead,” she recalls.

Years in Russian prisons

In the fall, part of the fighters were moved to Donetsk detention center. Since then, all of Yuliia’s information about her husband has come only from released comrades.

“I was told he was first in Donetsk SIZO, then Horlivka, back to Donetsk, and now in Kirovske. I only know this from freed prisoners. I’ve done everything I could — contacted state authorities, international organizations. All the letters I wrote never reached him — I know that for sure,” she says.

She regularly updates all his information in the Coordination Headquarters database for POWs herself.

“Everywhere we hear the same response: ‘The situation is difficult, but we are working.’ Since Russia labels Azov as a terrorist organization, it’s much harder to bring the guys home — they use them as bargaining chips,” Yuliia explains.

Conditions vary depending on the place of detention. In some occupied territories, they are slightly better than in Russia, but Geneva Conventions are still ignored.

Despite the UN and Red Cross being mediators in the “evacuation,” Russia later restricted their access to Ukrainian POWs. Instead, there have been documented cases of torture, forced testimonies for sham trials, lack of medical care, and the return of tortured bodies.

Serhii in Russian captivity. Photo provided by the defender’s wife
Serhii in Russian captivity. Photo provided by the defender’s wife

“We cannot let the world forget”

“For us, the families of POWs, it’s crucial to keep speaking out, to show that our defenders are still in captivity. If you think about it — it was a huge feat. 86 days of fighting in complete encirclement, under airstrikes, without enough food, water, or ammunition. They fought for their lives, saving us. We cannot allow everyone to suddenly forget about them. That’s why we will keep organizing rallies, events, sports activities — to keep them in the public eye and remind society and the authorities that we will not be silent,” says Yuliia.

She stresses that families will fight until the very last defender returns home.

“I know people sometimes say: ‘This is Russia, nothing will change.’ But there’s a phrase that perfectly describes it: until someone experiences such a situation themselves, they don’t care. But once it touches them, they will search for every possible way,” she concludes.

Yuliia at weekly rallies. Photo provided by the defender’s wife
Yuliia at weekly rallies. Photo provided by the defender’s wife


Read also:

A Farmer from Kherson Who Defended His Fields with a Shotgun Awarded the Title of Hero of Ukraine

Ukrainian Artist Wins Award at the XV Florence Biennale 2025

Photographer and Marine Konstantyn Huzenko Killed in Action on the Frontline

“What it will really be like”: soldier Dmytro Demshyn explains why motivational mobilisation posts don’t work

The Story of Vasyl Stus in LEGO: A Schoolboy Created an English-Language Animated Film About the Ukrainian Poet

From journalism to nursing: a Ukrainian woman's work experience in a Czech hospital

Timothy Snyder Awarded the 2025 Vasyl Stus Prize – Ceremony Held at Ukrainian PEN