Жовтень 2024 в Україні на фото

Volodymyr Nikulin is a policeman from the Main Department of the National Police in the Donetsk region and one of the main figures in the Oscar-winning documentary film «20 Days in Mariupol». He is the very person who enabled Mstyslav Chernov, Evgeniy Maloletka and Vasylysa Stepanenko’s team to escape from Mariupol and transport photo and video evidence of numerous Russian crimes - crossing about 15 checkpoints. In an interview with Sestry, Volodymyr talked about the tricks he used during the evacuation, his collaboration with renowned journalists, and how a packet of biscuits taught him that in life, everything returns: both good and evil.

«It was a blow to me how many of those I knew became traitors»

- I ended up in Mariupol after Donetsk, my home, was captured, - says Volodymyr Nikulin. - I have worked in law enforcement for over 30 years. I worked at the Donetsk Regional Police in 2014 during the epochal events. We were defending the Regional State Administration when there were attempts to seize it. I stayed in Donetsk even when it was almost captured. But in the summer of 2014, my family and I left our home. At that time, it was the only way to continue serving, which is very important to me.

It was especially difficult for me to accept that not all Ukrainian policemen left occupied Donetsk - not all remained loyal to their oath. I knew many of them personally, we served together. And they deliberately chose to become traitors.

Those who stayed in Donetsk switched to the enemy’s side. And those who did not betray ended up in Mariupol.

It is hard to talk about my home in Donetsk. I hope it is still standing. I have already left three homes: in Donetsk, Mariupol, and Myrnohrad. When we left Donetsk, I took nothing with me. I remember my summer mesh shoes, a uniform shirt with short sleeves. I did not even take trousers - I looked for a uniform at the place. But I had loyal comrades and a sense of freedom. Something that was no longer in Donetsk.

In Mariupol, we worked with a reduced team. Out of 120 employees of the regional police department, only 12 remained. When the police force was established, I, as a policeman, went through all the stages of lustration and re-certification. I often travelled to Avdiivka. I was amazed at how people lived there - under shellings. But they lived because there were still the state and freedom. Children played on the playgrounds, shops were open.

My comrade, after being wounded on the frontline, even bought a flat in Avdiivka. That is how much people loved their land and believed in victory

- Did you prepare for the full-scale war?

- In 2021, when we already had information from foreign intelligence that Russia was preparing, we also began our preparations. This helped us a great deal. In 2014, we lost a lot because we were unprepared and could not react quickly. In Mariupol, we did not allow that to happen again. For instance, the Russians did not get hold of any documents or cases when they occupied Mariupol. Nor did they seize any weapons. We had removed everything before the full-scale invasion began. There were also far fewer traitors than in Donetsk. We managed to maintain order as much as possible under such circumstances.

For us, Donetsk policemen, the war did not start in 2022 but in 2014. So, when I was woken at 5 AM on February 24th by my supervisor’s words, «combat alert», I understood everything immediately. It was painful to realise that the entire country was under attack.

«Every morning I prayed: just let the shells miss the building where my family is»

- What do you remember most about the first 20 days in Mariupol?

- I will never forget those days. Later, I will come to terms with them, or perhaps reassess them. But for now, I am still in the midst of the events. Do you hear? We are talking, but at the same time, there are explosions in the background. I am thinking about what to do and where to go after the shelling in Kramatorsk ends. There is no time to think about anything else. But I remember every day and every person who was with me.

The start of the large-scale war stands out in my memory as a creeping feeling of catastrophe. I could feel it in every cell of my body. Then I saw how the city began to be destroyed. The Russians were attacking Mariupol from all sides. We knew they desperately wanted it, but we resisted to avoid repeating Donetsk’s fate.

My wife and daughter decided to stay in Mariupol. My wife said: «I do not want it to be like in Donetsk. I do not want to flee anymore. I want to stay in my own home».

And every morning I would go to work, look at the building where my family remained, and fear that it was the last time I would see it intact

That was the most terrifying thing. Whenever there was shelling and explosions (and they were constant), I would think: «Please, just let it not hit the building where my family is».

As a policeman, I had a lot of work to do. First, I evacuated the documents. Then we gathered weapons, prepared materials for fortifications. And when the assault began, we helped people. The police stayed in the city until the very end. We delivered humanitarian aid, diapers, and found shelter for people. We connected people with doctors. At one point, we were already surrounded in the hospital. Before that, I had brought cookies to this hospital - round ones with fruit filling. And when we were hiding in the basement, the doctors brought us those very same cookies. That is how they came back to me.

- Do you regret staying in Mariupol for so long?

- Actually, I regret leaving. I really did not want to repeat the experience of my native Donetsk. Many people remained in Mariupol. They needed help. Mariupol was surrounded, bombed, and attacked. They did not give the locals a chance to leave the city. Everyone in Mariupol was then living on the edge - between life and death. Bombs from planes, missiles, artillery. Houses were burning down. The Russians deliberately destroyed everything to break the resistance.

They even hit the State Emergency Service (SES) headquarters so that rescuers could not help people. People died horrible deaths. For example, they hid in the basement of a building that was hit by shells, and they were buried under rubble. They could not get out. And there was no one to help - the SES was no longer operational. Doctors, under fire, were pulling people out. Heroes. And there are countless such stories. The number of victims was in the tens and hundreds of thousands. Civilians, children... Buried under rubble in basements. Later, the Russians did not bury the dead but simply took them somewhere.

We cannot even imagine what we will face when we liberate Mariupol…

«We looked at each other and understood - from now on, we would stick together»

- Do you remember how you met Mstyslav Chernov, Evgeniy Maloletka, and Vasylysa Stepanenko?

- We met during horrific events - when the Russians bombed the maternity hospital (March 9th 2022).

- I was impressed by this team. Mariupol was almost destroyed, and only the locals remained in the city. Then, I saw people with the word "Press" on their vests. They were wearing helmets and bulletproof vests. At first, I thought they were foreign journalists. To be honest, I was genuinely glad to see them. It was a somewhat selfish joy, but I am not ashamed because it gave me hope that what was happening to our city might become known to the world. The Russians are skilled at lying, and I was worried that they would conceal their crimes once again.

At first, I met Mstyslav. He said he was from Kharkiv. I asked: «How did you get here? Do you need any help?» He did not answer. We just looked at each other - and I understood that I would help them. Because it was necessary. Not just for them, but for me too. From that moment on, we were together.

The way they worked impressed me. Professional, precise, fearless. One of the most important tasks was sending the recorded materials. It was almost impossible under those conditions. Firstly, they had already become enemies in the eyes of the Russians. Secondly, there were very few places in the city with internet access. At first, we went to the city centre, where there was a Kyivstar base station. In the film, there are scenes of us arriving there, sitting under concrete stairs, while the Russians were bombing, and Mstyslav was sending the footage from his phone. When that location stopped working, we started going to the National Guard and Marine Corps command post, where there was a satellite network. It was a strategic site - policemen in uniform with guns. When we arrived to send the materials, everyone disconnected from the Wi-Fi at my request. They did not even ask questions. Everyone understood the importance of the information, which later influenced many around the world. In part, it contributed to the military aid we received.

«I did not know whether my smashed car would make it anywhere. But I started the engine - and we set off»

- We fought back as best we could. We celebrated every metre we reclaimed. When we managed to retake even one building, it felt like we had liberated the whole city.

On one side of the city, the Russians launched an attack on Mariupol from a hospital. I remember a sniper shot the head nurse in the neck. On the other side of the city, there was a tank assault. In one of the scenes in the film, a Russian tank hides behind a church. Then it came out and started shooting at buildings where people were sheltering.

A tank firing on civilians while hiding behind a church - that is Russia

I remember the eyes of the people who were hiding with us in the hospital. Among them were many elderly people and women, and they looked at us with pleading eyes, asking us to do something to stop them from being killed. I told everyone to stay away from the windows. I knew that if we tried to resist, we would all be shot. The Ukrainian Armed Forces special unit led us out of the encirclement. They saved us.

- When and how did you realise it was time to leave Mariupol?

- Events were unfolding rapidly. The Russians were not creating humanitarian corridors for Mariupol’s residents. On March 14th, people started trying to escape on their own. Security experts advised the journalists - Mstyslav, Evgeniy, and Vasylysa - to leave immediately. They began searching for ways out. I was not planning to leave Mariupol, but by then, we had become one team. Moreover, their first attempt to leave had failed. I felt that I had to stay with them until the end. So, I told them I would drive them out. And my family too.

Evgeniy Maloletka’s car, which the team drove into Mariupol on 24 February, was destroyed. My car had been smashed by «Grad» rockets, and none of the windows were intact. But it still moved. I did not know where it would take us. But I started the engine - and we set off. Now, part of my car is in a museum of journalism in Germany.

We took almost nothing with us. Just a small suitcase for my daughter and wife.

My packed things had been sitting in my flat since 2014 - I had never unpacked them

«My tricks worked because the soldiers at the checkpoints were inexperienced»

- We were travelling without knowing the way. I realised that it was not worth taking the main road. I had worked in criminal investigation, so I knew a few things. We headed towards the coast. But before that, we had to avoid the queue of cars in which others were leaving. There were long columns of vehicles waiting to exit. I knew we had to break through before sunset - only then did we have a chance to get the photos and videos out. So, I decided to shock people and suggested the following.

Mstyslav and Evgeniy, wearing helmets and bulletproof vests marked with Press, were running in front of our car. People saw journalists running, were shocked, did not know what was happening, and made way for us. Then Evgeniy sat on the car’s hood. This was also a way of attracting attention, and people let us through. That is how we made our way through the city. It was a huge risk. But the plan worked.

On the way, we passed through many checkpoints. If the Russians had checked even one of our bags, we would have been captured immediately. We had to ensure they did not search us. So, I acted like a detective. I distracted them. For example, at every checkpoint, I pulled out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes. Right in front of the occupiers, I would light up. This caught their attention. Then I would offer them cigarettes. They got distracted and let us through. This was just a small part of how I handled them. But it worked because the soldiers at the checkpoints were inexperienced. They were easier to deceive. It is frightening to think what could have happened if we had been stopped.

I remember a moment when we were driving in the evening without any lights, crossing the frontline. We turned off the headlights. At any moment, the column of vehicles we were moving with could have been shot at. That is how we passed through Polohy. Later, we reached another checkpoint where we were illuminated by a torch. And then I saw a soldier in a Ukrainian uniform. I got out of the car, approached him, and… hugged him. And he hugged me back. Without a word.

After that, we were stopped by the police, who checked our documents and the car. I was so full of adrenaline that I did not understand anything, but I felt a bit of relief. It is truly a miracle that we managed to escape.

- Do you dream of Mariupol?

- Not yet. I think the brain suppresses memories. Dreams happen when there is time for reflection. And I continue to serve in the Donetsk region. Wherever I am, I will continue to do so. Because this is my land…

Photos and videos from the hero’s private archive.

The first day of school for Ukrainian schoolchildren — September 2 — began to the accompaniment of Russian rockets. Instead of sweet sleep in their beds, the children were forced to flee to the bomb shelters, where they tried to get at least a little more sleep. But the enemy did not stop the attack, firing more than a dozen cruise missiles and about a dozen ballistic missiles at Kyiv alone. And in two days, the most tragic event in Lviv happened - during the attack, a whole family died - a mother and three daughters. But, despite this, Ukraine continues to live. Indomitable Ukrainians demonstrate their strength and power in dances, at exhibitions, on catwalks. Because the Russian enemy is unable to do one thing - break the spirit of Ukrainians.

Text: Natalya Ryaba

On September 7, demonstrators staged a protest in Prague, holding blue and yellow umbrellas. The participants of the rally called for effective air defense for Ukraine and to give it the opportunity to strike back. Demonstrators created a "map" of Ukraine using blue and yellow umbrellas.

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Students of the International Academy of Personnel Management watch as rescuers put out a fire in one of the buildings of the university after a rocket attack on Kyiv on September 2, 2024. While hiding in the bomb shelter, the students heard the whistling of rockets and explosions.

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Ukrainian military medics render aid to a wounded Ukrainian soldier at a stabilization point in the Chasiv Yar region on September 6, 2024.

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A Ukrainian servicewoman talks on the phone with her children. On September 13, Russia and Ukraine conducted another exchange of prisoners. 49 Ukrainians returned home — 23 women and 26 men. For the first time in a long time, it was possible to return the "Azovs" to Ukraine. The United Arab Emirates helped organize the exchange.

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Ukrainian schoolchildren sing the national anthem during the ceremony for the beginning of the new academic year in Lviv, September 2, 2024.

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September 4 became the most tragic for Lviv during the entire war. A mother and her three daughters were killed in the attack. Only the father remained alive. The whole city came to the funeral of the dead. As a result of shelling in Lviv, seven people died, 66 were injured. Also, 188 buildings were damaged, including 19 architectural monuments.

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A couple looks at posters depicting fallen Ukrainian soldiers of the Azov Brigade at an open-air exhibition in Kyiv on September 23, 2024.

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Freya Brown, a dog trainer in the British Army, with her military dog ​​Zac during a training session with Ukrainian army personnel, at a barracks in the East Midlands, U.K., September 10, 2024. Two years after invasion, large areas of Ukraine are covered in landmines and unexploded ordnance, including cluster munitions, and dogs play a key role in keeping soldiers and civilians safe.

Presentation of Veronika Danilova's collection as part of Ukrainian Fashion Week, September 1, 2024. The designer dedicated her collection called "Garden of the Clouds" to her homeland, inspired by memories of a Ukrainian garden and blossoming apple trees.

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After photographer Evgeniy Maloletka, videographer Mstyslav Chernov and fixer Vasylysa Stepanenko managed to escape the Russian-encircled Mariupol in mid-March 2022, their footage from the first 20 days of the occupation caused a massive global reaction.

Today, Evgeniy Maloletka holds more international and national awards than any other Ukrainian photographer - around 40. Notably, he is a Pulitzer Prize laureate for Public Service, a recipient of the James Foley Award for Conflict Reporting, and the Shevchenko and Georgiy Gongadze national prizes. He also won an Oscar for the documentary «20 Days in Mariupol». We spoke with Evgeniy about the feelings of futility when facing human indifference, the people who helped him escape from occupation, his ambitions to make it into history books and the strategies he uses to avoid burnout.

«Camera does not protect you»

Kseniya Minchuk: How did you start photographing the war?

Evgeniy Maloletka: Although I have a degree in electronic devices and systems engineering, photography captivated me during my student years. I worked for several editorial offices. In 2010, I went to cover the protests in Belarus. After that, I documented both sides of our revolution: the protests for and against Yanukovych, and then Maidan. I worked in conflict zones around the world, including various UN missions in Africa. Eventually, I found myself on the train that brought me to the war.

I am originally from Berdyansk. When I looked at the map and saw Russia intensifying its actions, I realised that a full-scale war was inevitable. And when you understand that something terrible, like war, is about to happen, you ask yourself: «Where do I want to be, and what do I want to do? Where do I need to be to make that happen?» Although when that «terrible» thing arrives, plans can break. But at the very least, you should be technically prepared, which is what I did.

From there, the most important thing is your knowledge and your ability to adapt quickly. The more you know and the faster you react, the more you can accomplish.

- One of the most heart-wrenching photos by Evgeniy Maloletka, and of the war in general, is the series from Mariupol where young parents rush to the hospital with their injured baby, only to learn that the child has died. It is unimaginably devastating. How do you cope with the pain you witness and capture with your camera? Is photography itself a method?

- Definitely not. The camera does not protect you. You keep looking at these people in the photos and you go through it with them. The faces of the parents, and later the doctors - you see the hope fade from their eyes... and that pain never leaves you, it stays with you forever. I live with it. Constantly. I had to learn how to coexist with it.

The footage from «20 Days in Mariupol» - is the pain that will stay with me for the rest of my life. I saw it live. I have rewatched the film many times, and now I do not cry anymore. But inside, the emotions are still incredibly heavy and intense.

For me, every photo of the war is the most terrifying. They are like flashbacks, like a dream. Like something that happened to someone else. But no - it happened to me.

I am constantly confronted with grief. I have to edit, show it to the world, look at the photos of other photographers. Human bodies, destroyed buildings, lives taken. These emotions are overwhelming. And there is still so much more horror I will have to capture.

Sometimes the things you did not capture are more terrifying

What keeps me going is the awareness that I am doing a small, yet important job. Hoping that it is not in vain. That the world will see it, remember it, because every photograph represents a human story. And it is crucial that we ourselves do not forget our own history. That is why I keep doing it.

- You have documented the protests against Yanukovych that led to his removal, the pandemic and now the war. Do you see your work as an important mission?

- Sometimes it is disappointing when photos get little attention. But other times, a story I captured goes viral. The more you work and the more your photos are seen and elicit a reaction, the stronger the sense that it is not in vain.

At least, I hope it is not.

I understand that only the things we remember will remain in history

We will remember people’s stories through the photos and videos that moved us. Only a small part of what has happened during this war will make it into history.

I hope the work we are doing will end up in books and textbooks so future generations can learn what our people went through and understand what war really is.

- Do you feel any satisfaction from what you do?

- That is a tough question. Yes and no. Because I photograph horrifying things that people do not want to see. And you force them to look. People, especially outside Ukraine, in Europe for example, mostly want to see positive things. Even here, we tend to think like that. If the strike hit the house next door and not ours - thank God! But in that neighbouring house, people died...

- Have there been moments when you could not bring yourself to photograph what was happening?

- Of course. There were times when I put the camera down and helped because no one else was around. If you see that you can help in some way, you do it.

«We went through 16 Russian checkpoints, and they let us through each one»

- You arrived in Mariupol an hour before the war started. Did you understand what you were getting into?

- Yes. It is impossible to predict every detail, but Mstyslav Chernov, Vasylysa Stepanenko and I knew that the city would likely be encircled. We went to Mariupol deliberately, to be surrounded. Consciously.

Of course, it was terrifying. We travelled at night, and it was eerily quiet and tense. We prepared for various scenarios and even joked that we were heading to the city that would become one of the starting points of World War III...

- How often were you under fire in Mariupol?

- Constantly. I would wake up in the morning at the hotel and go outside to film the building across the street because it had just been destroyed. There was no need to travel anywhere.

- You worked without electricity, water, the internet, and under constant danger. What decisions saved your lives?

- We were lucky in many ways, but some specific decisions and people truly saved our lives. There were tough moments when we barely escaped from areas that the occupiers had already surrounded.

For a while, we lived in a hospital that sheltered us. We became friends with the doctors, sleeping in the corridors where everyone had moved to avoid the shelling, and when necessary, we helped carry stretchers with the wounded. Then the building next to us was taken by the Russians. Tanks rolled out onto the streets. Their forces advanced, and aircraft were deployed. Street fighting raged around the hospital, and we were inside. Then our military came for us and said, «Pack up, we are running». And we ran with them. That saved us.

Another instance was when we finally got out of the encircled area, but I lost my car - it was destroyed. A police officer named Volodymyr offered to drive us out of Mariupol. He risked his life and the lives of his family to take us in his car, even though we had met just two days earlier.

His car was shot up, the windows were gone, but it was still drivable. He, his wife, and their child took the three of us (myself, Vasylysa, and Mstyslav) into their vehicle. And that is how we got out.

- Vasylysa told me this story, and I still can not grasp how you managed to pull it off…

- We passed through 15 or 16 Russian checkpoints, and at each one, they let us through. The occupiers had only just begun implementing their filtration process. Perhaps it helped that we did not take the same route as others. The truth is, you never know exactly what saved you. But if the Russians had found the footage we shot or realised we were Ukrainian journalists, we all would have suffered - us, and Volodymyr with his family.

One warrior does not make a battle

- There is a concept known as «survivor’s guilt», a feeling often experienced by those who fled the war and went abroad. Did you feel something similar when you escaped Mariupol?

- We thought about why we could not stay longer, especially because we did not capture the events at the drama theatre, where so many people died... But the fact that we survived at all - that is a miracle.

- Vasylysa mentioned her fear of going to Mariupol, and that your and Mstyslav’s confidence inspired her. Is it easier to work in a team or alone?

- There is a saying, «One warrior does not make a battle». I am convinced of that. In difficult circumstances, you need to be with people you trust, who are on the same wavelength as you.

If, God forbid, you get injured, you need to have your people by your side, who know what to do. Mstyslav had significant experience working in war zones, and I had some experience in our own war.

In the summer of 2021, I took a course in first aid. I already knew how to apply tourniquets and do other essential things, but refreshing those skills is critical when you live in a country at war. Life taught me how to act during shellings.

Vasylysa and I started working together about a month before the full-scale invasion. Before Mariupol, we actually tried to talk her out of going. But she made her choice because she wanted to be with us. She took the risk. She is brave.

- Who inspires you?

- Mstyslav, Vasylysa and I inspire each other. But above all, I am inspired by our people.

Ukrainians are incredibly strong. They have suffered so much from the war, but they do not give up. I often see soldiers who have been wounded but have not lost their immense life potential and energy. For example, there is a soldier who underwent about 60 surgeries and had both limbs amputated. He says: «It’s nothing. I have my whole life ahead of me». He is undergoing rehabilitation and can now walk up the stairs by himself. His goal is to «get his two kids on their feet». How can you not be inspired by that?

My grandmother worked until she was 82, until her last day. She was an engineer and had been disabled since childhood due to polio. Despite having a severe disability, she went to work every day. It was hard for her to climb to the third floor, but she did it. She always said that you can not just sit or lie down, that you have to keep moving. After the full-scale invasion began, my parents had to leave their home and became internally displaced. But my father did not fall into depression or anything like that. Even at over 60, he continues to work.

I do not want to sound pretentious, but what is the point of life if you are only doing everything for yourself? I realise that in war, it is those who care who show up. And I never want to stop caring

For me, it is important not to stand aside. To take part in something that matters.

It is also crucial not to burn out. We are in the middle of a long marathon, and we need to maintain the pace to make it to the end - without losing strength or the sense of why we are doing it.

- But how? What helps you with that?

- It is a difficult period right now. I try not only to photograph but also to help my colleagues, especially young talented photographers, develop. That inspires me too.

- Are there any photographs that make you feel joyful and happy?

- Of course. I love taking pictures of my son. Watching him grow, mature and just seeing how cool he is.

- What can each of us do to help achieve victory?

- We should all do what we do best. Every day. How else? Some people fight, some make drones, others protest abroad, and we do journalism. It all matters. Every action. Every person.