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Shandro Oleksandr Mykhailovych, born on January 1, 1960. I was born in Crimea. The war found me in Mariupol, where I had been living since 1983 — with my wife, grandson, daughter-in-law, and son.

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I worked at the Mariupol Metallurgical Plant from 1983 until 2015. I rose through the ranks from foreman to deputy head of electrical equipment. I spent my whole life working there, but after I turned 55, it became too difficult,

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so I moved to another organization. I studied and became an energy specialist. I worked in this field until 2022, until the war began. On the very first day of the war, my son went to the military enlistment office and joined the Azov Regiment.

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Actually, my son had never served in a military unit — he had a medical exemption. My wife said: "Sashko, don’t go!" but he said that nothing could stop him anymore, and I told him: "This is your choice. I’m with you."

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All I said was that I shouldn't have to go [to war], because two women and a young man would be left alone — and it would be too hard for them. My son went to the enlistment office from the very first days. Two days later,

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I drove him to the unit, and he joined Azov. He had no skills weapons, nothing. We lived with my son and his family under one roof. First, the power went out. Then, about a week later — the gas. And within that same week,

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the water disappeared too. My son and I kept in touch for a while, as long as we still had internet. But around the 3rd or 4th, all connection was lost, and after that, we barely spoke. He came to see us a few times between February 24 and March 6.

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March 5 was my grandson’s birthday. He turned seven that year. At first, maybe for a day or two, things were still somewhat normal. We all slept in our own beds, but then we moved to the basement. We made it livable, set up beds, removed the shelves,

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and stayed there. By the 7th, my grandson was celebrating his birthday under shelling. The shelling was horrific. My grandson and daughter-in-law barely left the basement because of the terrifying gunfire, and we could hear the planes.

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There was a kindergarten next to us. The apartment buildings were right nearby, just about 200 meters from our house, and the kindergarten was there. It was being shelled, along with the surrounding buildings. It was exploding so loudly! We saw them dropping large bombs.

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Probably FABs. Because if there's nothing from the top floor to the very bottom, you can tell it's not just a rocket or a mine, it's really a bomb. I even saw a bomb lying unexploded on the playground. We heard bombs falling on the maternity hospital.

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The craters there were huge. We stayed in the basement most of the time, only coming out when we had to prepare something. Then, at our own risk, we would come out, because we needed something to eat. We had a grill, and we cooked on it.

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The water we had was what we had collected in the bathtub, in jars, in glasses — in anything we could find. So we had enough water, but when it came to food, we had to start economizing. Like any good housekeeper, we had some reserves.

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I wouldn't say we were starving — no, we just ate the bare minimum. During this time, our neighbors' house caught fire twice, and the second floor was gone. They had a two-story house. The first floor burned, and the fire from the second floor spread to our house,

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setting it on fire We were in the basement at the time, and we didn't even know the roof was burning. Luckily, the neighbors managed to knock on our door. We had a German shepherd, and he started barking, so we climbed out and put the fire out on our house.

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March 22nd was a very dreadful day. In the morning, our neighbors woke us up. There was shelling, and again, a mine hit their two-story house. They had a kitchen on the first floor, and the glass shattered, severely cutting both the man and the woman.

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They lost a lot of blood. They asked me for a car. So they said: “Sashko, can we take your car to get to a hospital?” and I said, “If you need it, take it.” I gave him [the neighbor] my car, and we went back into the basement. After about two hours, or maybe one,

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he returned and said it wasn’t needed, because he had met someone who was already taking the dead and wounded. I parked the car, and literally half an hour later — it was around 9 or 9:30 — the shelling started again. And again, I hear something burning.

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Probably the neighbor’s house. We helped each other, because without the neighbors, we would have burned down — we wouldn’t have known about the fire. At that time, my wife and I… She ran out first. Although she was always behind, for some reason,

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that time, she ran out first. We ran into the yard, and right in front of her, a mine exploded. My wife — immediately hit, the mine passed right through her. I was running behind, just 2 meters behind. I was wounded. I don’t know how long I lay there.

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Then I hear my daughter-in-law calling me: “Dad, are you okay?” And I said, “I’m fine, but mom’s probably gone.” We dragged mom into the yard. My daughter-in-law and grandson helped me, they bandaged me because I was bleeding.

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There were heavy shellings all day long. And we heard that our neighbor's wife had died because they were shelling everywhere, not aiming at anything specific. I saw him sitting on the roof of the new building, shooting from above.

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I was heading to the grill, and he was shooting. That day, we buried my wife in the garden. Her name was Galina, she was born in 1964. She was originally from russia, from Orel. Her parents moved to Crimea in 1979, when she was little.

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Then, since I lived in Crimea, I came there to study, and we became friends. We eventually got married, and my son was born here in 1986. She was very patriotic, and she loved Ukraine deeply. March 22, 2022. She is buried in the garden there.

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The shelling continued constantly, and it was only around March 24 that our guys withdrew from the area. That's when we saw the white armbands. So, they were the 'DNR' forces, the russians. It was hard. They were walking down the streets,

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checking everything… We saw them from March 24, but before that, they weren’t around. After that, the shelling stopped for us, but then a tank drove up to within 50 meters of us, fired — and the roof just lifted off. It was terrifying.

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When my son went to the recruitment office, he asked me to keep an eye on his wife because, well, she’s his wife, and there's also the child. I said: “Son, don't worry, everything will be fine.” For a while, we could still receive messages.

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When the internet went down and there was no more communication... After March 24, around the beginning of April, I realized that my son Sashko was searching for us. He didn’t know where we were or what had happened to us.

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He was reaching out to other acquaintances through social media to see if they could come and check if we were at home, if we were alive, what had happened to us. By then, we already knew that he knew: his mother was gone by that time,

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and we were still in Mariupol, in our house. We knew he was at Azovstal. While I was still there, I saw how they were bombing Azovstal. The shelling of the Illich Steel Plant ended around mid-April, but they kept bombing Azovstal until the very end.

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When planes dropped bombs there — it was such a shock to you! You realize your son is there…We finally managed to get in touch with him around the beginning of May. Near a neighboring building, which was called “Pentagon”,

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there was a signal transmitter. We would sit there for an hour or two just to connect with him, and then we started communicating. He said: “Dad, you need to leave, because either way, we’ll be taken prisoner or we’ll die here.

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And they won’t let you out of Mariupol because they know I’m with “Azov”. At that time, we spoke just a few times until the 8th, and then we tried to leave with the Red Cross. They were evacuating civilians from Azovstal,

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and we tried to join the convoy in our own cars.We tried three times, but couldn’t get out. Then, I think it was on the 7th or 8th that we finally made it out. We reached Bezimenne, where there was a filtration point. The occupiers let the bus through,

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but told us to get in the general line and wait. We waited there for three days to go through filtration — to endure that humiliation. Then we received that piece of paper, which… anyone could sign. We got that slip, and with it, we were allowed to move around Mariupol or leave.

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Then we got a permit for the car. And that same day, we left Mariupol — it was either the 9th or the 10th. We went to Berdyansk and spent the night there. There were seven cars in our convoy. Some decided to go through Zaporizhzhia,

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but I didn’t want to take the risk — my daughter-in-law and her son were with me, and there was shelling there. I knew not everyone made it through. My daughter-in-law’s parents were also in Crimea, so we went through Crimea.

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It was easier that way, although they weren’t really letting people through either. But since I was officially a Crimean by passport, born there, and my daughter-in-law was from there too… We arrived and stayed in Crimea. For about three days,

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we were able to talk with my son — until he surrendered and was taken captive. That was on May 18, the last time we spoke. On May 18, he said: “Dad, that’s it — we’re surrendering.” We talked that morning — and then he went out.

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We were talking, tears streaming down, and he said: “Dad, Everything Will Be Ukraine!” Sashko spent exactly 29 months in captivity. He surrendered on May 18, following orders, and was released on October 18, 2024. During that time,

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he went through it all: Olenivka, the detention center in Donetsk, then he was held in russia — and he remained in captivity there until the end. You know, we kept attending rallies in support of the Azov fighters, and every time we waited for those prisoner exchanges.

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We saw that some of the guys were being released — but almost none from Azov. And each time, we held on to hope. The last real hope came in September, that he might be released — but no. Then again in October. In October,

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russia once again started saying there would be an exchange. You wait and wait — and then, around 10 in the evening, the phone rings. Someone calls and asks if this person is my son. I say yes. And they tell me he’s been released, and that he’ll call me soon.

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That call came, and you don’t quite understand what’s going on. Doubts. Then, just five minutes later, the Security Service calls and again asks if he’s mine. And again, I say yes. When they call you twice — then you know, it’s real.

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Especially since we didn’t know for sure what would happen...
But then, about an hour later, we saw the lists — and an hour and a half after that, my son calls and says: “Dad, I’m back in Ukraine”, that was something else. To say I’ve learned to live on...

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I live. But I had such a family! My son was always proud of the relationship I had with my wife — we truly loved each other deeply. And now, it's so hard for me to switch gears, to stop, and just keep living.

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I understand in my mind that I have to move on, to remember her and go forward — but still, something inside won’t let go... Yes, things feel a bit easier now, because my son is back.

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And when I see my grandson smile, and my daughter-in-law never leaving my son’s side, always being there for him — I feel joy for them. I’m happy that they’re together, that they’re okay.