Stories that you confided to us
She remembered the beginning of the war with loud shelling sounds. In 2014-2015, she lived in constant horror. On 7 August 2015, at 5:00 am, a shell exploded near her house – the glass from the windows shattered. She miraculously survived.
Previously, the word "war" was already obsolete, something of a past. Everyone thought that peace would last forever, and things get better this every year. People were cheerful, they were not afraid to have children. And now what?
Klymenko is my husband's surname. My maiden name is Kopchekchy. I was born in Hranitne. I used to work on a collective farm, then in the kindergarten. First, I was a teacher. Then was promoted to chief of the facility. I got married in Volnovakha. I lived there for seven years, and then the circumstances turned out so that I had to return home. I entered agricultural machinery institute. I worked as an operator, then I was transferred to the engineer position. Then I retired.
Hranitne is a very beautiful village, large and very hospitable. It has always held many events and concerts. The village was busy. It was densely populated.
And what now? It is dead. Young people have left, the old are dying slowly. This war destroyed the houses and buildings. I never would have thought this would happen in my old age.
My childhood was in the time of war. And I have live through the same at old age. But what can I do?
The first year, 2014, when they started shooting hard, was dreadful. These constant air-crafts flying over our heads. And I remember the hum of air-crafts from that war. My heart would bleed. Then the planes, the helicopters stopped, and the shooting began.
In 2015, a shell fell on us. It was 7 August, at 5 o'clock in the morning. At that time, the lights were turned on and off. I am an early bird. I got up, thinking to cook some pancakes while the was still electricity. There was an electric stove in the bedroom. Once I started to mix the mixture, they began to shoot with shells.
The sound was getting closer and closer. The house vibrated. I sat down in a corner. A shell fell. I looked around. There was no window, just dust and smoke. A few moments later another one followed. I sat down. This time half of the house was gone.
Then it quieted down, and I saw that the Village Council had arrived. They assessed the damage, drew up an act certifying that I am a victim. Now I have plastic windows installed, and roof fully recovered.
Somehow, fear disappears immediately, and then started to concern me once again. You just wish for one thing — for God's sake, let this all end soon. And then you feel so scared that you cannot even express it with words.
Where will you go? Nowhere.
A neighbor next door is also alone. She came to spend the night with me. She was very afraid. She lived in Kamchatka. Her house was destroyed there, and she returned here to her son. And she was killed. She and her grandchildren went to get some water. I took the buckets – and then a shell fell into the garden, and that was it. Poor Fenya, she was so afraid moving here. Little did she know. I guess you cannot escape your fate, it will find you.
When you hear that shooting, explosions, the only thing you think about is it to to pass. We were still under fire. Then you need to get bread or somewhere else. My nieces live on that street, my brother's children. Sometimes I went there, and they started shooting. You get up, stand or go somewhere, wait it out. Then you go further I couldn't walk fast any more. Old age.
In that war, people were more tight-knit, friendly. They shared. And in this war, people became angry and cruel. I'm very surprised. Why did the people become like this? I am very surprised and very impressed.
I would like to express my gratitude to Rinat Akhmetov for his help. Him and his team. A son would not leave a parent, so he does he —supports his people. This is very precious.
Previously, the word "war" was already obsolete, something of a past. Everyone thought that peace would last forever, and things get better this every year. People were cheerful, they were not afraid to have children. And now what? Well, it's politics.
When quoting a story, a reference to the source – the Museum of Civilian Voices of the Rinat Akhmetov Foundation – is mandatory, as follows:
The Museum of Civilian Voices of the Rinat Akhmetov Foundation https://civilvoicesmuseum.org/
