Grund #2784 warum wir die Ukraine unterstützen müssen und es eine klare russische Niederlage für einen nachhaltigen Frieden brauchen wird.
Zitat:
Volodymyr Rudenko spent a year and 11 months in russian captivity—during that time, he never saw the sun and was tortured daily. Since January 2024, when he returned home, he has been undergoing rehabilitation.
He shared that although they knew nothing while in captivity, they believed that Ukraine was fighting.
He joined the army when war broke out in 2014. He served in the 25th Separate Airborne Brigade, and was discharged in 2017 after getting injured. Then he rejoined the military when the full-scale war began:
"A few days later, I went to Donbas. When I was captured—my entire platoon was killed in one battle, except for five people. I went on reconnaissance, entered the first settlement, and with gunfire and everything, I was captured. Afterward, they took me to Kursk on an IL-76 plane, where I was held in a local pre-trial detention center. That’s when the hell began."
Volodymyr said he cannot bring himself to describe all the horrors of that time, but he shared some memories:
"We were beaten every day—three times a day. When I returned, I weighed 65 kilograms—I couldn’t walk. Our daily food was three pieces of bread and not even a full cup of something they called tea. We were kept in a closed room, and they moved us five times because lice had infested the entire prison. We couldn’t even look into the prison yard because the windows were blocked. They would set dogs on us and laugh. we called all the doctors who came to see us ‘Doctor Death’ because they found it funny when we were beaten"
In captivity, there was a constant feeling of hunger, but the belief in Ukraine never left them, Volodymyr Rudenko said:
"You fall asleep thinking about when you’ll get those three pieces of bread. We didn’t know what was happening on the front—who was fighting where, whether Ukraine was still alive or not. But somehow, we knew that Ukraine was fighting. That’s what faith means."
On Volodymyr’s wrist is a yellow and blue bracelet he put on on January 31, 2024, the day he returned home during an exchange:
"I don’t take this bracelet off. I remember falling to the ground—not crying, but sobbing. A lot has happened in my life, but I have never cried like that."
After being released from captivity, Mr. Volodymyr held a family photo album for the first time in two years. But his loved ones were not only in the photos—his daughter, two granddaughters, and sister were also right there with him.
The family finally embraced Volodymyr in February 2024. Now they have the chance to remember carefree times together, such as the Dnipro River, which Volodymyr longed for in captivity:
"For the first time in nearly three years, I dipped my hands in the Dnipro. I used to be an avid pike fisherman. There are photos of me fishing with my nephews."
"I dream of having a house in a quiet place, somewhere near the Ros River, and starting my own farm—that’s my dream now."
He also dreams of the release of all his mates. He appeals to the entire world to stop the torture of Ukrainian prisoners. Mr. Volodymyr has even appealed to the UN regarding this matter:
"Help get them out of there. Every day is a piece of death for everyone who is still there."
Quelle:
https://suspilne.media/cherkasy/817...storia-cerkasca-akij-pereziv-rosijskij-polon/
www.zeit.de
