Ukrainian POW Says He Was Treated Like an Animal During Russian Captivity

After more than six months in captivity, Dmytro Moskva noticed that the Russian prisoners he was being swapped for were in far better shape than he was.

As he and his disheveled comrades limped across a bridge that was their exchange point, they passed the prisoners who had fought for Vladimir Putin who had cleaner uniforms, looked better fed and some were even carrying suitcases.

"I can't even describe what feelings I had at that time," the 26-year-old told Newsweek from Donetsk, about his new found freedom. "I realized that finally I have my rights and I'm a human being and not just an animal like they had treated us."

Back in January 2022, when Moskva signed a contract as a rifleman with Ukraine's Territorial Defense Force, he had his own meat processing business and could not have imagined what the year had in store for him and his country.

Six weeks later, Russia invaded and he had to leave his wife in Mariupol who was three months pregnant. He saw a rocket for the first time when one hit a nearby school. All of a sudden he was thrown into a war in which he had to evacuate the wounded and fight in street battles to defend his home city in the Donetsk oblast.

At the end of March 2022, he tried to visit his family but could not get to them after he got into a firefight with Russian troops.

On April 19, weakened by blood loss caused by rounds that had lodged in both legs and his left arm, he was captured along with his comrades as they sheltered in the Azovstal steel works, which was the last Ukrainian stronghold in the Siege of Mariupol.

Moskva was handed over to Chechen troops who had been fighting for Moscow. "We didn't want to surrender but we had to because there were no combat capable soldiers among us at that time," he said. After months of resistance, Ukrainian troops eventually surrendered the steel works and the city on May 16, 2022.

In Russian captivity, he initially received one bandage and some painkillers, but that was the extent of the sympathy. The beatings during repeated interrogations were regular as the Russian captors tried to get them to confess to crimes against civilians in Mariupol.

His surname of Moskva—Russian for Moscow—was cause for his captors to ridicule him. "Not one of us could figure out if we could live till the next interrogation, if we could survive at all," he said.

His weight melted from 175 to 143 pounds to "just skin and bones," because the food they received was so scarce. "They gave us just enough food to keep us alive," he said.

However, he and his comrades managed to share stories about their families and knew each others' life circumstances. "This was a source of strength and gave us the power to resist and to carry on," Moskva said.

"On the one hand we hoped we would join our families and our country, on the other hand we were desperate because we didn't know what would happen to us."

Frequently moved from one prison to another, he suspected that they were being held as bargaining chips for a prisoner exchange. Throughout their captivity, they were told when to sit, when to stand up and when to eat.

He was among hundreds who were taken to the Olenivka jail in the Donetsk region. There are conflicting accounts about an explosion in the dilapidated barracks on July 29 that killed at least 53 Ukrainian prisoners and injured more than 75.

"Even now I feel it as if it happened just yesterday," he said, the details of which make it difficult for him to sleep to this day. "I remember a very strong blast."

Eventually they found themselves in the Russian city of Taganrog before being taken by plane to Dzhankoi in Crimea with bags on their heads, arms tied up and mockingly told "to say hi to [Volodymyr] Zelensky," the Ukrainian president. They thought they were being taken to another prison.

Given their first food for 24 hours, they were transported by buses to Vasylivka in Ukraine's southern Zaporizihia oblast where they could finally walk free across the bridge.

His wife and his daughter Veronika, who turned one on August 3, were still in occupied Mariupol and so it was another four months before he could finally see them. "When we met, the emotions were so strong," he said. "I was worried that my daughter would cry, but when I held her, she didn't cry. Everyone was so happy."

Heart of Azovstal

Moskva has been trying to cope with the physical and psychological trauma of his experiences through the Heart of Azovstal program. Developed by experts in consultation with Mariupol survivors, the program provides support for POWs who have just been released and the families of the killed, captured and missing.

It also gives treatment and rehabilitation, medical assistance, prosthetic treatment and psychological support. His family joined him for recuperation in the Carpathian Mountains in the west of Ukraine. "All defenders of Mariupol can access these treatments and we are very grateful. We gave our souls and all our strength defending Mariupol and this is in gratitude and recognition of what we did," Moskva said.

Sleep still does not come easy, though tablets help with that and a psychologist is only a phone call away. "I can't say that my mental health is stable yet because sometimes I feel OK and very high," he said. "At other points, I get very bad thoughts."

Earlier this month, Russia and Ukraine carried out the latest in a series of prisoner exchanges in which Kyiv said 22 Ukrainian soldiers who fought in different parts of the front returned home.

The strong bonds forged in captivity endure, and Moskva is still waiting for one particular close friend who is still being held prisoner. "Twenty-two Ukrainian soldiers is a small number compared with how many they are keeping," he told Newsweek from the Donetsk region where he is still serving. "We want our comrades back."