"I have clearly decided that I am bringing the boys' bodies back home", - Nastia Andrykova

On 24 February 2022, Nastia Andrykova joined the military in her native Kyiv region. Since then, she has been arranging space for the military and bringing back fallen comrades. The most difficult event during the war for Nastia was the loss of her close military friend. He stayed in Ustynivka in the temporarily occupied Luhansk region. For a long time, the girl tried to find a way to get into the search group of the Armed Forces humanitarian project "On the Shield" because she wanted to return his body. A year after her friend's death, she found the NGO "Military History Centre "Memory and Glory" contacts, met them and joined the expedition as a part of a joint search team.

Correspondents of the Centre for Public Investigations visited the field with "On the Shield" searchers. The CPI also made the film "Nastia", which was named one of the five best documentaries. 

"My idea of war was romanticised"

When I used to complain about grey days, I didn't think that it could be coloured like this. Now, I wouldn't mind getting back to those grey days - work, work, friends every day. 

Before the full-scale invasion, I worked in the marketing department of a supermarket chain. I loved my job, and I still do. We had a great team. Also, every weekend I get together with my friends to play board games, as we are big fans of them. We went on weekend hikes on expeditions around the country because my friends are mountaineers.

I panicked a few days before the full-scale invasion. I didn't believe that it was possible to start a war in the 21st century, but I still thought that it would be better to have some kind of preparation. I ordered 80 litres of water home, bought different kinds of sublimates and stuff that could be cooked somewhere in the field, and took a sleeping bag, a tent and a gas burner to the car. I imagined that the beginning of the war meant living somewhere in the forest in a tent with a fire. My idea of war was very romanticised, like in films. 

On 24 February, I woke up, like everyone else, because of the explosions. The war had started, and the first thing I did was to go out of town to fill up the car because it was impossible to queue up for any petrol station in the city. While the car was being filled up, air defence shot down missiles overhead several times.

We agreed with our neighbours, sisters Tania and Ira, that we would cooperate - they would go to the pharmacy, and I would go to buy food. The first thing I did after that was to cook borshch. I still have a photo of us sitting in the kitchen, my mum and I, she's scared, reading every piece of news, and I'm cooking borshch. 

Then I took a bottle of wine and went to Tania and Ira to discuss our next steps. We read the news that there was a big rush in a supermarket in Brovary, and the workers didn't have time to put food on the shelves. We went there to help, sorted apples into bags, put them in boxes, and laid out bread. I thought it was important at that time. 

Then I went to look at all the bomb shelters around the house that we had. Bomb shelters are just basements. I assessed the situation where I could take my mother down because she is in a wheelchair and uses an electric scooter. The only place with fewer steps we found is the kindergarten beneath the house. All my neighbours went to sleep in the church near the house, because there is a big, nice basement, but with huge steps. So, my mother and I went to kindergarten. 

It was very hot in the kindergarten; many children did not sit still. The floor was completely covered with dust; it rose, and it was impossible to breathe. If I could go outside, my mother could not. So we got everyone involved and moved to the church. 

Nastia and her mother. Photo from Nastia's personal archive

The most terrifying night

At night someone was crying, someone was wailing in the church, people were going outside all night. It was the worst night because no one knew what would happen in the morning. We were in an information vacuum, with the rumble of equipment being unloaded around us. Sirens were constantly sounding. I remember that I was very scared, I turned to my mother and said: "Let's leave in the morning, let's take the neighbours, I've already planned everything." My mum told me that we would not go anywhere because this was our home: "If they speak to us in Russian tomorrow, we will speak to them in Ukrainian." That was it. 

Honestly, I didn't understand my mother then. My fear was controlling me, and in the morning, I decided that if I was so scared, I needed to do something to make it meaningful. I called my friend Vadym and asked him: "Vadym, do you need help?" He had been in the TDF for a long time, even before the invasion. He said: "No, there are enough women here. Thank you, we don't need anything for now. If we need anything, I'll let you know". I thought: "I understand. I'm coming out." And literally at 6:30, I was already at their location.

Nastia near Blahodativka, Kherson region. Photo: CPI/Albina Karman 

"We tried to create conditions like at home"

When I arrived at the TDF, there were two other women, Toma and Ira, who came with their husbands. They made a mini canteen near the hangar, with tea and coffee and a whole hangar of food to be sorted. I called my neighbours Tanya and Ira to help me. We dismantled the hangar in half a day and turned it into a canteen. The girls stayed with me to serve. 

Nastia and her friends on the day they took the oath. Photo from her personal archive 

We worked there around the clock. The guys kept coming to drink tea, eat something and talk. They told me what was happening outside, where they were moving to. I thought that they were more scared than me because I was sitting here in the relatively warm hangar. They were also scared. I decided that our task here is to make a place where they can come, rest, switch from the war and relax. Wherever we were with the girls, we tried to create conditions like at home so that the soldiers could relax. 

And so it turned out that we were dealing with logistics issues. I was the first to officially start working as a clerk, and we started to get more involved in logistics: finding bulletproof vests and everything the guys needed. At some point, one of the commanders came and said: "I need many metres of round timber for the dugout." I answered: "It's not a problem at all, I'll find what I can, just explain to me the only thing - a) what is a dugout; b) what is a round timber?".

Then the soldiers took me to the positions, explained how they were built, and showed me what a round timber and a dugout were. 

We were sitting there and thinking about where to get the round timber, and I suggested: "Let's think logically. If it's a tree, it's the forestry. We need to go to the forester and take the wood from him." My comrade wasn't sure: "It probably doesn't work that way." I said: "Let's go and find out". So we did; we arrived, made an agreement and were given wood. Later, the mayor told me to stop making agreements with everyone for free because, as practice showed, anything we took at the beginning of the war for free resulted in acceptance and transfer certificates and a lot of problems that had to be solved in logistics. In short, a paper army in all its glory.

Nastia in the village of Andriivka, Kherson region. Photo: CPI/Albina Karman

"I've always dreamed of a big, friendly family"

In March, the fighting near Kyiv ended, and the boys began to prepare to go into combat. I lived near Vadym all the time, near his company. I kept in good touch with Sasha, the commander of the combined company, who was to go on combat missions at the end of May.

My friends and I were walking around the village, drinking tea and talking, discussing his vision of the war and his fears. He said it was wrong that the boys were not afraid. You cannot go into battle with those who are not afraid. This is war. It has consequences and you have to be afraid of it. 

Then there were the first casualties in Sasha’s company. The guys started to get surrounded, and the brigade they were attached to abandoned them and did not take them out. Unfortunately, we were able to take only one fallen soldier. It was Zver, and we were friends too. In fact, we formed a pretty good company there. I've always dreamed of a big, friendly family, so I try to build a family everywhere. This was my military family. 

So the guys were able to pull out only Zvier, but at a certain point of the evacuation, the battalion no longer received information about the body's location, and it was lost. At a meeting, the commander ordered us to go and look for our fallen comrade. We got together - our CMC member, the driver and me - and drove towards Dnipro. 

"This is my friend; I have to take him away"

I had never been to a mortuary before. I had only two mortuary addresses, and a person we had arranged to meet was waiting for us at one of them. Having only these two addresses, I mixed them up. The first mortuary was closed that day because it was a day off. We went to the other one. There was a man on duty. He let us into the refrigerator, though the workers usually showed us a photo. He opened the door, maggots were spilling out because the refrigerator was not working, and he started opening bag after bag: "This one? Not this one. This one? Not this one". He opened the next bag and said: "No, this one has been identified." I answered: "No, this is my comrade, I mean, I came for him". 

It was a complete accident because later I realised that this does not happen in mortuaries at all. They do their job so well; it was just the circumstances in our case. The point was that we were allowed to take the body - it was the first body I took. It was my first trip to the mortuary, my first experience, and I held myself well. I took it as a job that had to be done. This is my friend; I have to take him away; I have to bring him home. 

The village Andriivka, Kherson region. Photo: CPI/Albina Karman 

"I already understood that there was no way he could survive"

That morning, we did not take the body because it was summer and hot, and we were travelling in a regular van, not a refrigerated one. So, we decided to go at night and waited for the heat to subside in order to bring the body in good condition. 

When the heat subsided... the most difficult period of the whole war would follow. 

We arrived at the mortuary. The guys were trying to move the bag to the car, we drove the car closer, and I was controlling everything. At that moment, I received a call from the duty officer. He told me that Sasha had died. That broke me very much at that moment, I couldn't think about anything else. 

I was on autopilot until the guys started writing about how they found out about Sasha's death. They said that he was screaming: "Feet! Feet!" - but there is no further story from them about how it all ended. And it was all told by people who were not there, so I persuaded everyone: "Sania could not have died. He was screaming, so he's alive, he's definitely alive." I convinced the duty officer, the guys, the commander - everyone. I was going with such confidence. Well, it's Sania, he's going to take some painkillers, apply all his 33 turnstiles, because he's so experienced, he's a good guy, he can't die. 

But then my whole theory just fell apart. People believed that he was alive, but I didn't believe it anymore. I understood the reality, he didn't survive. At some point, we stopped in the middle of the field because I was sobbing all the way, choking with my tears. I got out, sat down on the grass on a hill and was sitting in a cold summer field under the starry sky. I was crying and thinking that Sania was freezing, hurt and alone in the field. After that, there were no emotions at the funerals and further casualties. I can endure it all calmly; it doesn't follow me. I clearly decided that I was bringing the boys home, and I had to bring Sasha back. 

That summer, I put Sasha's photo on my phone wallpaper and I haven't changed it since, so that I can always remind myself that I have to bring him home. (Oleksandr died in the village of Ustynivka, Luhansk region, which is currently occupied by the Russian military - ed.)

Sasha on Nastia's phone wallpaper. Photo provided by the interviewee 

"The families saw the body in a better condition than we did"

We washed the guys, asked our pathologist to shave them, made them a formalin mask for the road, and then took it off and made a vinegar mask. We usually arrived at the mortuary in Brovary in the middle of the night, and the families also came; they could not stand it until the morning. We made sure that the families saw the body in a better condition than we did. 

Our last trips were so well-organised that we arrived in Dnipro by 10 am, had 15 minutes to take the body away and drove back. We had everything ready and arranged, and everyone was waiting for us everywhere. So, at first, we only took our comrades, then I was transferred to another unit, and we started doing the same thing there. While working, we saw nice cars with refrigerators and people in uniform with the inscription "On the Shield". They came to Dnipro, bringing bodies every day. And I told Vadym: "Vadym, let's go and serve in the army." 

"I deformed myself for the army"

I was sitting in our headquarters office, redoing some documents a million times and thinking that I didn't want to end the war and say that all I did was register 33 shovels. This was not for me. I needed to make some important contributions. That's why I started looking for Lonia, the head of the NGO "Military History Centre "Memory and Glory" search group. The group would help me get Sasha back. 

My friends from the unit and my support team – Android, Anapa, and Sarmat - are against the work with "On the Shield" because they are worried about me. They think a girl shouldn't be doing this; they control me and are waiting for me to go mad because of this work. There were days when Android wanted to support me and went to take bodies away. I joined the army and have to justify giving up my normal life. Now I am on my second trip with the search team to the Kherson region. The first time we worked in the Kyiv region.  

Nastia's comrades accompany her on a mission. Photo from the interviewee's personal archive 

There are moments when I get fed up with everything in the army and think to myself: I'm going to quit and go to work. Once, I had the opportunity to come to my former job during my service and spend half a day in the office. I thought that I would come to the office, get a taste of this office life and want to quit the army. I was saved by the fact that a colleague who is also in the army came that day, and we talked about the army all the time. When I went out, I realised that I was not ready to return to civilian life. I don't know if I'll ever be "ready" again because I've already deformed a little bit for the army, no matter how much I deny it.

Альбіна Карман