Maksym Sinchenko pays a heartfelt tribute to his late brother, Dmytro Sinchenko, a talented Ukrainian journalist, writer, and former correspondent of The Ukrainian Week. Dmytro courageously sent reports from the trenches and fought on the frontline during the Russian-Ukrainian war, ultimately sacrificing his life. In the initial part of this emotional essay, Maksym reconstructs Dmytro’s final hours, writing on behalf of his brother and drawing from the firsthand account of his brothers-in-arms.
***
“The positions were defended in the height of summer. Donetsk’s August heat isn’t all that different from the August heat back in my hometown of Kropyvnytskyi, when summer has already started to fade into autumn, and despite the heat lingering in the air, you can sense the hint of autumn. The silence was abruptly broken by a message from the dugout:
– At platoon X’s positions, we have a seriously wounded soldier! He’s crying out in desperation! We need immediate evacuation and assistance for the paramedic!
This is the situation where waiting for darkness isn’t an option. Moreover, our positions are adjacent to those of platoon X. “I’ll go,” I said. The supply sergeant doesn’t usually go into the line of fire, but for some reason, I didn’t consider that at the time. As I stepped out, my eyes caught on the folded flag handed over by the volunteers. I remembered that tomorrow is the Day of the State Flag of Ukraine.
We’re heading out together – me and the paramedic. We’re unarmed for speed’s sake; if we end up carrying the wounded, weapons would just slow us down. I’m in a sort of autopilot mode. These positions, familiar since December 2022, are right by the cemetery. But why did we come from this direction? We could’ve taken a slightly different route…
Then, everything unfolded in an instant. A sharp pain tore through my shoulder, and suddenly I was sprawled on the ground. I register that just before this, there was the unmistakable whistle of a bullet.
– Alive? – I hear the paramedic’s voice above my head.
– Alive… – I manage to respond.
In another moment, my shirt is ripped open; the wound hastily tended to. The following moment, a mixture of cries and groans fades into the distance, along with the sound of retreating footsteps. Could that be the paramedic? Once more, I realise this was preceded by yet another distinct whistle. I remain lying flat on the ground. It’s only now that I grasp I’m all alone, next to the graves…”
***
The subsequent events played out in such a way that no more firsthand stories would come forth. There’s plenty the author either couldn’t get to or chose not to delve into. Maybe he desired to explore the human connections on the front line more deeply? How do you trust your life to someone you’ve only known for a day? Or what to expect from a fellow soldier who stabbed you in the back a decade ago? Or perhaps, conversely, that in the crucible of war, everything is forgiven, and bonds with comrades only strengthen. It turned out that he was not at all prepared for the worst. While his family now recognises in his actions during his final leave at the end of July 2023 that he foresaw the worst, Dmytro neglected many precautions that are typically taken “just in case.” For instance, who would notify in case of the worst? This seems straightforward. However, it transpired that one of his brothers-in-arms, whom the family had been in touch with, lacked the courage to deliver the news. He merely resorted to the falsehood that Dmytro was alive and well and would soon be in contact. Later, they discovered that the regulations prohibited the commander from informing the families, so not only did he fail to inform them personally, but he also disregarded the families’ requests for communication and failed to pass on the necessary documents to the Territorial Centre of Recruitment. Imagine, it turns out the commander was also his godfather…
On the board’s cover, urging to join the Ukrainian Volunteer Army and posted in Kropyvnytskyi in autumn 2023, after the mentioned events, Dmytro’s photo was labelled as “journalist-investigator.” On social media, Dmytro identified himself as a “political analyst, publicist, journalist-investigator, blogger, activist, a fighter in the Ukrainian Volunteer Army, and a nice guy.” This list barely scratches the surface of his character. Dmytro had a wide circle of friends and countless acquaintances. Each person had their own image of Dmytro etched in their memory. For some, it’s the image of an eighteen-year-old young man setting up tents on the Orange Revolution square.
For some, he is the man in military uniform who took a few days off to come to Kyiv-Mohyla Academy to receive a diploma for his already second degree. However, everyone who knew him noted his unquenchable activity and sincerity. With all genuine sincerity, he made the decision on February 24, 2022, to stand up for Ukraine. Dmytro was not a hero. A hero is someone who has done something extraordinary and extremely important. Evacuating the wounded is everyday work on the front line, not a feat, he reasoned. Moreover, he believed that we still have a distorted perception of heroism, as, for some reason, we only value heroes who are dead.
The description written at the beginning – that was the first story Dmytro’s family heard about his disappearance; the rest was gathered bit by bit, and the final pieces of the story were put together almost before the burial itself. In reality, Dmytro and the medic did make it to the cemetery and reached the positions. On the way, Dmytro received a shrapnel wound to the shoulder. As it became clear immediately, they arrived at an inopportune time: that was precisely when the enemy began to storm the positions. Evacuating the wounded in such conditions was no longer an option. This was where the weapon they didn’t bring with them would have come in handy. And then – the mortar shelling and the explosion of a mine near the head… Dmytro will no longer write about the fact that the seriously wounded soldier they were supposed to evacuate did not survive. That later, on the same day, August 22, 2023, not far from these positions, the Colonel of the Armed Forces of Ukraine, the commander of the “South” detachment of the Ukrainian Volunteer Army, whom Dmytro greatly respected and valued, call-sign “Sokil”, was killed. That everyone hoped that Dmytro was one of the prisoners the Russian enemy was taking from the positions. That everyone hoped that Dmytro’s body was evacuated from the positions on August 27. That the DNA identification seemed to last an eternity. That he was buried on March 14, 2024.
The worst thing that can happen on the frontline is death. However, it will happen anyway, sooner or later. This is how Dmytro wrote in one of his articles. Yet he was not preparing to die. He went to war not to die for Ukraine. He went to live for Ukraine. He lived for Ukraine. He lived for Ukraine’s victory. He would have lived for Ukraine after the victory. Just like all of our other defenders. Now, we will all live for Dmytro – his brothers on the front and his civilian friends in the rear.
Rest in peace, brother!
