Роман Кривдик Roman Kryvdyk

* 1986

  • “Several male or female nurses, an anesthesiologist, a surgeon, and crews of vehicles that are transporting [the wounded] to the hospital. These are usually dilapidated premises, not always of medical purpose, where such field surgery is deployed. It is where moderate cases can be stabilised, and for severe cases, there is the possibility of inducing narcotic coma, performing traction, and mobilisation. It is located quite far from the front line so that it is not targeted by mortars or lighter artillery. And already there, in a calmer setting, medical assistance can be provided. Because up until the point where the stabilisation point is located, there is only pre-medical help and options of how you can help a soldier are very limited.” — “Does the medical service receive everything it needs now or is there a shortage?” — “Enough. Where I was, it was sufficient. But it should be understood: it is sufficient not because the structure of the medical service of the Armed Forces of Ukraine is perfect, but because of the unprecedented trust of people who, when needed, simply get you the stars from the sky. So, I have my stretchers that I use, and their value is 800 euros. I wouldn't have received them in the army. They would have given me just two sticks and a tarp instead.”

  • “We arrived in Donetsk region. It was the beginning of August this year. Prior to that, we were in the preparation process, getting organised because we were all new to each other. It's important to understand that my unit suffered heavy losses in the area of the Svitlodarsk Bulge, Rubizhne, Severodonetsk. They were defending Severodonetsk. Out of the company, 23 people remained. Some were taken as prisoners, some were incapacitated or wounded, some were in psychiatric hospitals, and some were killed. The company was completely destroyed. The unit was replenished with people like me.. At the training area, they said to us, “Well, guys, you are kamikazes.. honestly, we are not just sitting in the rear... we work. There will be no offence to anyone from anyone. Whoever feels the need can step out of the formation and leave.” And there were people who stepped out of the formation and left. During the selection process, no one was fooling us; they told us exactly what would happen. I directly asked myself, “Roma, how do you feel about this information? Are you okay with it?” I feel okay. Why would I pretend? Okay. Did I join the reconnaissance? No, I told the reconnaissance unit of our brigade, “No, I won’t go there, I’d pee my pants...” That level, the one they operate at, I still have the room for growth there. Reconnaissance is beyond my level. I have great respect for those people, but I can't do it; I'm very scared. Although who knows what the future holds. We prepared ourselves, arrived in Donetsk region in August, and were stationed near Druzhkivka. Potentially, missiles, aircraft, and MLRS [multiple launch rocket systems] could reach us, but simple artillery couldn't. There were no shallholes in the village; life goes on as usual. There were clouds of soldiers, just a massive number of them, beyond 30 kilometres from the front. We stayed there for three days, received our combat orders, and as a platoon, we began to take up positions in the defence of one of the Zaitseve (there are two of them) and were to hold the defence there. I approached the commander, and he said, “You're not going.” Well, okay, I stayed behind. I didn’t move. We suffered losses: 1 killed, 15 wounded. And they change us. It was obvious that we were quite shocked. Later, I realised that it was a normal, stable day in the Donetsk sector.”

  • “We had interactions [with other military units], but I had more encounters with pravoseks [members of the Right Sector volunteer formation]. They would often visit us, come for a coffee, a drink, or something else. There was a spirit of brotherhood, equality, and a complete understanding that we were here, and they were there, all driven not by a sense of duty but by a sense of dignity and the right to defend our land. They were like some kind of artists, free-spirited individuals, not mere labourers but free people. I remember even regretting at one point <…> that I joined the legal armed formations. Later on, I made excuses to myself, thinking, ‘What if they do something wrong? How can they be held accountable?’ There was no way. But with legal armed formations, if they did something wrong, they could be held accountable. There are regulations, there are boundaries, there is hierarchy, and I would rather give weapons to those people. If it weren't for the legal armed forces, we wouldn't have the HIMARS [American missile systems] or anything else. It's a good phenomenon, a community, but it lacks the ability to become something massive, something strong enough to defend our country in such a formation against aggression... And the spirit there... I mean, that level when I first heard them addressing each other as ‘brother,’ when it was completely normal to say ‘Glory to Ukraine.’ In the Armed Forces in 2015 — ‘Glory to Ukraine’? Are you a Bandera supporter? It wasn't quite there yet... There were many sceptics of the Maidan... But in the Right Sector, those were usually people who understood very well what was happening. In the Right Sector, there were, of course, individuals from Donetsk and Luhansk regions, but they were still people who, besides seeking revenge for their homes, had a different worldview, more similar to what is happening with people's worldview now. There was a gap in worldviews. Airborne Troops — no. They are just more audacious, slightly better equipped and armed. Actually, in principle, they don't differ from infantry in any way.”

  • “Due to the intense stress and overwhelming emotions I experienced upon returning from the army [from the ATO zone], in late summer of [20]16, around August, it was extremely challenging for me to relax and notice when I entered what I call the ‘war mode.’ It's an internal mobilisation, a heightened threshold of aggression that ignites itself. Even without energy, this aggression kicks in, but I can see that people around me <…> distance themselves when I'm in such a state. I underwent therapy for many years, and I know exactly what helped me. Throughout all those years, including up until the full-scale invasion, I even had crisis sessions. Well, it wasn't therapy anymore; they were just crisis sessions. But the fact is that this tool <…> it has helped me tremendously. And still helps. Why did I need that help? I think from the very beginning, I had a sense of guilt towards the guys who died. I felt guilty towards the guys whom I thought at that time I hadn't provided full assistance to, whom I could have saved but didn't. I felt guilty towards the guys who continued to serve while I didn't. The war continues, and I... well, it's unclear what I am doing. And this series of internal pressures, moral questions... for a long time <…> I couldn't even name them and then work on them. It was like a snowball. The only desire was to hide from the world, from myself, to isolate myself. A clear realisation that nobody understands me. Who was there in Lviv in [20]16? A parallel world. What war? What are you talking about? That's somewhere in Donbas. What does Donbas have to do with Ukraine? Ukraine is this... Well, I arrived, I remember that every time I burned up, like a fuse... I yelled at people, argued with them. I knew that they didn't hear what I was saying because I spoke in a way that made people close off, they didn't listen. Perhaps I could have chosen different words, but at that moment, I didn't have the mental energy to do it differently.”

  • “The second Maidan [Revolution of Dignity] was much more challenging. My ex-wife said that we are expecting a child. It was something we really desired, we were looking forward to this moment. I understood that I had no right to expose her to danger. I never went there when the most difficult days on Maidan took place, not once. I would come there when it was very quiet, very dull, but it was also necessary to have people there. I mean when I had the opportunity between performances or something. And it was at that moment that I realised that theatre was not my path at all. With exactly that kind of repertoire, classical Ukrainian theatres. I realised that I no longer wanted this. The students went out for a demonstration, and there's already a stage set up in Lviv. There was a great initiative, absolutely no politicians were allowed on stage. And here I am rehearsing some small role, some dog, some nonsense in that Young Spectators’ Theater. I understand that it breaks me into pieces; we're in parallel realities. After the revolution, I said goodbye to the theatre and started working in a charitable organisation, now called ‘100% Life,’ but back then it was called ‘People Living with HIV/AIDS.’ I began engaging in social activities, social support, caring for palliative patients, supporting antiretroviral therapy, and assisting people who undergo it. I also started to familiarise myself with what was happening in the field of HIV service provision in Ukraine and Lviv region more closely.”

  • “ <…> And they, [my father] and my mother, had a hobby, they had an amateur theatre called Meta, and in the [19]90s, they staged 'Marusia Churai,' staged things that were forbidden to them in their youth. They were involved in theatre. I guess that's why I chose this path. — “And where was this theatre located?" — “They were a rolling stone, it was in Lviv. The directors Bohdan Kozak and Hryhorii Shumeiko, still very young and unknown, worked with them. Many people went through their theatre; they collaborated with the Ne Zhurys (Don’t Worry) choir and the Lion Society... They didn't have a venue, so they staged wherever they could. Even back in the 1990s, they used to put on these open air performances in nature. They staged Lesia Ukrainka's 'Forest Song' in nature, and then made it a tradition to hold such theatre performances every year. Ivana Kupala was also celebrated in nature every year. There were swings, bonfires, some spring songs, games, and a small performance.”

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    Lviv, 10.11.2022

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    duration: 02:58:15
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I realised that I would feel more comfortable in a combat unit

Roman Kryvdyk during the interview, 2023
Roman Kryvdyk during the interview, 2023
photo: Post Bellum Ukraine

Roman Volodymyrovych Kryvdyk was born on December 1, 1986, in Lviv. His parents created and actively participated in the activities of the Meta amateur theater, which influenced the formation of Roman’s personality and his choice of profession. He studied acting at the Ivan Franko Lviv National University. After completing his studies, he served in the army. He worked in the theater and participated in the H-Effect (Hamlet Effect) project, a post-documentary experimental performance interpreting realities of present-day Ukraine through the lens of Shakespeare’s works. He participated in the Orange Revolution and the Revolution of Dignity. In 2015, he served in the Anti-Terrorist Operation (ATO) zone as a combat medic. After demobilization, he was involved in social projects and planned to open a social enterprise before the full-scale invasion. Since May 2022, he has been mobilized again to the Armed Forces of Ukraine.