Whenever she has a spare moment and the pain inside her has subsided, Katerina Prokopenko takes a pen and draws. He worked as a graphic designer in a Ukrainian grocery chain and loved cartoons so much that he illustrated children’s books on the side. Now her animations have a harder edge. All her designs focus on one theme: the Azovstal iron and steel works in Mariupol. There a group of Ukrainian soldiers led by her husband, Lt.-Col Denis Prokopenko, held the Russian army for months before surrendering in May. As the standoff continued, Colonel Prokopenko used his proficiency in English to become something of a global sensation, making videos about life inside the plant and holding lengthy press conferences via a portable satellite link. He and hundreds of other soldiers from the Azov regiment were taken prisoner by the Russians. Some of them have probably been killed. those still alive face execution or long prison terms in Russia. But no one has so far been able to tell Mrs. Prokopenko for sure what happened to her husband. Prokopenko worked as a graphic designer in a Ukrainian grocery store chain. Now, its plans are focused on one issue: the Azovstal iron and steel works in Mariupol.ANTON SKYBA/The Globe and Mail In one of her drawings the steel mill is a giant monster, swallowing a soldier with his arms outstretched. In another, stacks of Azovstal smoke loom menacingly behind the silhouette of a soldier in a field of flowers and a dove. Another depicts a helicopter-shaped helmet carrying fighters to safety. “During this period of time I only make art for myself with my feelings about this war,” Ms Prokopenko said as she laid the drawings on a table in a cafe in Kyiv. “I don’t know when I will have some time to rest. I don’t even know when there will be time for normal sleep, normal food, or a normal state of mind.” He is 27 years old, with light blond hair and soft features that belie a wild intensity that has emerged since the siege of the steel mill. In recent months he has created an association of wives and relatives of the “defenders of Azovstal”, toured European capitals and even met the Pope, all in an effort to secure the freedom of the soldiers. At every stop and every media appearance her message was the same: “Don’t let them die. Don’t let them be forgotten. That’s all we want.” Relatives of Azov fighters hold a protest in Kyiv on August 4, 2022. Anton Skyba/The Globe and Mail She never imagined how her life would turn out. He grew up in Kyiv, an only child who loved animals so much that he refused to eat meat. Her mother died when Ms. Prokopenko was six, leaving her alone with her father, who is also a graphic designer. After studying international relations at university, he spent a few years as a wildlife guide before taking up graphic design. He met Colonel Prokopenko, 31, through social media. He was already serving in the regiment in Mariupol, having quit his job teaching English in Kyiv to join the unit when it was formed in 2014. They bonded over a shared love of nature and similar family backgrounds. Colonel Prokopenko is also an only child who lost a parent at a young age. He was only 8 years old when his father died. They married in 2019, but Colonel Prokopenko’s military service meant they could only see each other a few times a year, enough for a few short hiking trips or ski holidays. He joked that she has gone even faster than him on the tracks. “I had a record of 93 kilometers per hour, this is 91.” After the outbreak of war in February, Mrs Prokopenko became alarmed as the Russian army advanced on Mariupol and eventually surrounded the steel factory. She and other volunteers organized shipments of food and other supplies, never sure if the items would reach the factory. She recalled crying when her husband called to say he had passed on a box of vitamins he had sent. Their last contact was three days after the delivery. He was in Olenivka, a prison camp in Russian-controlled eastern Ukraine. “It was a pretty awesome connection,” he said. “It was a 30-second call. He asked me how I was doing. I answered, but he had already been cut.” Since then, he has endured a stream of rumors and false starts about Colonel Prokopenko’s whereabouts. To make ends meet, he lives in Kyiv with two other Azov wives. “We all stick together in a circle and support each other,” she said. Kateryna Prokopenko (center right) with protesters in Kyiv on August 4, 2022. Anton Skyba/The Globe and Mail One of the hardest blows came last week with news of an attack on Olenivka, where about 1,000 Azov fighters were being held. The Russians claimed 53 Ukrainian POWs killed and 75 wounded. They also accused the Ukrainian military of using a US High Mobility Artillery Missile System, or HIMARS, to strike the camp. The Ukrainian military denied the allegations and said Russian forces killed the captives. Ukrainian intelligence services say satellite images and wiretapped phone calls show a premeditated bombing by Russia’s mercenary unit, the Wagner group. The United Nations has set up a fact-finding mission, but so far no third party has visited the site. There is no doubt that the Russians want the Azov soldiers dead. Russian President Vladimir Putin has described the invasion as an attempt to “de-Nazify” Ukraine, and Azov fighters have featured prominently in Russian propaganda. The unit has controversial links to far-right ideology, but was integrated into the regular Ukrainian army years ago. Some Russian lawmakers have called for the death penalty for the Azov soldiers, and this week Russia’s highest court designated the regiment a terrorist group, meaning the soldiers could face up to 20 years in prison. “It is important to break all the myths about the Azov Regiment because they are real heroes. They are not Nazis,” said Ms. Prokopenko. “They’re just normal guys.” However, he is under no illusions about what the Russian can do to Colonel Prokopenko. “Azov is the most motivated, most patriotic unit in Ukraine,” he said. “So of course they want to kill all the soldiers.” The only solution, he added, was a prisoner exchange or an export operation. On Thursday, he joined two hundred people in Kyiv’s Sofia Square to draw attention to the Olenivka bombing and urge the international community to respond. Ms Prokopenko stood on the sidelines, patiently giving rounds of media interviews. At one point he stopped and turned to look at the crowd. “No one cares. In Europe, all over the world,” she said, her eyes burning. “We are so angry at this indifference. We are so disappointed.”
