03.23.2014 Radio Svobova

Translated and edited by Voices of Ukraine

Story, Images and Video Source: http://www.svoboda.mobi/a/25306468.html



The last Ukrainian warship in Big Sevastopol Bay was seized.

“Seryi [colloquial for Serhiy], Seryi! Sit in your cabin and keep your nose out of it! And open your doors, [because] these scumbags will kick them out anyway,” a crew-cut man of about 35 in a tracksuit yelled into the phone. – And tell the Old Guy [moniker] to keep his nose out of it, too!”

“And I am a rat, I abandoned my ship today,” the other man suddenly noted dejectedly. He was of a stocky but very stout built. He was obviously drunk and looked very worried while observing the tugboat approaching the Ukrainian warship, with a couple dozen burly guys clearly visible on it. It was 5:30 pm on Saturday, March 22, 2014.

The next morning, around 11 am, after receiving information about the impending assault on the “Slavutych” but unsure about its exact time, I found a convenient observation spot inbetween the military base fences. The ship is plain to see from the spot. To get to the “Slavutych” mooring, one must use the ferry. “Jupiter” is the name of our motorboat. The man with a bull neck, who sat behind me, had a manpurse with him. He kept talking busily on the phone about sending “a group of guys to offer support to the Interior MInistry” in Simferopol. Someone called him. I shuddered. Instead of a musical ringtone – an explosion, machine gun fire, and a shout: “everyone lie down with your faces to the floor, will shoot to kill!” blared from the cell phone. The man answered it, “Hi, Katya!”

The national flag of Ukraine was waving on the nose of the “Slavutych” blocked by two Russian ships. There were some people visible on the deck, it was obvious that some of them were leaving “Slavutych” dressed in civilian clothes and holding oh-so-familiar plastic bags. (For some reason, the black bags labeled BMW were the most numerous [among those people]). A couple in their fifties, a man and a woman, came up the hill on which I decided to wait for the “storming.” They began to examine the “Slavutych.” “Do you have someone there?” I asked. “Acquiantances,” the man in camouflage pants replied evasively. “They betrayed the boys,” he sadly added. “No order, no directives. They only threaten them with the court [case] in Ukraine.” The man moved to the side, trying to figure out if it was possible to approach the ship somehow. It caught the attention of Russian sailors on guard, who made it clear they would not let [us] in. “You must be a journalist?” the woman carefully asked me. I said yes and immediately asked her permission to use the dictophone. I was not surprised by the refusal, but we started talking. “This euphoria has started to dissipate,” she said. “People are beginning to realize that they might not be able to see their relatives, that there could be war. I am not against Russia. But it is impermissible to just take [part of a country] and cut if off! Back in February, no one could have imagined Crimea being part of Russia. But the things that have started happening before the referendum! It’s amazing how fast people can change their mind.

I am sad for Ukraine and feel ashamed for Russia!

The woman approached her companion and whispered something to him. He looked at me fast and came up. “You can write this or not, but I will tell you: Ukrainians campaigned to move me, a Soviet Fleet officer, to their side, but no one, do you hear me, no one ever humiliated anybody or put them with their face down under a gun!” The man was visibly upset, and I thought he started to feel unwell. “And why is the “Sevastopol self-defense” seizing the ships, and not Russian militaries?” I asked. He smiled, “It seems ‘as if’ not the enemy but ‘dissatisfied citizens’ want to storm the ship, and it is ‘seemingly’ impermissible to shoot at them. Although these self-defense units have special forces in their midst – you can see from a mile away it’s them just by the way they walk. ‘Self-defense’ won’t be able to seize the warship by themselves! I am sad for Ukraine and feel ashamed for Russia!”

Four hours later, when I came back to the hill I’d taken a liking to, I was no longer able to climb it. The guard (two men with automatic machine guns, one flirting with a girl in a skimpy skirt) stopped me. “Why can’t I have a look?” I asked them. “Even we are not looking!” said one of the sailors in such a tone as if his “buddies” had taken him behind a corner to “pummel” their strongly erring friend. But I had no desire to watch how a couple of them beat another. It is shameful…

“Let’s go to the pier,” a man who also tried to go up the hill waved at me. I hurried after him. There were also a man and a woman around 45 years of age, and a girl of about 12. The man was wearing a suit and tie, she wore a long coat with heels, and the girl had a colorful bow in her braid. “My son will participate in the attack,” said the woman, reminding her husband to get the camera ready. “He also stormed the ‘Ternopil’ [another Ukrainian warship],” she proudly told me. We stood there for a long time. The girl got bored, and the man got cold fast. They left.

I could see “Slavutych” quite well from the pier, but it was still too far. By 5 pm, people started to arrive. The fisherman who sat there for a while, despite the poor fishing, was rather verbose: “Their captain on the ‘Slavutych’ is stubborn. He says, “I will not surrender, will shoot to kill. 40% of his crew is already on land. The contractors jumped into the water and swam to the shore. Their mothers picked them up and took them home. Many of them are from Crimea.” The fisherman scolded the authorities in Kyiv and told horror stories (“he certainly knows”) that typically happen to Ukrainian servicemen who decide to leave Crimea.

Meanwhile, the tugboat started approaching the “Slavutych.” “It has started,” sighed the man who called “Seryi” on the phone. Somewhere a female voice started shouting “Russia, Russia! Surrender!” “Go to h… ,” cussed one of the men standing on the pier. And started dialing the phone number: “How are you [doing] there?”

Through the loudspeaker, the servicemen on the “Slavutych” warned about the illegality of the actions of those on the tugboat. Then they started playing the “Varyag” melody [originally celebrated the Russian cruiser Varyag’s military feat]. “They have not created their own song!” grinned another man mischievously who also observed the events.

Video link to Slavutych team playing “Varyag” melody:

http://flashvideo.rferl.org/Videoroot/Pangeavideo/2014/03/0/01/01dce4c6-ec38-4a99-a8ef-d915b5fe3673_mobile.mp4

“I wrote my report today and submitted the letter of resignation,” said the young man who called himself a rat that abandoned the ship, almost crying. His name was Mykola, and until today, he served as a midshipman on the Slavutych. “And what was I supposed to do? Who should I fight against? What should I fight for? I spent four weeks on the ship! Where should I go, to [mainland] Ukraine? And serve time in prison from 5 to 7 years? My mother is disabled, and my child is in the first grade at Sevastopol gymnasium! My wife. How am I supposed to help them?! Ask them to wait for me while I serve time?” I ask him if he is sure that he will be imprisoned. He says that he is absolutely sure – “three contractors that wrote resignation letters were arrested in Kherson, the information has been verified at military recruitment offices.” “I have nothing against Ukraine, until 11 am this morning I was a true Ukrainian. But my wife called me and said – don’t you dare! So, I’d rather get drunk today. And start my service on the Russian “Slavutych” tomorrow. I know they will tow it to the eleventh pier.”

Mykola’s monologue, filled with obscenities, flows against the sledgehammer blows – “self-defense” guys who climbed “Slavutych” are trying to break the Captain’s cabin. There is an explosion. “Grenades are in action,” comments someone. The photograph with scattered people on the decks reminds one of a pirate attack. Nearby, the motorboat with “little green men” armed with machine guns circles the warship. They are not interfering yet into the “act of civil discontent.” It gets dark in a flash. The attackers ask to turn on the projectors. Open doors can be seen in the light. Shots are fired, but who shoots who is unclear. What is clear is that everything has come to an end. And the remaining Ukrainian flag in the Sevastopol Bay is gone – it was ripped off first.

Among those who observed the seizure of the “Slavutych” was a young woman of about 23 y.o., who did not utter a word during the whole duration of the attack. The attackers have raided the ship’s interior. The defenders had no chance of escape. It became cold. March, after all. It got so dark it was practically impossible to see anything, but she could not keep her eyes off the ship. I didn’t ask her who she had on that ship.