BY NOLAN PETERSON
"The hardest part is not going to the front line. But returning is hard, too."
GLEB GARANICH/REUTERS
Kiev, Ukraine—The young man never told anyone he was going to war.
The 20-year-old student at Kiev’s Taras Shevchenko National University slipped away in June
2014 to join a civilian paramilitary group fighting in eastern Ukraine.
The young man, whose name was
Sviatoslav Horbenko, was a star pupil at the university’s Institute of
Philology, where he studied Japanese. When he transferred from a university in Kharkiv, a city in eastern Ukraine, during his third year,
he had to retake 17 exams.
He aced them all.
“There was no bellicose air
about him,” said Serhiy Yanchuk, an associate professor at Taras Shevchenko
University and coordinator of the university’s Students Guard, a volunteer
militia comprising students and faculty.
“He never acted or behaved
aggressively for his personal cause,” Yanchuk said. “He was friendly, warm
hearted, and an easy-going person. One would surely want to be a friend of such
a guy.”
“He was an exceptional
student,” said Ivan Bondarenko, a professor who heads the university’s
Institute of Philology. “And he was an inspiration to all of us.”
Horbenko’s angular features
and piercing eyes distinguished him physically, reflecting the intensity of his
inner convictions. His work ethic and natural intelligence set him apart from
his peers academically, inspiring high hopes for the future among those who
knew him well.
Horbenko’s father, Olexander
Horbenko, is a surgeon. He volunteered to treat wounded protesters in Kiev
during the 2014 revolution.
The younger Horbenko was
active in pro-revolution groups in Kharkiv, where he was studying at the time.
As the revolution became violent in February 2014, Olexander Horbenko
encouraged his son to transfer to Kiev to continue his studies due to the
threat of reprisals against protesters by authorities in Kharkiv.
At his father’s behest, the
younger Horbenko moved to Kiev and settled into life and his studies at Taras
Shevchenko National University.
And then, a few months after
the war began in the summer of 2014, Sviatoslav Horbenko disappeared. Without
telling his friends, family, or teachers, he joined Right Sector, a civilian volunteer battalion,
to fight at the battle for the Donetsk airport.
Olexander Horbenko ultimately
was able to track Sviatoslav down at boot camp. The father tried to dissuade
his son from going to war. But Sviatoslav was determined.
“That was my last meeting with
him alive, our unforgettable conversation,” Olexander Horbenko later said.
“Sviatoslav considered defending his fatherland as his duty, and he developed
the strong bonds of military comradeship.”
At their parting, the elder
Horbenko placed a necklace with an icon and a cross around his son’s neck. It
was the same necklace worn by his own father—Sviatoslav’s grandfather—during
World War II when he fought the Nazis. And Olexander had worn it as he
weathered sniper fire on the Maidan during the revolution.
“And I let him go,” Olexander
Horbenko said. It was the last time he saw his son alive.
In September 2014, Sviatoslav
Horbenko stepped onto the battlefield for the first time. One month later, on
October 3, 2014, he ran into the line of fire to rescue a wounded comrade.
While Horbenko dragged the man
to safety, a tank shot at them. A piece of shrapnel from the round went into
Horbenko’s neck, slicing his carotid artery. He was dead within minutes. As for
the soldier he had run out to save—he survived.
“Death takes the best of us,”
said Denys Antipov, an instructor at Taras Shevchenko University and a veteran
of the war in eastern Ukraine.
Because Horbenko served in a
civilian volunteer battalion, he is not officially recognized as a combatant by
the Ukrainian government. He has not received any posthumous decorations, and
his family has not received the compensation of about $23,000 that typically is
given to the families of fallen soldiers.
“His family feels really
humiliated by such ignorance,” said Yanchuk, the professor who
coordinates the university’s Students Guard.
The 20-year-old student at Kiev’s Taras Shevchenko National University slipped away in June
2014 to join a civilian paramilitary group fighting in eastern Ukraine.
The young man, whose name was
Sviatoslav Horbenko, was a star pupil at the university’s Institute of
Philology, where he studied Japanese. When he transferred from a university in Kharkiv, a city in eastern Ukraine, during his third year,
he had to retake 17 exams.
He aced them all.
“There was no bellicose air
about him,” said Serhiy Yanchuk, an associate professor at Taras Shevchenko
University and coordinator of the university’s Students Guard, a volunteer
militia comprising students and faculty.
“He never acted or behaved
aggressively for his personal cause,” Yanchuk said. “He was friendly, warm
hearted, and an easy-going person. One would surely want to be a friend of such
a guy.”
“He was an exceptional
student,” said Ivan Bondarenko, a professor who heads the university’s
Institute of Philology. “And he was an inspiration to all of us.”
Horbenko’s angular features
and piercing eyes distinguished him physically, reflecting the intensity of his
inner convictions. His work ethic and natural intelligence set him apart from
his peers academically, inspiring high hopes for the future among those who
knew him well.
Horbenko’s father, Olexander
Horbenko, is a surgeon. He volunteered to treat wounded protesters in Kiev
during the 2014 revolution.
The younger Horbenko was
active in pro-revolution groups in Kharkiv, where he was studying at the time.
As the revolution became violent in February 2014, Olexander Horbenko
encouraged his son to transfer to Kiev to continue his studies due to the
threat of reprisals against protesters by authorities in Kharkiv.
At his father’s behest, the
younger Horbenko moved to Kiev and settled into life and his studies at Taras
Shevchenko National University.
And then, a few months after
the war began in the summer of 2014, Sviatoslav Horbenko disappeared. Without
telling his friends, family, or teachers, he joined Right Sector, a civilian volunteer battalion,
to fight at the battle for the Donetsk airport.
Olexander Horbenko ultimately
was able to track Sviatoslav down at boot camp. The father tried to dissuade
his son from going to war. But Sviatoslav was determined.
“That was my last meeting with
him alive, our unforgettable conversation,” Olexander Horbenko later said.
“Sviatoslav considered defending his fatherland as his duty, and he developed
the strong bonds of military comradeship.”
At their parting, the elder
Horbenko placed a necklace with an icon and a cross around his son’s neck. It
was the same necklace worn by his own father—Sviatoslav’s grandfather—during
World War II when he fought the Nazis. And Olexander had worn it as he
weathered sniper fire on the Maidan during the revolution.
“And I let him go,” Olexander
Horbenko said. It was the last time he saw his son alive.
In September 2014, Sviatoslav
Horbenko stepped onto the battlefield for the first time. One month later, on
October 3, 2014, he ran into the line of fire to rescue a wounded comrade.
While Horbenko dragged the man
to safety, a tank shot at them. A piece of shrapnel from the round went into
Horbenko’s neck, slicing his carotid artery. He was dead within minutes. As for
the soldier he had run out to save—he survived.
“Death takes the best of us,”
said Denys Antipov, an instructor at Taras Shevchenko University and a veteran
of the war in eastern Ukraine.
Because Horbenko served in a
civilian volunteer battalion, he is not officially recognized as a combatant by
the Ukrainian government. He has not received any posthumous decorations, and
his family has not received the compensation of about $23,000 that typically is
given to the families of fallen soldiers.
“His family feels really
humiliated by such ignorance,” said Yanchuk, the professor who
coordinates the university’s Students Guard.
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