Latest news with #Dmytro
LeMonde
27-05-2025
- LeMonde
In Ukraine, behind the prisoner exchanges, the anguish of families of the missing
The rule was unspoken but strictly followed. Ever since Tetyana's husband, Dmytro, joined the Army, they had to send each other a message every day. In the fall of 2024, the 39-year-old Ukrainian was fighting near the small town of Kurakhove in the east of the country, which was under heavy Russian attack. Then on November 5, 2024, he stopped replying. The day before, "We talked about ourselves, about the family, he hadn't mentioned any attacks or particular operations," Tetyana recalled on Sunday, May 25, her eyes hidden behind dark glasses to mask her tears, her shoulders draped in a Ukrainian flag. Soldiers from his brigade informed her a few days later that Dmytro was missing following an enemy assault. His body was never found. Today, Kurakhove is an occupied town. Since then, Tetyana has lived in this limbo – caught between a sense of loss and an inability to grieve as long as there's a glimmer of hope, as long as no body has been recovered. A civil servant at a pension fund, she waited for a sign of life, spending day and night combing through Russian propaganda videos showing captured Ukrainian soldiers, hoping to recognize her husband's face. She now only associates with women who share her fate in her hometown in the central Khmelnytsky region.
Yahoo
04-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Ukrainian Air Force shows programmer behind first interception of a Kinzhal missile
Ukraine's Air Force has released a video featuring the operator of a Patriot air defence system who shot down a Russian Kinzhal hypersonic missile over Kyiv on 4 May 2023 – the first successful interception of such a missile. Source: Ukrainian Air Force Details: The operator's surname is not disclosed; only his first name – Dmytro – is mentioned. He appears in the video with half of his face covered. Quote from Dmytro: "When the war began, I joined the military. I never thought that I, a simple programmer, would master the Patriot system and shoot down a Kinzhal missile." More details: Dmytro explained that he and his colleagues did not initially know that it was a Kinzhal missile targeting Kyiv. Quote: "At that moment, we could see on the screen that it was a ballistic missile, but we initially thought it was just an Iskander. Only after we found the fragments did we realise it was a Kinzhal. Everyone was overjoyed, we congratulated each other. Russia had claimed that the Kinzhal was impossible to intercept, but it turned out that anything can be shot down… This was the first time a Kinzhal hypersonic ballistic missile had been intercepted." Background: During the night of 4 May 2023, a Kh-47 Kinzhal hypersonic missile was successfully intercepted over Kyiv for the first time. The news was first reported by Defense Express on 5 May and confirmed by Mykola Oleshchuk, Commander of Ukraine's Air Force, on 6 May. It was later revealed that the Kinzhal was destroyed by anti-aircraft gunners from the 96th Brigade, who had undergone less than three months of training. On 16 May, they reinforced their success by shooting down six more such missiles. Support Ukrainska Pravda on Patreon!
Yahoo
08-04-2025
- Sport
- Yahoo
Ukrainian wrestling twins need father to get green card to keep Olympic dream alive
The wrestling room is a safe haven for Yevhen Pylypenko and his sons, Dmytro and Maksym Chubenko. It is there, sparring on the mat, where the Ukrainians can escape the political pressure that threatens to disrupt their hopes and dreams. On the mat, there is no need to obtain a green card or to worry that without permanent resident status it is possible the family, which also includes Yevhen's wife, Maryna, and daughter Polina, could be forced to return to Ukraine, the war-torn eastern European nation from which they first fled in the spring of 2022, after Russia invaded. They spent nine months in Croatia before bumping into the director of an Ohio wrestling club who was touring the country with some of his athletes. Brian Church, director of Columbus Wrestling Club, convinced the family to take advantage of the U.S. pathway program for Ukrainian refugees. He invited them to live with him in Worthington, a Columbus suburb, they accepted the offer, and two years later, they still live with Church. But their refugee status has ended, which means the only way they can remain in Columbus long-term is to get the green card, which would allow them to live and work here permanently. They have long wanted to wrestle in the 2028 Summer Olympics in Los Angeles. While their English has greatly improved since they arrived in the US, their chances to represent the United States in Greco-Roman wrestling at the 2028 Games have not. And there is not much they can do about it, except continue to excel at their sport, which they see as a way to show they are contributing to U.S. society. 'We have to go hard at everything. We need to be perfect,' Maksym said a few weeks ago before he, his brother and father left for the U.S. Olympic training camp in Colorado Springs, where they were invited to work out by U.S. Olympic Greco-Roman coach Herb House. If the twins must walk the straight and narrow line, noting that being on their best behavior on and off the mat can only help show that the family is worthy of remaining in the States, then the line their father must toe is even thinner. After all, he is the one who must obtain the green card. 'They want to show they're not the kind of people you don't want in this country,' said Church, adding that Yevhen is an excellent coach who helps train Olympic hopefuls – he helped prepare the USA Under-20 team for the 2024 World Championships – and his sons are gifted wrestlers. The 19-year-old twins each placed at the prestigious Fargo National Championship in 2024, Dmytro at 138 pounds and Maksym at 144. Off the mat, father and sons want to turn America into a Greco-Roman wrestling nation, which is a tall mountain to climb considering the majority of U.S. high school and college wrestling is folk style. (Greco-Roman differs from folk/freestyle mostly in that it does not allow holds below the waist). Talking to the twins offers a study in a type of seriousness – painting with a broad brush here – uncommon to high school students. The seniors at Worthington Kilbourne High School are single-minded in their quest to excel at their craft. Not that they cannot have fun, but there is a soberness, accompanied by a hint of sadness, that permeates their persona. And no wonder, when the threat of deportation hovers like a guillotine. 'We are always thinking about it, concerned about it,' Dmytro said. The family has had to learn to be comfortable being uncomfortable, because the process of obtaining a green card is both costly (legal fees) and lengthy, with no guarantee of a positive outcome. And the thought of returning to Ukraine? Well, as best they can, the twins try not to think about it. Instead, they work. And work. And work. Father. Mother. Sons. They make a living delivering food for DoorDash, cutting down on life expenses by living with Church, who is single. Yevhen volunteers at Columbus Wrestling Club, training young wrestlers from across central Ohio, and planned this month to begin working with the Athletes in Action wrestling team. He is doing his best to prove his worth as a model citizen and positive contributor to U.S. sports. Much is at stake. The twins cannot leave the country without Yevhen obtaining his green card, which means no international competition, which means no shot at making the 2028 Olympic team. 'They're kind of stuck,' Church said. 'They can't compete for spots on the U.S. team because they don't hold passports, and (U.S. wrestling) doesn't want them coming and competing and beating people when they can't travel (internationally).' In addition, what college wants to give scholarships to wrestlers who could get deported in the middle of a season? 'It's a problem,' Church said. 'Because if they end up having to go back (to Ukraine), now you're dealing with, 'Hey, you left. We are not going to do anything for you.' They have no place to live. It would be really bad as far as a living situation.' How valuable to the national greater good must a person be to make a strong case that he or she deserves to remain in the United States? That is the unknown weighing upon Yevhen and his family. 'These past couple months, they're all working almost 12 hours a day,' Church said. It is hard to predict how the story ends. Several U.S. Olympic coaches have written letters in support of Yevhen, pointing out his importance to the team. But letters of support are common among those seeking green cards. Yevhen's heart is in the right place. 'I want to help the state of Ohio,' he said, explaining how the state has 'many sportsmen,' which is an international term for athletes. The proud father, like his sons, tries to remain positive, even as uncertainty swirls. 'It's difficult,' Yevhen said. 'All you can do is keep doing what you are doing today.' Keep working. Keep hoping. Keep the faith. Reach Rob Oller at roller@ or on X @rollerCD. This article originally appeared on The Columbus Dispatch: Ukrainian twins need dad to get green card so they can keep competing
Yahoo
06-04-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Inside the Lives of Ukraine's Tired, Determined Drone Pilots
A column of smoke rises on the horizon, and birds scatter from the trees as the green van barrels down the muddy road. It's January 21, the day after Donald Trump's inauguration, and a Ukrainian Army drone unit is on a reconnaissance mission on the border of the Volnovakha region of Donetsk in Eastern Ukraine. The van comes to a stop under a tangle of branches, concealing it from enemy drones above, and the soldiers jump out. Yevhen, the unit's navigator, unloads a V-shaped drone and begins unspooling cables for the Starlink. Dmytro, the pilot, sets up computers in the back of the van. Serhiy, the technician, puts up two four-meter-high green antennas.* The men pay no attention to the distant bursts of automatic fire and explosions. Within minutes, Serhiy hooks up the drone to a huge slingshot on the edge of a field. The motor screams as the rear propeller spins up, and Yevhen counts down, 'Three, two, one, launch!' Serhiy launches the drone, and it whooshes up into the sky. Dmytro watches the drone's-eye view on his computer, the ground shrinking away. Yevhen, studying a battlefield map marked with enemy positions, vehicles, and fortifications, gives precise instructions to Dmytro. 'Go higher. Ten degrees left.' A pause. 'Five degrees right.' A reconnaissance flight can last hours. With the drone on course, the men settle in. They adjust controls, smoke, and chat. Politics comes up. (Earlier in the day, they laughed at Trump's campaign promise to end the war in a day. 'Maybe today is the last day of war, and tomorrow we go home,' Yevhen said sarcastically.) After 20 minutes, the drone's video feed breaks up. The clouds are too low today, and flying any lower would expose it to enemy fire. 'Recall it,' Yevhen says. Once the drone returns, they move to join an adjacent unit working with kamikaze winged drones a few hundred meters away. Soon after they arrive, one of the soldiers points to the sky, 'FPV! I see it!' The men crouch down. The X-shaped silhouette of an enemy drone circles above the trees. The soldiers stay motionless as the drone buzzes above them—growing louder, then softer, then louder again. There is nothing to do but wait and hope the drone won't find them under the trees before it runs out of battery. 'I flew with FPVs a lot,' Yevhen explains. (FPV stands for first-person view: The pilot's goggles show the drone's-eye view.) 'It's better to move slow and not to run. It is harder for the pilot to see someone who does not move, especially under the trees. I know because I destroyed a lot of Russians that were trying to run away.' After 10 long minutes, the drone leaves and detonates somewhere to the west, and the men get back to work. They prepare their winged kamikaze drone, which is also an FPV but larger than the more common X-shaped drone and thus can fly further and carry larger explosives, making it effective for striking high-priority targets deep behind enemy lines. Days earlier, with their reconnaissance drone, Yevhen's unit had identified an enemy artillery gun hidden in the trees. That's the mission objective for the kamikaze drone, which is now airborne and approaching its target. It darts down in a suicide drop toward the artillery gun, which is only half-hidden by camouflage netting. The video cuts out before impact. The pilot exhales, grins, and stretches his fingers. The men watch the dead screen, waiting. Then Yevhen shakes his head, 'I think it was a miss. You overshot, maybe, by 100 meters.' The sun sinks lower, stretching long shadows through the trees. The temptation is there—to stay, to send up another drone, to try again. But the next flight will have to wait. This is the reality of combat. Most missions are trial and error—misses, signal loss, moving targets. Success comes from persistence, not just one lucky hit. 'Better to try again tomorrow,' Yevhen says, packing up his rifle. The others nod. The war doesn't end tonight, and neither does their the sun sinks below the horizon, the unit returns to its billet, a squat brick house with a slanted roof in a village close to their outpost. Yevhen, Dmytro, and Serhiy drop their gear in the hallway and change their muddy boots for slippers, moving quietly, knowing that after all they are guests in this home. Oleksandr sits in the warm light of the kitchen with a cigarette between his fingers. He has his wife's name tattooed on his hand. 'Come in, come in,' he says, waving Yevhen to smoke with him. He and his wife, Natalia, decided to let the soldiers stay at their home for free. Their own son, Vitalii, is with infantry in one of the hottest spots of the front line, in Pokrovsk, and it comes naturally to the couple to offer a meal, a place to rest, a bit of warmth to Yevhen's unit. The soldiers eat and chat with the elderly couple, but their work for the day hasn't ended yet. They prepare equipment and upload the photos and videos collected from the drone. Throughout the evening, enemy Shahed drones buzz nearby, heading toward central Ukraine. Late at night, a laptop screen lights Serhiy's face as he lies in his sleeping bag, watching a movie. Yevhen, heading out for a cigarette, glances over Serhiy's shoulder. 'That's my movie,' he says. 'I know,' Serhiy replies, grinning. Before the war, Yevhen was an actor. He repeatedly calls it 'a different life' or 'a peace life.' The war has split his life into two unrecognizable halves. Pointing at the screen where his movie plays, he says, 'The director is in the army now.' Then, 'That actor is in the army too. That one was killed in Kupiansk.' A pause. 'And him—he's dead too.' Yevhen joined the army as soon as the full-scale invasion started. 'Once the war ends, I would like to be an actor again,' he says. 'But even if I could, I don't know if I can shoot movies now. I have closed my mind from certain things in war. I don't have an empathy like an actor now. Anyway, my country needs a defender now, not an actor.'In the morning, the green van speeds past the freshly dug trenches, curls of barbed wire, and lines of dragon teeth back to the stretch of trees under which the unit's dugout hides. The trees shiver in the cold wind. The men move through their usual routine, only today joined by a fourth member, Volodymyr. Today, the drone carries a bomb, and that changes the launch procedure. A misfire could detonate the payload, so Serhiy puts together a trebuchet powered by a car battery to catapult the drone safely into the air. Yevhen's unit typically outfits its drones with rocket-propelled grenade warheads, but today they use fragmentation shells. They're submunitions salvaged from unexploded Russian cluster munition rockets. Yevhen laughs, 'Russians sent them here, and they didn't work. No problem—we'll recycle them and send them back for refund.' In the van, a red warning flashes across the screen—incoming glide bombs. A single glide bomb can level an eight-story building. The first two land on the horizon, sending up black mushroom clouds. Then the air cracks above and the third slams into the field next to them. The blast throws dirt and shrapnel in all directions. The shock wave rattles branches, and the men sprint for the dugouts as dirt and shrapnel shower the ground. Silence. Then Serhiy climbs out, brushing dust from his jacket. He picks up a jagged piece of shrapnel that landed less than a meter from where Yevhen was standing when the glide bombs exploded. He examines the van. 'Wheels punctured?' Yevhen glances over. 'No.' No more discussion. After years of fighting, close calls become routine. The men return to their work without a word. Serhiy checks the trebuchet tension. Dmytro confirms the drone's systems. Yevhen gives a final nod. 'Three, two, one—launch.' The trebuchet snaps forward, and the drone shoots into the sky. Luckily, the clouds are high enough today. The screen shows a battlefield carved up by months of war. Below, artillery shells detonate along the front, sending thick clouds of smoke into the sky. 'We will hit the target,' Yevhen says. Serhiy shrugs. 'We will see what happens.' 'You're not romantic.' 'I'm a realist.' The men laugh. On the screen, the target comes into view—a trench line tucked beneath a sparse tree line. A red square with a cross appears, locking onto the position. The drone slows down, stabilizing for the drop. The screen reads, 'Seconds to drop: 3, 2, 1,' and then: 'BOMB DROPPED.' The bomb spins slightly as it falls, shrinking into the landscape below, and then an orange fireball fills the screen. The men barely react. As soon the drone returns, they start preparing for the next launch. Tomorrow will be the same—more drone launches, another long day spent staring at screens and counting down to impact. The work is endless, but here on the front, no one expects it to be otherwise. There is no grand conclusion, no moment of finality, as long as they manage to stay alive. Just the next mission, the next drone flight, and the war that keeps going. * Since the soldiers allowed the photojournalist access without their commander's approval, they asked to be identified only by their first names and call signs.
Associated Press
17-03-2025
- Business
- Associated Press
Ukrainian Artist Dmytro Andrukhov Brings LED Innovation to Chicago
United States, March 17, 2025 -- A wave of LED art is transforming Chicago's streets, restaurants, and cultural landmarks, driven by Ukrainian artist, entrepreneur, and artist Dmytro Andrukhov. With a background in finance and business, holding a Master's in Finance and a Bachelor's in Trade and Exchange, he has channeled his passion for art and technology into an international career. His neon and LED creations extend beyond simple decoration, serving as statements of self-expression, innovation, and sustainability. Through CityNeon, the company he founded, Dmytro merges artistic imagination with cutting-edge technology, infusing new energy into the city's contemporary art scene. His installations do more than illuminate spaces; they transform environments into interactive, social-media-friendly experiences, redefining modern interiors and advertising. Dmytro's idea exceeds traditional neon, using LED technology to redefine art in light. Pliable, eco-friendly, and adjustable LED materials provide creative freedom previously unimaginable. His designs enable firms, restaurants, and galleries to speak for themselves while leaving lasting impressions on visitors. In an era of social media, LED art is a successful marketing vehicle, turning forgotten places into havens everyone must visit. His work also pushes the limits of art by integrating LED with 3D printing and motion sensors, transforming static neon into dynamic and interactive art. Sustainability is a significant factor in his work. His handcrafted 3D-printed neon signs, produced from recycled materials, blend aesthetics with green thinking. While neon itself is usually a less-than-green technology, these newer designs capture the efficiency of LED and retain their commitment to sustainability and modern craftsmanship. Today, his neon and LED art is featured in businesses and private collections across the United States, Japan, Germany, Canada, the United Kingdom, Spain, Italy, Belgium, France, and Ukraine. His installations appear in high-end restaurants, art-forward hotels, and concept stores, making his work a global phenomenon. Unlike traditional decor, LED installations change mood, ambiance, and even the perception of visitors towards a brand. With technology, artists are now able to code light sequences, change colors remotely, and integrate digital content, creating experiences that connect audiences on a deeper level. As Dmytro's exposure in the Chicago art community expands, his artwork will be represented at the reputable Gold Coast Art Fair and Millennium Art Festival during the summer. These extremely prominent events attract thousands of art enthusiasts, collectors, and designers and will offer his innovative neon work an opportunity to receive even greater exposure in the global art community. With his eyes on EXPO CHICAGO 2025 and possible collaborations with interior designers, his artistic presence continues to expand. For media inquiries or potential collaboration, email: Instagram: @cityneonshop Instagram: @cityneonshop From vibrant custom signage enhancing neighborhood pubs to immersive installations in internationally renowned galleries, Dmytro's designs highlight the future of art—one that is bright, limitless, and fueled by imagination. Contact Info: Name: Dmytro Andrukhov Email: Send Email Organization: CityNeon Release ID: 89155338 If there are any errors, inconsistencies, or queries arising from the content contained within this press release that require attention or if you need assistance with a press release takedown, we kindly request that you inform us immediately by contacting [email protected] (it is important to note that this email is the authorized channel for such matters, sending multiple emails to multiple addresses does not necessarily help expedite your request). Our reliable team will be available to promptly respond within 8 hours, taking proactive measures to rectify any identified issues or providing guidance on the removal process. Ensuring accurate and dependable information is our top priority.
