Soldier Roman Trokhymenko, call sign PUHACH

My name is Roman. My call sign is Puhach.

Officially, I am Trokhymenko Roman Savovych, born on March 31, 1968, in the town of Vyshneve, which is now practically the western outskirts of Kyiv. That’s where I grew up and finished my 10-year school education. I was married... once. From 1993 to 2021. That’s on paper. In reality—forever, because there will never be another wife.

I almost had a higher education but didn’t complete it: three full years of correspondence studies at the Faculty of Philology at Taras Shevchenko University, specializing in the Ukrainian language.

Since I didn’t have a specific profession, I constantly changed jobs and ways of earning a living, never staying in one place for long. Some personal traits: I have been consistently and “ideologically” Ukrainian-speaking, do not drink alcohol, and do not smoke.

Since 1988, I have been acquainted with and maintained ties with a small circle of people in the Ukrainian cultural-political movement. At that time, men and women imprisoned during the Soviet era for their Ukrainian patriotism and nationalism began returning from prisons and labor camps. In the late 1980s, they reestablished their community, calling it the Ukrainian Helsinki Union (UHS). Viacheslav Chornovil was elected its leader.

From that initiative eventually emerged the well-known People’s Movement of Ukraine (Rukh). I participated in most of the assemblies, rallies, and demonstrations. I was part of the student hunger strike on Independence Square (then October Revolution Square) and participated in both subsequent revolutionary Maidan uprisings.

From September 2018 to September 2021, I served in the Armed Forces of Ukraine under a contract. After three months of training at the Desna Training Center, I served with the 18th Separate Marine Battalion, 35th Marine Brigade. Yes, I am a marine. I earned the right to wear the beret through proper trials.

During that service, about 15–16 months were spent in combat missions on the front line. In 2019, this was near the village of Hranitne in Donetsk region, by the Kalmius River, and near the town of New York (then Novhorodske) in 2020.

After my discharge, I spent just over two months with my family in the town of Talne, in Cherkasy region, at my wife’s parents' home. In November 2021, COVID-19 took my wife and mother from us. Together, we have five children. As of today, they are all adults. Three sons work and study in Kyiv, and two daughters live, study, and work in the United States.

Since February 26, 2022, I have been serving in the 241st Territorial Defense Brigade of Kyiv, 207th Rifle Battalion, 1st Rifle Company.

I have been wounded three times.

For a year, we did not actively participate in the war aside from training. In spring 2023, when we were finally deployed, we were sent to the Soledar direction, stationed in Sloviansk. There, I was selected as part of a group of ten soldiers for an assault on an enemy observation post. We captured the enemy position but were unable to hold it, as heavy mortar fire forced us back. Two of our comrades' bodies remain there to this day.

My first wound was a minor injury (a deep scratch) to my right buttock, which healed quickly. Shortly after, I returned to my unit and resumed service.

The second wound occurred while I was in the bottom of a trench. A cursed VOG grenade from an AGS exploded against a tree above me... leaving a fragment in my liver. It was removed, and though it healed, it was much more painful and took longer than the first wound.

We stayed in that area a bit longer before moving for rest and reorganization in northern Kyiv region. By spring 2024, we were redeployed to combat positions in the Marinka direction.

During my first mission there, we encountered an unprecedented number of enemy drones overhead. For six days, we were forced to hide in "holes." During the evacuation and rotation, we suffered losses. My comrade, call sign Hunya, was killed.

A few days later came my next deployment. There were three of us, tasked with securing a position at a relatively distant location, which we reached after traveling most of the night. We didn’t make it. Enemy drones with explosive payloads forced us to retreat. During the withdrawal, coordinated with our commanders, we rested in a forest strip. Around 5 a.m., something from a drone hit near me (we were spread out). The doctors later determined it severed the central nerve in my upper thigh, caused significant blood loss, and left me with a concussion.

Eventually, I reached my own after about half an hour. That’s where they bandaged me up. But since the Israeli bandage was applied so tightly, functioning as a tourniquet and cutting off everything completely, the resulting "tourniquet syndrome" meant my leg couldn't be saved, even though I was evacuated that same evening.

What did I feel?
Everyone wants to know that...))

Overall, against the backdrop of one dominant state—complete indifference to everything happening to me, rooted in some strange and total absence of fear, I had only two distinct emotional spikes. And even those I can’t really call feelings—more like emotional voids.

The first was when I volunteered for an assault at the end of March 2023. I went there—to die. They looked at me with surprise, stamped me as temporarily insane, and... gave me a kick to the rear.

The second void happened during that final mission. When I was hit by something, I must have taken a good blow to the head because I was clearly in a state of shock, not fully in control. I felt the back of my body (as I curled up in a fetal position when I heard the drone)—the hit came from the right rear. It was wet and torn there. Nothing hurt, but my head was spinning. Full realization that I was bleeding out, accompanied by a calm acceptance or rather, a serene intention: IT'S TIME.

I called out to my comrades a little—no response. I sat down under a tree and waited for my Oksanka: she’ll step out from behind the bushes any moment, we’ll hold hands, and we’ll go together...

I sat there. My mind was cold and clear. Time passed, I got bored. Finally, I realized: NOT YET.

I took off my armor and helmet because I was so weak, grabbed my long Kalashnikov—an RPK, which I used as a crutch—and started searching for my comrades.

My Oksanka didn’t come…))

There was a third—a lighter spike, not a void: in the summer of 2023, before I got hit in the liver by shrapnel, we came under fire from an automatic grenade launcher (the same barrage that later wounded me). 

That was the first time I felt a hint of fear—something akin to the nervous jitters of a hare: “You won’t catch me!”—but nothing more.

This lack of fear was a peculiar kind of trial for me. I wasn’t oblivious; I’ve always considered losing self-control the most unpleasant thing in life. That’s why I quit smoking, and why I never started drinking.

So, realizing that EVERYONE IS AFRAID, BUT I AM NOT, a problem arose: I needed to watch myself to ensure that my indifference didn’t put others in danger.

I will live. I have people to live for—my children, my friends, my family.

I’ve always been very active in life. On certain days, with my friend Kompanichenko and a good group of about 20 people, we were perhaps the first caroling group in Kyiv since the 1960s. Returning to music would bring me joy...

In the military, I learned that I know how to shoot—and that I love it. Though, opportunities to shoot effectively were rare… Circumstances, tools, and... distances.

My son and I have plans for a few projects: construction and, perhaps, some taxi work.

I have a prosthetics ahead. I have a complex amputation and need a prosthesis after a hip joint dislocation. My future prosthesis requires painstaking work by prosthetists, on which a hip, knee and ankle unit will be installed.

In my case, the state allocates UAH 481,869. However, this is not enough for a prosthesis with which I will be able to move freely and lead an active lifestyle. Therefore, an additional payment of UAH 167,982.20 is required. In this regard, I need assistance fromthe Сitizen Charity Foundation.

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There have been changes in the legislation, in terms of regulating prosthetics at the expense of the state budget. In particular, the maximum prices for primary prosthetics for prostheses after amputation in the hip joint have been increased.

Therefore, the prosthesis for PUHACH will be fully paid for by the state, and there is currently no need for charitable assistance.

All funds raised for Roman’s bionic prosthesis will be directed to the rehabilitation of Oleksandr, call sign EDDI.