Petro V. Fedoriaka

He graduated from Kharkiv State University, worked for some time as a mathematics teacher at a vocational school in the village of Kegychivka, located in the Kharkiv region, then taught physics, mathematics, and computer science in schools in the village of Trudolyub, Mirhorod district, Poltava region. Later, he became a private entrepreneur, one of the most famous blacksmiths and weaponsmiths in Ukraine, and the founder of the Ukrainian blacksmith festival of knife makers "Trudolyub." He was passionate about tourism and taught himself English. In April 2014, he was mobilized as a volunteer into the ranks of the Armed Forces of Ukraine. His wife, Valentyna Mykolaivna, said: "Petro and his friends didn't have time for hair to grow on their arms — they shaved it off while checking the sharpness of the blades. Knives made of Damascus steel easily cut through wood and paper. He mostly learned the technique of making them from literature and willingly shared his knowledge with others. He believed that the more competitors there were, the better. When the war in Donbas started, he transported knives to the front in boxes. They are probably still being used by militants now. When a column was destroyed near Shakhtarsk, in which a platoon of anti-aircraft gunners under Petro's command was breaking through the encirclement, the terrorists took everything from the dead: weapons, bulletproof vests, amulets, phones, money… The fighters loved him very much. He was impossible not to love. Petro easily found common ground with everyone fate brought him together with. He boasted that he built a tandoor in the field — an eastern oven where he baked flatbreads for the guys. He would go to the surrounding villages and return with food — the locals generously treated him. Petya himself was a selfless, generous person. "We need to make people happy," he would say, gathering neighbors and friends at our home for pilaf, shashlik, or flatbreads. Even when we visited Andriyashivka, where everyone was already strangers to us, he organized a gathering for relaxation by the riverbank. On July 30, the positions of our soldiers near Shakhtarsk began to be shelled. All the anti-aircraft guns of Petro's platoon were destroyed. I spent that whole day kneeling in front of the icons. In the evening, my husband called. To say goodbye. He felt that he wouldn't come out of that hell alive. "Valyushenko, we have such beautiful daughters and sons-in-law, they will manage without us," he was preparing me for the worst. As always, he said he loved me and promised to return soon… My husband died at 3:00 AM on July 31. Together with the remnants of his company, he tried to break out on three BMPs from Shakhtarsk, which by that time had already been occupied by the Russian "Oplot," consisting of well-trained special forces. At that moment, a tank came out to meet them from the city park. A shell hit the vehicle in which Petya was. He and six of his combat comrades died instantly. The hardest part was hiding the truth from my mother-in-law. She kept asking why Petya wasn't calling. Imagine how hard it was for me to respond calmly that there was no mobile connection in the area where he was. But still, someone in the village let it slip. Petro's mother had a sudden spike in blood pressure, and three days later, she was gone. It turned out that neither the son buried his mother, nor the mother buried her son…