Oleksandra Bezsmertna

Glib Stryzhko Please introduce yourself and tell us who you are.

Oleksandra Bezsmertna My name is Oleksandra Bezsmertna, I’m a veteran of the Armed Forces of Ukraine. I am currently on maternity leave. Despite everything, after 14 years of service, I decided to have a baby.

Glib Stryzhko How did you end up joining the military? What was your service like?

Oleksandra Bezsmertna I joined the Armed Forces in 2011. It was a conscious decision on my part. After high school, I chose a career in the military. In 2016, I graduated from the National Ground Forces Academy with a degree in cultural studies, my specialization was “Cultural and Educational Work and Leisure in the Armed Forces.” Our Armed Forces underwent many changes since 2014, the positions I was able to hold varied greatly. In 2016, I started my service in the Ukrainian Navy. Our units were called the naval base back then. Later, I joined the Marine Corps as well. That is when I was baptized by fire. In December 2016, I went to the combat zone for the first time. And until now… The war has been going for a long time, but we fight for our happiness. I served in the Marine Corps for four years, then decided to continue my service in the Special Operations Forces. By the time I went on parental leave, I held the rank of lieutenant colonel in the Special Operations Forces.

Glib Stryzhko Did you serve on ships when in the Corps?

Oleksandra Bezsmertna The Ukrainian Navy is just one branch of the military. I started in 2016 at the Southern naval base in Mykolaiv, in a land-based Coast Guard unit. My role was basically “club commander” without a club — after Crimea’s occupation, units had relocated, there were barely any people, equipment, or proper facilities. In the first months, personnel were literally living and working on crates. Things gradually improved, but I wanted more. I couldn’t just sit still while many of my peers were already fighting in the east. So I joined the Marine Corps, where there was a shortage of personnel and room to grow. I took a position as a press officer, just as military press services were being formed. We started building the image of a modern marine: showing real people, their actions, their sacrifices. I later became head of the press service and helped develop communications within the Marine Corps Command, created in 2018. I was ambitious and wanted to grow further, but things don’t always go as planned. Still, my four years in the Marines were among the best in my career. Even now, serving elsewhere, it remains like a family, we still support each other. They say once a marine, always a marine, and that’s true. I’m proud I contributed to building today’s Marine Corps.

Glib Stryzhko What are you focused on today? What brings you joy right now?

Oleksandra Bezsmertna Motherhood. It’s just one word, but I could talk about it endlessly. Once, in 2020 a journalist asked me in a combat zone near Mariupol, what my biggest dream was. I said, I want a child. Some dream about a career, or good weapons. I wanted a child. My dream came true, and this is what I focus on, and what makes me happy: my child.

Glib Stryzhko Are there places you like to revisit in your mind because they bring you joy?

Oleksandra Bezsmertna Mariupol before the full-scale invasion. I have lived there a lot since 2016, but also in Shyrokyne, and the places nearby became very dear to me — Vodyane, Pavlopil, Talakivka. These places bear so many stories, life and death. We saw soldiers grow into young officers; we saw people saving each other’s lives. We saw it all; we learned to share the joy of our victories with our fellow marines and to mourn our shared losses, even before the full-scale invasion. Despite the war, life there was in full swing.

Glib Stryzhko What is your most vivid memory of this city?

Oleksandra Bezsmertna In Mariupol, closer to the sea, everything always bloomed earlier. I adore spring, to me, it’s the symbol of life. Yes, there were shellings, and everything was overgrown, but there was wildlife, flowers were blooming, and between shellings, it was quiet and peaceful. And everything was clear. The enemy is over there, we know what to do, we see our target, we believe in ourselves. The losses were hard on us, but in war, there’s no way around it. Yet still every day brought hope and a chance for a new life, for victory, and a fantasy of how this place is going to bloom when the war ends.

Glib Stryzhko Now let’s talk a little about joy during and after the service. Do you remember a moment during the service when you burst out laughing?

Oleksandra Bezsmertna Yes. It was during my last days in the Marine Corps. We were stationed at the Oleshky Sands for training and preparation before deploying to the combat zone in Mariupol in 2020. There, I met my husband, and instead of staying for two weeks, I spent a month there. We began seeing each other, but we were in the army, and I’m very proper. I couldn’t allow myself to walk hand-in-hand with a guy on the training ground, we were on duty, after all. Once, I suggested we go for a walk, but forgot and went for a jog. Meanwhile, he came to the meeting spot and sat and waited. He sat there for three hours and waited, like Hatiko. I came back, showered, and went to bed. It was curfew. And then he texted me: When are you coming? I’m still waiting. Then, I realized he’s been sitting there for three or four hours. I felt so awkward, but I laughed so hard! Other stories weren’t as significant. Once, we were staying in the basement of a ruined building in Vodiane. We were shot at, the basement was falling apart a little, and we were surrounded by rats. In my sleep, I heard them run over me and squeak. Listening to creatures running on top of me was so exhausting that one night after three weeks, I said: guys, I’m getting into my sleeping bag, let me sleep for an hour, and then it’s your turn. I said that to the rats! Everybody was laughing.

Glib Stryzhko What helped you stay grounded during your rotation? Maybe you had some personal rituals that helped you stay afloat and keep your spirits up?

Oleksandra Bezsmertna Before 2020, I was single and living alone for about four years. So, when everyone took their time off, their families met them in Mykolaiv, but I had no one. It was hard for me, which is why I always wanted to get back to work as soon as possible. In the combat zone, you’re never alone. So, when I got days off while stationed near Mariupol, I… went to Mariupol. I had friends there, so I went to the sea in my civilian clothes. I felt safe, even if it wasn’t. There’s something like a “return syndrome.” After long rotations in combat zones, people get exhausted, but once they rotate out, they still want to go back. Almost everyone does. Even now, during the full-scale war, especially those who fought before mobilization, they’re tired, drained, but still want to return. Because there, everything is clear: you know what to do, you know where the enemy is. Back in civilian life, it feels chaotic. You lose your sense of normal routine and start craving that military rhythm again, because that’s where you feel needed and important. So, that feeling was what kept me grounded.

Glib Stryzhko I wanted to talk about the feeling of joy. You spent almost 14 years serving. But now you’re a civilian. What did joy feel like back then and does now? Did the feeling change?

Oleksandra Bezsmertna You can leave the army, but the army won’t leave you. Even though I’m on maternity leave, the army didn’t leave me completely. I read the news, I talk to friends who serve. I still know what the situation is like on the frontlines, in the units I once served. I know what we lack, and what our wins are. I may be on leave, but I’m still in the military. I’m just in a different role for now, which is called a mom. What brought me joy before parenthood? Many things. First and foremost, people, and being helpful. The seeds I sowed grew. It’s like a gardener sowing a field and seeing what it yields.

Glib Stryzhko But what is it that brings joy to you as a civilian?

Oleksandra Bezsmertna The child and everything associated with it. Daily life and understanding. I see and I understand how my child grows. It’s so incredibly cool. Before, my work was my seed: and it would grow into good deeds, actions, and results. But now I’ve given birth to a child, I watch it grow, watch it develop into its own person. I see myself living on in my child, just as restless as I used to be. I find happiness in music. I really love music. I played the piano for nine years. It calmed me down. When I had health problems, I healed myself with music. It relieved my headaches.

Glib Stryzhko Classical music?

Oleksandra Bezsmertna Everything. Rock music, including Ukrainian. Kvitka Cisyk. Depends on my mood and the intensity of the headache. In 2022, while my husband was still in captivity, I couldn’t listen to music at all. Nothing helped. I just couldn’t. When he returned, about two months later, we drove to the Carpathians — we went to Vorokhta for rehabilitation. And in the car, I started listening to music.

Glib Stryzhko Do you remember what it was ?

Oleksandra Bezsmertna Axel Rudi Pell. I remember him best, but I listened to a lot of rock music. The other thing that brought me joy was riding a motorbike. I was still serving when I got my category A license and bought myself a Harley-Davidson. And learned how to ride a motorbike. My husband puts his heart and soul into his motorbike too — it’s his therapy during war. All 11 years. He started riding in 2014 and never stopped.

Glib Stryzhko Do you consider joy and its public expressions to be a sign of strength?

Oleksandra Bezsmertna Yes. You can look at it this way: when something tragic happens, we speak about it loudly. It’s the same with joy. Not in order to show off. I know this from my own experience. When my husband returned from captivity and called me, I wanted to shout it to the world. For months, while he was in captivity, people quietly supported me, sending messages like, “We know this is hard, we’re thinking of you, reach out if you need anything.” We were all waiting for that moment. And when it finally happened, I wanted to share it not just as my happiness, but as a message to others in similar situations: believe, hold on, keep hoping, it’s worth it. Because one day you might get to feel that same overwhelming joy when your loved one comes back alive. We need to speak about these moments. They give hope. If we only share obituaries, it will crush us. So, we should talk loudly about joy, even the small kind.

Glib Stryzhko Alright. What was the most unexpected joy in your life?

Oleksandra Bezsmertna There were two of them. The call about my husband returning from captivity. And when I learned about my pregnancy.

Glib Stryzhko How come? I get that there’s little advance notice, and it is always news out of the blue. But the pregnancy, how come it was unexpected?

Oleksandra Bezsmertna We were trying for a while, planning, hoping, but it just wasn’t happening. Then it finally did. Even before getting pregnant, I kept taking tests, dreaming about a baby, imagining how I’d share the news. I wanted it so much. But we lost that pregnancy, and it was a shock: pain, surgery, and a strict recommendation not to try again for at least six months. I went through treatment, and as soon as it ended, without even really planning, it happened again. I didn’t expect it so soon. I had a follow-up exam scheduled three months after surgery, but when I called the clinic, the administrator suggested coming a week later instead of the next day. If I had gone “the next day,” I might not be holding my son now. It felt like someone was looking out for me. In July 2023, I found out by accident — because I had no symptoms. I even expected something else entirely from life at that moment. I took a test, left it, came back, and saw two lines. I started crying. I’d been told it might take time after surgery, that I might need more treatment, but it just happened. After that, I was very careful. I waited, cherished every moment, especially the ultrasound visits. I really wanted those 3D photos, but it never worked out. My son kept turning the wrong way and moving too much.

Glib Stryzhko Nice. The next section is called “About People, Dreams, and Hopes.” There will be three questions here. Is there someone who makes you feel happier?

Oleksandra Bezsmertna So far, my child. I also share this joy with my husband, because we’ve been through a lot. A lot. Sometimes I even think: why so many trials for two of us? But we’ve become stronger because of it. When Serhii is by my side, I feel happier. I’ve already said in an interview that he’s my wall, behind which I feel comfortable and safe.

Glib Stryzhko That sounds great. Okay. How would you define joy in wartime?

Oleksandra Bezsmertna In today’s reality, joy in war is different for everyone. For some, even death can bring joy, if the pain or the loss becomes unbearable. I believe that life is worth fighting for. But I’ve seen a lot of grief, too. At the same time, joy in war can be the birth of a child, like in my case. It can be a loved one returning from captivity, or simply finding out they’re alive after a long silence. Even recovering a body for burial can bring a kind of relief. As people say, the worst thing is not dying, but being never found. Sometimes joy is as simple as: “It didn’t explode.” That counts too.

Glib Stryzhko Okay. Now for our quick final round. What does joy smell like to you?

Oleksandra Bezsmertna Pastries and books — not e-books, but real hardcover books — flowers, the sound of laughter, and the scent of ripening raspberries. Strawberries, wild raspberries. Peace, security, and certain images and visions from my dreams. My dream is a house where children run around, the smell of pastries fills the air, and there is a library.

Glib Stryzhko Great, great. Okay. What memory keeps you going on tough days?

Oleksandra Bezsmertna There were days when it was very hard, and I turned to a higher power, prayed, and made promises: I beg of You, if You do this for me, I’ll do this in return. I’ve kept that promise ever since. This promise is what keeps me afloat, because if it’s hard right now, then it must be for a reason. It’s not a punishment, but a preparation for something. It was like that with Serhii and his captivity: when he returned, I felt overwhelming joy. It was like that with the birth of my child, too: before that came the pain of loss. So I see it this way: it won’t always be bad, it won’t always hurt. It hurts today, but tomorrow can be bright, and you’ll laugh again. That belief keeps me going: the pain is temporary, but joy and meaning last.

Glib Stryzhko What brings you joy, a sense of elation, and a zest for life?

Oleksandra Bezsmertna Lately, it’s been faith. Despite all the negativity, the difficult situation on the front, and everything we’re going through. There’s still faith in our victory, and a conscious choice to keep believing, while also doing something and encouraging others to act. People often ask family members that are in the military, “What’s happening? When will it end?”. In my family, my role is to explain things: don’t trust fakes, donate, help, support others, believe in something better. My mom once told me about the women she volunteers with, weaving camouflage nets. Despite everything they’ve been through — some have missing sons, some lost homes, some lived under occupation — they keep working, still optimistic. It’s like they’re weaving life itself. All of them are connected by this war, and together they’re weaving Ukraine back into one whole. And who am I to break that faith, or diminish what they’re doing? It reminds me of what you once said: humanity goes on. There have always been wars, but life continues, because people keep living, keep having children, even in the hardest times. We’re not the first or the last to go through this. But there’s still hope, still a belief that we will endure. At least, we’ll do everything we can to make sure of it. Because more than anything, we don’t want our children to live in captivity.

Glib Stryzhko Okay. And one last question, a pretty creative one. Describe it in colors, shapes, and every detail.

Oleksandra Bezsmertna If I had to name a color of joy, it’s blue, like the clear sky. There was a time I deeply missed a calm, bright summer sky with white clouds, a sky where nothing dangerous flies. I used to take it for granted, but now I value it a lot. That peaceful blue means safety to me. The sound of joy is music, any kind, depending on my mood. The smell is fresh baking. I once read a Mary Roach book where she mentioned that during World War I, the smell of fresh bread would make soldiers leave the trenches. For me, that smell is childhood, safe, carefree, full of hope. When we were younger, we didn’t think about war; we thought about all the good things: ice cream, summer, cherries, and the pond. Home smelled like what my grandmother baked. As for its shape, joy looks like little children in parks. Seeing so many kids, especially in places like Irpin, genuinely moves me. It means life goes on: women raising children even during war, often while their partners are at the front. I admire them, and our people as a whole. These simple images — sky, music, warmth, children — are what keep me going.