They call it 'The Hole': Ukrainians describe horrors of Kherson
occupation
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[November 16, 2022]
By Jonathan Landay and Tom Balmforth
KHERSON, Ukraine (Reuters) - Residents in
Ukraine's southern city of Kherson call the two-storey police station
"The Hole". Vitalii Serdiuk, a pensioner, said he was lucky to make it
out alive.
"I hung on," the retired medical equipment repairman said as he
recounted his ordeal in Russian detention two blocks from where he and
his wife live in a tiny Soviet-era apartment.
The green-roofed police building at No. 3, Energy Workers' Street, was
the most notorious of several sites where, according to more than half a
dozen locals in the recently recaptured city, people were interrogated
and tortured during Russia's nine-month occupation. Another was a large
prison.
Two residents living in an apartment block overlooking the police
station courtyard said they saw bodies wrapped in white sheets being
carried from the building, stored in a garage and later tossed into
refuse trucks to be taken away.
Reuters could not independently verify all of the events described by
the Kherson residents.
The Kremlin and Russia's defence ministry did not immediately respond to
questions about Serdiuk's account or that of others Reuters spoke to in
Kherson.
Moscow has rejected allegations of abuse against civilians and soldiers
and has accused Ukraine of staging such abuses in places like Bucha.
On Tuesday, the U.N. human rights office said it had found evidence that
both sides had tortured prisoners of war, which is classified as a war
crime by the International Criminal Court. Russian abuse was "fairly
systematic", a U.N. official said.
As Russian security forces retreat from large swathes of territory in
the north, east and south, evidence of abuses is mounting.
Those held in Kherson included people who voiced opposition to Russia's
occupation, residents, like Serdiuk, believed to have information about
enemy soldiers' positions, as well as suspected underground resistance
fighters and their associates.
Serdiuk said he was beaten on his legs, back and torso with a truncheon
and shocked with electrodes wired to his scrotum by a Russian official
demanding to know the whereabouts and unit of his son, a soldier in the
Ukrainian army.
"I didn't tell him anything. 'I don't know' was my only answer," the
65-year-old said in his apartment, which was lit by a single candle.
'Remember! Remember! Remember!' was the constant response."
'PURE SADISM'
Grim recollections of life under occupation in Kherson have followed the
unbridled joy and relief when Ukrainian soldiers retook the city on
Friday after Russian troops withdrew across the Dnipro River.
President Volodymyr Zelenskiy said two days later that investigators had
uncovered more than 400 Russian war crimes and found the bodies of both
servicemen and civilians in areas of Kherson region freed from Russian
occupation.
"I personally saw five bodies taken out," said Oleh, 20, who lives in an
apartment block overlooking the police station, declining to give his
last name. "We could see hands hanging from the sheets and we understood
these to be corpses."
Speaking separately, Svytlana Bestanik, 41, who lives in the same block
and works at a small store between the building and the station, also
recalled seeing prisoners carrying out bodies.
"They would carry dead people out and would throw them in a truck with
the garbage," she said, describing the stench of decomposing bodies in
the air. "We were witnessing sadism in its purest form."
Reuters journalists visited the police station on Tuesday but were
prohibited from going beyond the courtyard, rimmed by a razor
wire-topped wall, by armed police officers and a soldier who said that
investigators were inside collecting evidence.
One officer, who declined to give his name, said that up to 12 detainees
were kept in tiny cages, an account corroborated by Serdiuk.
Neighbours recounted hearing screams of men and women coming from the
station and said that whenever the Russians emerged, they wore
balaclavas concealing all but their eyes.
"They came in the shop every day," said Bestanik. "I decided not to talk
to them. I was too afraid of them."
RESISTANCE FIGHTERS
Aliona Lapchuk said she and her eldest son fled Kherson in April after a
terrifying ordeal at the hands of Russian security personnel on March
27, the last time she saw her husband Vitaliy.
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Aliona Lapchuk shows a picture of her
husband Vitaliy who she says was tortured and left to die by Russian
forces in Kherson at the beginning of the war, during an interview
with Reuters in Krasne in Mykolaiv region, Ukraine November 15,
2022. REUTERS/Murad Sezer
Vitaliy had been an underground resistance fighter since Russian
troops seized Kherson on March 2, according to Lapchuk, and she
became worried when he did not answer her phone calls.
Soon after, she said, three cars with the Russian "Z" sign painted
on them pulled up at her mother's home where they were living. They
brought Vitaliy, who was badly beaten.
The soldiers, who identified themselves as Russian troops,
threatened to smash out her teeth when she tried to berate them.
They confiscated their mobile phones and laptops, she said, and then
discovered weapons in the basement.
They beat her husband in the basement savagely before dragging him
out.
"He didn't walk out of the basement; they dragged him out. They
broke through his cheek bone," she said, sobbing, in the village of
Krasne, some 100 km (60 miles) west of Kherson.
Lapchuk and her eldest son, Andriy, were hooded and taken to the
police station at 4, Lutheran Street, in Kherson where she could
hear her husband being interrogated through a wall, she said. She
and Andriy were later released.
After leaving Kherson, Lapchuk wrote to everyone she could think of
to try and find her husband.
On June 9, she said she got a message from a pathologist who told
her to call the next day. She knew immediately Vitaliy was dead.
His body had been found floating in a river, she said, showing
photographs taken by a pathologist in which a birth mark on his
shoulder could be seen.
Lapchuk said she paid for Vitaliy to be buried and has yet to see
the grave.
She is convinced her husband was betrayed to the Russians by someone
very close to them.
'THE HOLE'
Ruslan, 52, who runs a beer store opposite the police station where
Serdiuk was held, said that at the beginning of the occupation,
Russian-made Ural trucks would pull up daily before the grey front
door.
Detainees, he said, would be hurled from the back, their hands bound
and heads covered by bags.
"This place was called 'Yama' (The Hole)," he said.
Serhii Polako, 48, a trader who lives across the street from the
station, echoed Ruslan's account.
He said that several weeks into the occupation, Russian national
guard troops deployed at the site were replaced by men driving
vehicles embossed with the letter "V", and that was when the screams
started.
"If there is a hell on earth, it was there," he said.
About two weeks ago, he said, the Russians freed those being kept in
the station in apparent preparation for their withdrawal.
"All of a sudden, they emptied the place, and we understood
something was happening," he told Reuters.
Serdiuk believes he was betrayed by an informant as the father of a
Ukrainian serviceman.
He said Russian security personnel handcuffed him, put a bag over
his head, forced him to bend at the waist and frog-marched him into
a vehicle.
At the station, he was put in a cell so cramped that the occupants
could not move while lying down. On some days, prisoners received
only one meal.
The following day, he was hooded, his hands bound, and taken down to
a cellar room. The interrogation and torture lasted about 90
minutes, he said.
His Russian interrogator knew all of his details and those of his
family, and said that unless he cooperated, he would have his wife
arrested and telephone his son so he could hear both of them
screaming under torture, Serdiuk said.
Two days later, he was released without explanation. His wife found
him outside the shop in which Bestanik works, virtually unable to
walk.
(Tom Balmforth reported from Krasne, Ukraine; Editing by Mike
Collett-White and Philippa Fletcher)
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