On September 3, 2025, a Russian court sentenced four Ukrainian prisoners of war — Lieutenant Colonel Andriy Antonenko, Captain Andriy Kulysh, Second Lieutenant Denys Tkachenko, and Sergeant Oleksii Mazurenko. All were found guilty of so-called “terrorism” for actions carried out on Russian territory in 2023. According to prosecutors, they participated in a sabotage mission targeting critical infrastructure — railways, a fuel depot, and power lines — and operated drones near a strategic airbase in Kaluga region. However, the facts of the case, the defendants' own testimonies, and international humanitarian law all point clearly to one thing: this was not terrorism, but a lawful military operation during an armed conflict. What took place was not a trial in the legal sense — it was a violation of the Geneva Conventions and an attempt to criminalize resistance to aggression.
All four men are professional service members of the Armed Forces of Ukraine, carrying out a special operation authorized by military command. During the trial, they stated they wore official uniforms, carried standard-issue weapons, and acted within the scope of a combat mission on enemy territory. They met all criteria of lawful combatants under the Geneva Conventions. Furthermore, they were instructed to avoid contact with civilians and not to cause harm to non-combatants. They strictly followed these rules: not a single civilian was harmed. Their targets were exclusively military sites used by Russia in its war against Ukraine. The destruction of a Tu-22M3 strategic bomber — one of Russia’s key weapons in its missile attacks on Ukrainian cities — confirms that this was a combat mission within an armed conflict, not a crime against civilians.
The sentences of 26 to 28 years in prison reflect not only the Russian judiciary’s disregard for international law, but also cast doubt on any possibility of fair treatment for Ukrainian POWs. Such blatant violations of the Geneva Conventions are rarely seen so openly in modern history. The conventions clearly state that no soldier fighting on behalf of their state in uniform can be prosecuted merely for participating in hostilities — unless accused of war crimes, which is not the case here. Once again, Russia shows it recognizes no international obligations if they conflict with its propaganda or political goals.
The Ukrainian POWs spoke calmly and with dignity in court. They did not defend themselves — they explained. They described their mission, expressed sorrow over lost comrades, and reaffirmed that they were soldiers defending their homeland. The most emotional moment came when Lieutenant Colonel Antonenko, remembering the fallen, quoted a poem by Pavlo Tychyna: “I affirm myself.” When interrupted by the judge, who asked what the poem was about, he answered simply: “About deep love for one's country.” That answer captured the heart of this entire case.
This trial is not an isolated case — it reflects Russia’s broader policy of using captivity as a tool of pressure, humiliation, and propaganda. If the international community fails to respond — legally, diplomatically, and politically — such practices will only intensify. And any soldier captured by an aggressor state could face a courtroom, not a POW camp — a show trial, not protection.
These four men now symbolize not just courage, but also the legal void a soldier may face when an aggressor shatters the very notion of international law. This is not just Ukraine’s concern. It is a warning to the entire world — to all who still believe in laws, in rules, in dignity, even in wartime.