"I'm not a grandmother; I'm a soldier." A 72-year-old Azov fighter shares her experiences of service, captivity, and her role at a stabilization point.
3Tatyana is 72 years old and serves as a soldier in the “Azov” brigade. She firmly believes that age restrictions are a bureaucratic invention, and that giving up on desires in old age is a trait of dull individuals.
“You shouldn't age yourself,” she says.
We discuss her service, the benefits of older individuals in the military, and the philosophy of life that helped her endure captivity and connect with her younger comrades. We talk about the freedom of choice and how a person's life will be shaped by their own actions.
Military — a unique community
The current war is not Tatyana’s first. Life crises have always pushed her to challenge herself. In 1980, she left for war-torn Afghanistan.
At that time, she didn’t question what Soviet tanks were doing in a foreign land. Tatyana had just divorced her first husband, and while working as a surgical nurse, she was required to clean up after major renovations at the maternity ward. She felt a sense of longing and self-doubt.
“I wanted to find out what I was capable of. I hoped there would be new challenges in the army,” Tatyana recalls today.
She went to work as a civilian nurse with the rear services of the Soviet troops in Afghanistan. She did not directly participate in combat but provided medical assistance to the wounded before they were sent to the hospital.
In Afghanistan, significant events occurred in her life. She remarried there to a man who has allowed her to be herself for almost 45 years. It was there that she realized for life that the military community is special. “In war, the guys don’t have empty, indifferent eyes,” Tatyana explains. It was there that she first felt that her heart belonged to this community.
“I became pregnant and was supposed to return from Afghanistan in 1981. But I constantly missed the spirit of army brotherhood that I felt among the soldiers,” the woman shares.
After Afghanistan, her peaceful life stretched over many decades. Working as a surgical nurse, hiking in the mountains, rafting on rivers, long treks, swimming — Tatyana sought challenges in her everyday life as a wife and mother.
4From Maidan to the "Azov" fighters
After receiving her pension, the woman didn’t think about resting on a bench with her neighbors. She continued working at the maternity ward — a job that suited an active person well: she would work a 24-hour shift and then have several days to take care of her own affairs. Since December 2013, after her shifts, Tatyana began to go to Maidan — at nearly 62 years old, she helped in the medical tent organized by the activists in the October Palace. The sick and wounded participants of the Revolution of Dignity — people with compassionate eyes — quickly became familiar and dear to Tatyana. Bandaging, administering IVs, providing medications… She even managed to travel back home to Vasylkiv to cook, supporting her son and husband who were helping to build barricades.
When the participants of Maidan began signing up for volunteer units to defend the Donetsk region, the woman felt heavy-hearted. She wanted to join them, to be with them. But she remembered well one of the OMON raids on Maidan, when she could only reach the barricade with the help of her comrades. Thus, she didn’t believe in her own mobility and didn’t dare to ask to join any unit.
5“When ATO started, I was consumed by all the events — Ilovaisk, Mariupol, Debaltseve. I fell in love with Mariupol; I didn’t miss a single report about the city. Mariupol managed to hold its ground, it rapidly became more Ukrainian — I wanted to be part of its life. I even considered moving to Mariupol. But I worried that it would be difficult for a pensioner to find a job in a frontline city.”
“I was gnawing at myself until 2015. Then my godson, who served in 'Azov', called and asked if I would agree to work in their medical tent. I told him I had been dreaming of such an offer for a year. I took leave from the maternity ward and went to the guys. It was March 2015. I left and stayed with them in Mariupol. I resigned from the hospital over the phone,” Tatyana recalls with a smile.
6The family stands on freedom
The woman, at 63, travels hundreds of kilometers from home to a military unit to “check it out” — and stays there. But what about the man? The son? How did they react?
“They lived their lives. My husband is a mechanic; he just likes to tinker with machines. He was also a mechanic in Afghanistan at our workshops. My son is a dental technician. I informed my husband by phone and felt that he wasn't pleased with the situation. But in our family, the rule is to always respect each other's decisions and not interfere with one another. Because the family is built on the freedom of each,” Tatyana explains.
For seven years before the full-scale war began, she would come home on vacation — rafting with her son, hiking, working in the garden. Her husband did not visit her in Mariupol.
“I always thought: if my husband meets someone, I would only be happy that he is arranging his life. You can't force someone to love you by keeping them close. But I never tried to hold him back, and he never sought to leave. Maybe because we learned to accept each other as we are and not to try to change each other,” the woman shares intimately.
By the way, Tatyana's son now also serves in "Azov". Her husband went to the military enlistment office after the start of the full-scale war, but according to his wife, they told him to “leave.” A wife in her 70s is in the army, but a man in his 60s is not. And Tatyana Teplyuk takes this completely calmly.
7War, captivity — part of military life
Tatyana has been managing the "Azov" medical unit in Mariupol since 2015 as a civilian, although she wore a uniform and adhered to military protocols.
When the full-scale war began, 70-year-old Tatyana Teplyuk didn’t even think about leaving "Azov".
“I didn’t get in the way of the evacuation groups — I understood that youth, speed, and strength were what mattered. But I felt my need from the very first days — I provided assistance to those who could be treated without being sent to the hospital. If I had left 'Azov' at that time, there would have been no one to do this work in our garrison. I don’t remember what my son and husband said back then. Communication was quickly lost. And when it was restored, I told them that everything was fine,” Tatyana recalls.
According to her, when the Russian ring around Mariupol began to tighten, she felt a psychological superiority over the young “Azov” fighters.
“I thought, if the Russians shoot me — well, they shoot me. I’m 70. Death at this age is already almost natural. But for the young, death is not natural. Therefore, people my age perceive the possibility of death more calmly than the young. Although dying is frightening and undesirable at any age. I had young ones back then who insisted, 'This is the end, we are doomed.' And I kept myself busy with work and didn’t allow any negative emotions to creep in,” Tatyana says.
Then there was a month surrounded by "Azovstal" — working in the medical unit and the kitchen, realizing that now one could only hope for a miracle. Tatyana found an effective way to protect her psyche: to work so intensely that by evening she would fall asleep from exhaustion and think of nothing.
She approached "Azovstal" as a soldier — in March 2022, the commander simply stated that she was now mobilized. Thus, on May 17, soldier Tatyana Teplyuk was taken captive from "Azovstal".
When asked by Russians why she, such an old woman, ended up in "Azov", she figured out how to play the “fool” and not discuss patriotism with the enemy. Saying that her pension “in civilian life” was small, she could barely make ends meet, and she ended up at "Azovstal" because she didn’t manage to leave the city. She just babbled something to get them off her back.
Strangely enough, captivity was easier for Tatyana than