On October 5, 2023, the Russian military struck a cafe in the village of Hroza in the Kharkiv region with an Iskander missile. The café was hosting a memorial dinner, which was attended by many villagers. The strike killed 59 people, including an eight-year-old child.
Photographer Yakiv Lyashenko captured the aftermath of the missile strike on the village of Groza, the burial of the dead, and the grief of those who remained.
On October 5, 2023, at 13:24, the Russian army fired on the village of Groza, Kharkiv region, which is located 35 km from the front line. An Iskander missile hit a cafe where a memorial dinner was being held at the time. The residents of Groza were saying goodbye to their fellow villager Andriy Kozyr. The man mobilized as a volunteer in March 2022 and was killed in the fighting near Popasna less than a month later. At the beginning of the full-scale war, Hroza was occupied by the Russian military and Andrii was buried in the Dnipro region. After Hroza's liberation, his son Denys, who mobilized with his father, decided to rebury him in his native village. Denys Kozyr served until June 2022.
Then he moved to Hroza and married Nina, who worked as a laboratory assistant at the Kharkiv Humanities and Pedagogical Academy. He and his wife decided to organize a reburial and a wake. Almost a third of the village residents - 60 people - came to the cafe. 59 people died, including an eight-year-old boy. A new cemetery has grown in the village, with Andriy Kozyr's grave in the center. Then, on the outskirts, there is a large family: wife, daughter, son, daughter-in-law, uncle, cousins and nephews. They all have the same date of death - October 5, 2023.
A week later, SBU investigators named the alleged gunners of the Russian missiles. They were two former residents of Hroza, Volodymyr Mamon and his younger brother Dmytro. On the eve of the liberation of Kharkiv region, the brothers fled to Russia and asked their fellow villagers and relatives about the location of the Ukrainian Defense Forces and about mass events in Kharkiv region. It is noteworthy that before Groza's release, the Mamona brothers were friends with the Kozyr family. The prosecutor's office launched a pre-trial investigation into the attack, and the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights sent a field team to the village to gather information. Eventually, the Office of the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights confirmed that the Russian army had launched a missile attack on the village of Groza in Kharkiv region on October 5, and that all 59 people killed were civilians.
The aftermath of the missile attack on the village of Groza was captured by Ukrainian photographer Yakiv Lyashenko, who arrived there immediately after the missile hit. “I was a photographer for EPA Images at the time. My editor called me and asked if I was free and had a camera. He said that there was an arrival with a lot of victims and I had to go immediately,” recalls Yakiv Lyashenko. ”I didn't even know the exact address and was driving towards Kupiansk. Then the editor told me the location. At the same time, I was watching the news and learned about the tragedy in Hroz.” Yakiv adds that he was one of the first to get to Groza, as many Ukrainian and foreign journalists arrived there later.
“When I arrived, I was shocked by what I saw. Everything was littered with the bodies of dead people - they were lying on both sides of the fence. Most likely, some of the people had already been pulled out from under the rubble and moved from the cafe,” says Lyashenko. ”When I approached the village, I did not see any bodies, but I could already smell this specific smell. I don't even know how to describe the smell of dead people - the smell of blood, burnt flesh... But when you smell it, you immediately realize that someone has died.” In Hroha, this specific smell was quite noticeable.
Immediately upon arrival, police officers, rescuers, and forensic experts arrived in the village of Hroza to collect bodies or parts of bodies and record people's testimonies. “There were fragments of bodies lying around: an arm, a leg, and a piece of incomprehensible meat. Everything was lying separately. There were some fully surviving bodies, but people were dead,” says the photographer. He recalls that a young woman was walking near the cafe that was destroyed by a rocket and helping the police identify the bodies. “The village is quite small and everyone knows each other. The woman was walking around and saying the names of the dead people. It was difficult to identify some of the bodies - some were burned, others were crushed by a stove,” says Yakiv Lyashenko.
The photographer stayed in the village until dark and went home to give the photos from Groza to a photo agency. Lyashenko traveled there several more times and photographed the preparations for burials and funerals of the dead villagers, and talked to the locals. “If this was my first time filming the dead, it might have been more difficult for me morally. However, this is not the first time I've filmed the aftermath of air strikes. I am used to such shootings. Although I would not like to get used to it at all,” says Yakov Lyashenko.
Yakiv Lyashenko says that all the stories of the residents of Hroza are special. He recalls a woman who did not go to the wake because her brother died that morning and she was busy preparing for the burial. This saved her life. Yakov says that the woman was very depressed and did not want to go anywhere. However, she admitted that if she had been persuaded a little longer, she would have agreed. Another woman who came to the cemetery was unable to swap with anyone at work and stayed at work. This saved her from death or serious injury. Opposite the cafe lives a family whose house was badly damaged by the blast: the roof was mowed down and windows were blown out. However, they all survived and were unharmed.
“There were three brothers there. I even remember their last name - Pirozhok. Accordingly, everyone called them 'pies'. They were from a successful Ukrainian family - they had a farm, a house, etc. On the day of the farewell to Andriy Kozyr, the brothers had some business to attend to, and their parents went to a cafe and died,” says Yakiv Lyashenko. When the brothers learned about the tragedy in Hroha, they immediately came and were shocked by what they saw.
On October 5, 2023, a third of the village died in Hroha. “There were two boys who had lost their parents. They did not want to talk or take pictures,” says Liashenko. Each of the locals has their own grief, because the village is small, everyone knows each other, and everyone has lost a relative, a neighbor, or a close friend. “In this house, the windows no longer burn. And in these ones too. In many houses, the lights are no longer turned on because no one lives there anymore. Whole families died in Hroha,” Yakiv recounts the words of a local boy whose parents died.
A lot of foreign photographers came to Groza to document the aftermath of the arrival. Yakov says that Ukrainian journalists were very reserved. Instead, foreign photographers were shooting everything. “If foreign photographers had the opportunity to climb into the coffin with a camera and take a selfie there, they would have done it. They came to shoot cool shots, and they simply don't care about the feelings of the relatives and friends of the victims,” says Lyashenko.
The photographer came to the village several more times to photograph people choosing a place in the cemetery for their loved ones, filmed burials, and talked to the locals. He also filmed at the Kharkiv morgue, where the bodies of the victims were brought for forensic examination. “We were allowed into the morgue to take pictures. A morgue worker cut off a piece of flesh from the body of a woman for analysis. I understand that this is her usual work. Instead, I had the impression that I was in a butcher's shop, where they cut off a piece for sale. For a person who is shooting in a morgue for the first time, everything looked quite scary,” says Yakiv Lyashenko. The last time the photographer came to Hroza was in winter. He visited a family that lives near the cafe. They had their house repaired, the roof partially replaced, and a new fence built.
Yakiv Lyashenko says he was deeply affected by the cruelty and cynicism of the locals who were pointing missiles at his native village. “Out of curiosity, I went to the page of Denys Kozyr, who organized the reburial of my father. He has a photo on his social media with the man who guided the missile. “They are hugging,” says the photographer. ”That is, the people who launched the missile at the village used to live there and knew all its inhabitants. It's a kind of special cynicism to ask people about mass gatherings, to point missiles at them, knowing that they will all die there. I was very impressed by this.”
Yakiv Lyashenko is a Ukrainian photographer from Kharkiv. He began his professional career in 2012. After the start of the full-scale invasion, he worked as a fixer for well-known photographers and simultaneously documented the events of Russia's invasion of Ukraine. He was a freelance photojournalist for the EPA Agency and AP. He is currently serving in the National Guard.
Social networks:
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We worked on the material:
Researcher of the topic, author of the text: Katya Moskalyuk
Editor-in-Chief: Viacheslav Ratynskyi
Literary editor: Yulia Futey
Website manager: Vladyslav Kukhar
On October 5, 2023, the Russian military struck a cafe in the village of Hroza in the Kharkiv region with an Iskander missile. The café was hosting a memorial dinner, which was attended by many villagers. The strike killed 59 people, including an eight-year-old child.
Photographer Yakiv Lyashenko captured the aftermath of the missile strike on the village of Groza, the burial of the dead, and the grief of those who remained.
On October 5, 2023, at 13:24, the Russian army fired on the village of Groza, Kharkiv region, which is located 35 km from the front line. An Iskander missile hit a cafe where a memorial dinner was being held at the time. The residents of Groza were saying goodbye to their fellow villager Andriy Kozyr. The man mobilized as a volunteer in March 2022 and was killed in the fighting near Popasna less than a month later. At the beginning of the full-scale war, Hroza was occupied by the Russian military and Andrii was buried in the Dnipro region. After Hroza's liberation, his son Denys, who mobilized with his father, decided to rebury him in his native village. Denys Kozyr served until June 2022.
Then he moved to Hroza and married Nina, who worked as a laboratory assistant at the Kharkiv Humanities and Pedagogical Academy. He and his wife decided to organize a reburial and a wake. Almost a third of the village residents - 60 people - came to the cafe. 59 people died, including an eight-year-old boy. A new cemetery has grown in the village, with Andriy Kozyr's grave in the center. Then, on the outskirts, there is a large family: wife, daughter, son, daughter-in-law, uncle, cousins and nephews. They all have the same date of death - October 5, 2023.
A week later, SBU investigators named the alleged gunners of the Russian missiles. They were two former residents of Hroza, Volodymyr Mamon and his younger brother Dmytro. On the eve of the liberation of Kharkiv region, the brothers fled to Russia and asked their fellow villagers and relatives about the location of the Ukrainian Defense Forces and about mass events in Kharkiv region. It is noteworthy that before Groza's release, the Mamona brothers were friends with the Kozyr family. The prosecutor's office launched a pre-trial investigation into the attack, and the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights sent a field team to the village to gather information. Eventually, the Office of the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights confirmed that the Russian army had launched a missile attack on the village of Groza in Kharkiv region on October 5, and that all 59 people killed were civilians.
The aftermath of the missile attack on the village of Groza was captured by Ukrainian photographer Yakiv Lyashenko, who arrived there immediately after the missile hit. “I was a photographer for EPA Images at the time. My editor called me and asked if I was free and had a camera. He said that there was an arrival with a lot of victims and I had to go immediately,” recalls Yakiv Lyashenko. ”I didn't even know the exact address and was driving towards Kupiansk. Then the editor told me the location. At the same time, I was watching the news and learned about the tragedy in Hroz.” Yakiv adds that he was one of the first to get to Groza, as many Ukrainian and foreign journalists arrived there later.
“When I arrived, I was shocked by what I saw. Everything was littered with the bodies of dead people - they were lying on both sides of the fence. Most likely, some of the people had already been pulled out from under the rubble and moved from the cafe,” says Lyashenko. ”When I approached the village, I did not see any bodies, but I could already smell this specific smell. I don't even know how to describe the smell of dead people - the smell of blood, burnt flesh... But when you smell it, you immediately realize that someone has died.” In Hroha, this specific smell was quite noticeable.
Immediately upon arrival, police officers, rescuers, and forensic experts arrived in the village of Hroza to collect bodies or parts of bodies and record people's testimonies. “There were fragments of bodies lying around: an arm, a leg, and a piece of incomprehensible meat. Everything was lying separately. There were some fully surviving bodies, but people were dead,” says the photographer. He recalls that a young woman was walking near the cafe that was destroyed by a rocket and helping the police identify the bodies. “The village is quite small and everyone knows each other. The woman was walking around and saying the names of the dead people. It was difficult to identify some of the bodies - some were burned, others were crushed by a stove,” says Yakiv Lyashenko.
The photographer stayed in the village until dark and went home to give the photos from Groza to a photo agency. Lyashenko traveled there several more times and photographed the preparations for burials and funerals of the dead villagers, and talked to the locals. “If this was my first time filming the dead, it might have been more difficult for me morally. However, this is not the first time I've filmed the aftermath of air strikes. I am used to such shootings. Although I would not like to get used to it at all,” says Yakov Lyashenko.
Yakiv Lyashenko says that all the stories of the residents of Hroza are special. He recalls a woman who did not go to the wake because her brother died that morning and she was busy preparing for the burial. This saved her life. Yakov says that the woman was very depressed and did not want to go anywhere. However, she admitted that if she had been persuaded a little longer, she would have agreed. Another woman who came to the cemetery was unable to swap with anyone at work and stayed at work. This saved her from death or serious injury. Opposite the cafe lives a family whose house was badly damaged by the blast: the roof was mowed down and windows were blown out. However, they all survived and were unharmed.
“There were three brothers there. I even remember their last name - Pirozhok. Accordingly, everyone called them 'pies'. They were from a successful Ukrainian family - they had a farm, a house, etc. On the day of the farewell to Andriy Kozyr, the brothers had some business to attend to, and their parents went to a cafe and died,” says Yakiv Lyashenko. When the brothers learned about the tragedy in Hroha, they immediately came and were shocked by what they saw.
On October 5, 2023, a third of the village died in Hroha. “There were two boys who had lost their parents. They did not want to talk or take pictures,” says Liashenko. Each of the locals has their own grief, because the village is small, everyone knows each other, and everyone has lost a relative, a neighbor, or a close friend. “In this house, the windows no longer burn. And in these ones too. In many houses, the lights are no longer turned on because no one lives there anymore. Whole families died in Hroha,” Yakiv recounts the words of a local boy whose parents died.
A lot of foreign photographers came to Groza to document the aftermath of the arrival. Yakov says that Ukrainian journalists were very reserved. Instead, foreign photographers were shooting everything. “If foreign photographers had the opportunity to climb into the coffin with a camera and take a selfie there, they would have done it. They came to shoot cool shots, and they simply don't care about the feelings of the relatives and friends of the victims,” says Lyashenko.
The photographer came to the village several more times to photograph people choosing a place in the cemetery for their loved ones, filmed burials, and talked to the locals. He also filmed at the Kharkiv morgue, where the bodies of the victims were brought for forensic examination. “We were allowed into the morgue to take pictures. A morgue worker cut off a piece of flesh from the body of a woman for analysis. I understand that this is her usual work. Instead, I had the impression that I was in a butcher's shop, where they cut off a piece for sale. For a person who is shooting in a morgue for the first time, everything looked quite scary,” says Yakiv Lyashenko. The last time the photographer came to Hroza was in winter. He visited a family that lives near the cafe. They had their house repaired, the roof partially replaced, and a new fence built.
Yakiv Lyashenko says he was deeply affected by the cruelty and cynicism of the locals who were pointing missiles at his native village. “Out of curiosity, I went to the page of Denys Kozyr, who organized the reburial of my father. He has a photo on his social media with the man who guided the missile. “They are hugging,” says the photographer. ”That is, the people who launched the missile at the village used to live there and knew all its inhabitants. It's a kind of special cynicism to ask people about mass gatherings, to point missiles at them, knowing that they will all die there. I was very impressed by this.”
Yakiv Lyashenko is a Ukrainian photographer from Kharkiv. He began his professional career in 2012. After the start of the full-scale invasion, he worked as a fixer for well-known photographers and simultaneously documented the events of Russia's invasion of Ukraine. He was a freelance photojournalist for the EPA Agency and AP. He is currently serving in the National Guard.
Social networks:
Facebook
Instagram
We worked on the material:
Researcher of the topic, author of the text: Katya Moskalyuk
Editor-in-Chief: Viacheslav Ratynskyi
Literary editor: Yulia Futey
Website manager: Vladyslav Kukhar
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