Silence after the volley, the story of Yevhen Pereginyak
The story of Yevhen Pereginyak is not about loud victories, but about human resilience. About how an ordinary employee of the Omega company // took up arms twice when the country needed help.
Yevhen went to war for the first time back in 2014, when many were just trying to understand what was happening. He spent a year in the ATO zone, after which he returned to civilian life. But the peace did not last long. When in 2022 Russia began a full-scale invasion, he volunteered again. Without hesitation, without pathos. Simply because he could not do otherwise.
He became a machine gunner. People who have never held a machine gun in their hands have no idea what it is like to drag 15 kilograms of metal, plus armor, plus ammunition, behind their shoulders. And to do it every day, when it is cold, raining, when the ground sinks underfoot, and explosions are heard nearby.
Yevgen's unit held the defense — Kharkiv, Sumy, and Kyiv. Roads, dugouts, concrete walls, and the smell of diesel.
When asked what helped him not to break down, Yevgen answers briefly: comrades and thoughts of his family. Supporting each other at the front is not just friendship, but a way to survive. Communication with his family was sometimes a luxury: near Kyiv, he contacted more often, and closer to Kharkiv or Sumy, only a few times a month. “It happened that the phones were taken away so that they wouldn’t “detect” the place. Then they were returned — because you can’t do without communication,” he recalls. Then, Yevgen says, he began to truly appreciate simple things — the voice of a loved one, a short message, ordinary silence.
In 2023, Yevgen was discharged from the service for family reasons.
He doesn’t call it a “return to normal life” — because normal life is different.
After the front, even ordinary things are perceived differently: the noise of the city seems too loud, the faces of passers-by too calm. But work, a familiar team, the support of friends and the boss helped to maintain balance.
Colleagues met him not as a hero, but as one of their own — just Yevhen, who had returned. And this is probably the best thing that can be given to a person after the war — not excessive attention, but ordinariness.
“The main thing is not to lose heart,” he says briefly. And this does not sound like a slogan, but as a rule, tested by experience.
Many comrades died. And even now, when he returned to work, news of losses sometimes comes suddenly. “It was like news of losses came one after another,” he says quietly.
After the service, Yevhen went to the Carpathians — for a state rehabilitation program for veterans.
“Such trips give strength. There are state permits for combatants, but unfortunately, many people don’t know about it. And they really help to recover,” says Yevhen.
Yevhen doesn’t talk about dreams out loud. He simply adds:
“I want it all to end. So that everyone who is there now returns alive.”
His words are not just wishes. This is a formula for inner peace that he took from the war.