Ukrainian War Veterans Transform Ancient Epic Into Powerful Modern Theater

War-wounded Ukrainian veterans have created a theatrical adaptation of an 18th-century epic poem, using their own experiences to tell stories of resilience and recovery. The production features soldiers who lost limbs, vision, and endured severe injuries, performing alongside drama students in Kyiv. During opening night, a power outage couldn't stop the performance as actors continued by flashlight to a standing ovation.

KYIV, Ukraine — In a rehearsal room one day before their debut performance, Ukrainian military veterans joined drama students in a circle, practicing lines from a script with centuries of history behind it.

Director Olha Semioshkina guided the group through her version of “Eneida” by Ivan Kotliarevskyi — an 18th-century Ukrainian retelling of Virgil’s ancient “Aeneid.” However, this theatrical work carries a contemporary message about perseverance amid the ongoing conflict approaching its fourth year since Russia launched its full-scale assault on Ukraine.

The cast members, ranging from their twenties to sixties, included Ukrainian military veterans who had come back from combat zones with missing limbs, serious burn injuries, and vision loss. Others had experienced the war from civilian perspectives. Most had no previous acting experience before joining this production.

The show was developed by Theater of Veterans, a group established by Ukraine’s Territorial Defense Forces members that offers acting instruction and performance opportunities to help former military personnel with their transition back to civilian life and healing process.

Preparation for Thursday’s opening night at Kyiv’s National Academic Molodyy Theatre required over a year of work.

“We understood these individuals had recently returned from medical treatment, so we needed to begin at square one,” Semioshkina explained.

“We dedicated approximately four months just learning basic communication, how to fall safely, form groups, roll, and work together,” she continued. “After that, we focused on physical development, removing prosthetic devices and learning to function without them.”

The 51-year-old director’s vision was straightforward: “Every male performer represents Aeneas. Every female performer embodies Dido.”

In Virgil’s ancient tale, Aeneas roams following Troy’s destruction, seeking a new home. Kotliarevskyi’s comedic version transforms the Trojan warrior into a Cossack character, rough and down-to-earth.

On this Kyiv stage, Aeneas displays artificial limbs and battle wounds from the conflict that started with Russia’s February 24, 2022, attack on Ukraine.

“Aeneas represents a warrior who endures tremendous hardship while seeking his homeland,” Semioshkina noted. “He maintains his sense of humor and passion, experiences setbacks and terrors, celebrates and mourns. But he remains human with a mission — to discover his place and protect his loved ones.”

She connects the combat veterans who survived warfare with the role they portray. “Aeneas is someone who went to battle. True, he came back damaged and wounded,” she said, but the performers bringing this version to life “are discovering how to live” once more.

During practice, Yehor Babenko, a Ukraine Border Service veteran who sustained serious burns early in Russia’s invasion, spoke a line with a smile: “Feeling burned out at work? We have a lot in common.”

Later in the performance, his solo speech struck a personal note as he discussed fire destroying his hands, ears and nose. “I won’t be able to show children a trick with a missing finger,” he says. “Maybe the one when all 10 fingers disappear.”

The chance to act on stage, Babenko explained, has provided therapeutic benefits.

“For me, theater serves as both mental and physical therapy. I’ve observed that I’m more aware of my body, feel more comfortable around people, and communicate my ideas more clearly.”

For Babenko, Aeneas’s journey connects with current reality. “It’s about finding your homeland,” he said. “And for our nation, that’s extremely meaningful right now.”

The performance’s closing section moved away from classical poetry entirely as the performers came forward to share their personal experiences — discussing combat wounds, fallen comrades, forced relocation, and existence under enemy control.

One veteran described losing his leg in a drone attack and using a machine gun as support to reach safety. A female performer told of surviving Russian occupation with her two daughters.

Another participant, who served as a volunteer medic starting in 2014 when Russia illegally seized Crimea and pro-Russian fighters took control of parts of Ukraine’s Donetsk and Luhansk areas, and again following the 2022 Russian invasion, discussed returning to war in her sixties.

Andrii Onopriienko, who became blind from a Russian artillery attack near Avdiivka in the Donetsk area in 2023, provided narration throughout much of the show with his powerful, rich voice. During one moment he performed: “Let our enemies dig up holes, install crosses, and lie down on their own,” while other cast members sang along.

Onopriienko originally declined to participate in the project. “I couldn’t comprehend what I would contribute on stage without sight,” he said. He was eventually convinced that a meaningful role existed for him.

“It brings positivity, joy, and encouragement,” he said about rehearsals. “Regardless of your mood when you arrive, you depart with a broad grin. Here you escape from current reality. You step into a different realm.”

During the performance, artificial legs and arms were taken off and reattached as elements of the production’s visual storytelling. Extended metal poles served multiple purposes as weapons, rowing oars, and walking aids — functioning both as artistic props and practical support tools for performers with amputations.

The ongoing conflict interrupted even before Thursday’s curtain call. An announcement requested the audience follow standard theater etiquette and turn off their phones — then cautioned that during air raid warnings, they should proceed to the basement shelter. If electrical power failed, it noted, the performance would halt while backup generators activated.

As Babenko presented his monologue moments before the show concluded, the electricity indeed failed.

Semioshkina walked onto the stage carrying a flashlight, with others following with their own lights. Babenko continued his lines illuminated by the makeshift spotlight. The audience, some quietly crying, others laughing through tears, remained seated.

When the final speech ended and the curtain dropped and lifted again, the performers received a standing ovation. As they took a second bow, power returned, and the applause grew louder.

For Semioshkina, the significance of veterans performing extends beyond classical literature and theater boundaries.

“I want to communicate to all veterans who are staying home: Come out,” she said. “Come out. You have capabilities. Live. Don’t isolate yourself. Live every single moment.”