Viktor Petrov “The Stork”: A flight cut short

"When my son left for military training, he was asked to choose a call sign. He replied ‘Alpha,’ without even taking his eyes off his book. There was already a soldier with that call sign, though, so Viktor chose ‘Stork’ to comfort me. Storks, as he used to say, always come home," Irena Petrova recalled about her son Viktor, and these words hurt us both.

"Storks Always Come Home" is also the title of a documentary by journalist and filmmaker Gala Kozyutynska dedicated to Viktor’s memory. If you visit Gala’s YouTube channel and watch her and Viktor’s vlogs, you will see a stork there, too. It is a stork’s nest against the backdrop of the high sky and meadows in Viktor’s beloved Carpathian Mountains. The nest is perched on a pole near the old house that Gala and Viktor bought to set up a creative residence for young artists from all over Ukraine. In the vlogs, Viktor smiles, makes plans, and ponders over how to make that meticulously chosen place comfortable to live in without sacrificing its authenticity. Preserving the open verdant space and communalizing both the surrounding nature and the feeling of home was essential. It was the feeling of domesticity in the best sense, which could actually give the strength to create, especially when it comes to those whose homes had been destroyed by Russia and who lost their basic sense of security.

Home was central to Viktor Petrov's ethos: a sanctuary of growth, acceptance, support, and unwavering love. It was a place he endeavored to cultivate each day, whether it was among a community of like-minded individuals, in his cherished residential neighborhood of Sykhiv, in the city of Lviv, or throughout Ukraine. During his time as the first editor of the online publication Sykhiv Media, Viktor launched a competition of old photos of the Sykhiv district, planned media trainings for schoolchildren and programs about homeowners’ associations, and organized book collection campaigns for the district’s libraries. He remained friendly and sharp-witted, even when dealing with a rather difficult and apathetic public. As an activist and a man of action, he collaborated with the charity foundation "Z Yanholom Na Plechi" (Eng.: "With an Angel on the Shoulder") and personally donated blood to children with cancer, helping to prolong the lives of 22 young patients. No matter what projects he undertook or what challenges he faced, he somehow created a space around him that could be characterized as "homelike." This is the trait that his friends and family most often mention about him.

"We named Viktor after my father. He was from the village of Turove, located near Kozacha Lopana in Kharkiv region. My father loved Ukraine, no matter where in the country his military service took him. He flew fighter jets for 27 years and achieved the rank of colonel. He passed away suddenly at the age of 47. He was a sincere person who, like Viktor, was loved and respected by everyone. I always wanted to marry a pilot, and my husband flew helicopters until he was transferred to the reserves in 1996. We used to live in a building on Vernadsky Street, where apartments were primarily given to people connected with aviation. The children there were very friendly with each other, and they even had a group called ‘The Courtyard on Vernadsky Street,’ and maintained their friendships throughout their lives."

In a sense, Viktor was also a bit of a "flighty" person by nature. From a young age, he took an interest in everything possible. He tried his hand at various sports clubs and bike riding, mastered skiing and snowboarding, played the guitar and ukulele, and engaged in rock climbing and dancing, aikido, and jiu-jitsu. And all this was in Sykhiv. (On December 29, 2023, the premises of the local sports club to which Viktor belonged was damaged by the debris of a Russian missile after it was shot down by Ukrainian air defense). He traveled to England to fully master the English language, then went to the United States under the Work&Travel program. He often collaborated with European volunteers, attended various events in Malta, Lithuania, Germany, Switzerland, and elsewhere. He could have settled anywhere because he had friends everywhere, but he couldn’t imagine himself living outside of Ukraine. Viktor always kept in touch with his family.

"He was not only a caring son to us. We knew how to be friends with him. He infused our lives with energy and taught us more than we taught him," Viktor’s mother said.

For quite a long time he was passionate about videography. Teaming up with the aforementioned Gala Kozyutynska, they co-founded the WHAT IF creative, where they made documentaries, videos, commercials, and music videos. One of their most notable projects was the documentary Codekeepers, which reimagines the architectural style of Hutsul Secession and honors the legacy of architect, entrepreneur, and educator Ivan Levynskyi.

With the onset of the full-scale invasion, Viktor immediately went to the military enlistment office. Despite having previously completed military training, he was told to await a call. In the meantime, Gala and Viktor established a shelter for displaced people, and later transformed the studio into the WHAT IF creative school. This initiative provided more than 13 different courses for more than 100 students tuition-free. In October 2022, Viktor received a call from the military enlistment office, and finally, just before the New Year, he was sent for training.

Irena recalled: "My son always strived to be as efficient as possible in what he did. He never expected anyone to do what he could himself. Before his training, he took up courses in tactical medicine and aerial reconnaissance. He immediately bonded with his fellow recruits... At the time, Viktor hadn’t eaten meat for five years, because he was very compassionate and respected all living things, so we initially brought him vegetarian meals. Later, the recruits were given weekends off. Viktor, being the only Lviv local, showed everyone around the city—he was a leader by nature with undeniable charisma. By March 10, they were already given their deployment orders. The next day, he headed off to Siversk. We kept in touch with him there, it was very important to me, and we corresponded daily in Signal. I sent him an amulet, a small stork I had bought in Strasbourg. Then there was Druzhkivka, and again he underwent training. It turned out that he had to perform the duties of a platoon commander, because theirs had been demobilized. I was very worried. Later, one of Viktor’s brothers-in-arms told me that my son didn’t seem to be a career soldier, but he did everything properly and competently. And Viktor himself told me: "Mom, the guys love me so much, they respect me, I’m in the right place now. We’ll manage, I’ll be fine. In a way, managing my military service is my most difficult project. It seems that life was preparing me for something like this."

Viktor’s next assignment, as a platoon commander, was to take part in the combat operations in Bakhmut. He told his mother about it, because that was their agreement, although the very mention of the word "Bakhmut" made Irena’s heart sink due to the heavy fighting going on there. One day, he called her via video to say that everything was fine, that they were living there almost in luxury. He was, of course, the last to leave the position. His old friend—whom Viktor had planned to take to his unit—came to visit him, and the guys even went to the sauna in the evening. The next day, Viktor and three other soldiers went to pick up the body of their fallen brother-in-arms. He did not have to, but he could not do otherwise.

There were drones. Then a Russian mine delivered a direct strike to the car…

Dnipro. Identification. The grave on the Field of Mars. And a silver stork on a cross. Because storks always come home, even if they are on a shield.