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Warfare is a hideous blot on the landscape of Humanity, and what is transpiring in Ukraine, exacts its terrible cost in lifeblood which cannot be staunched. As US President Herbert Hoover so starkly stated: “Older men declare war. But it`s the youth who must fight and die.”
With war, death and depravity perpetually hovers at our door. But the heart and soul, generating spirit for hope, peace and reconciliation live on intact, indelible and indestructible. For such a conflict brings out the worst in some base people, but the very best and the very finest in others.
The story of two men, who have died in the torrent of bloodshed, is a microcosm of the appalling tragedy interwoven into the crimson thread of corrosive autocratic lust for territory and power, irrespective of the suffering inflicted upon ordinary decent people.
Both were husbands and the fathers of young children. Violently torn asunder from the opportunity of a destiny, dappled with happiness and joy. Nothing can ameliorate or replace their loss.
In January a missile attack launched by Russian troops in the central-Eastern Ukrainian city of Dnipro, killed forty five people and nineteen are still missing. The dead included women and children.
Boxing Coach Mykhailo Korovskyi was among the dead, after a residential apartment block was hit. He was Head Coach of Dnipropetrovsk`s Regional Boxing Team. The force of the missile tore away the outer wall of the building where he and his family had lived for nine years. It also pealed away the inner wall of the kitchen, where they had recently celebrated his daughter` fourth birthday, blowing out the candles, for what would be the last time as a family.
To have, to hold, but then to have lost what you cherish the most, is the nadir of tragedy. In a twist of merciful fate his wife and two daughters were not in the apartment when the missile struck.
His Widow Olha clutched a bouquet of yellow roses at his funeral, lovingly and tenderly tracing her hand over his framed photograph. A life has gone. Yet his spirit and the memories are never extinguished and forever remain.
Until we meet again…
Hundreds attended the funeral on an overcast somber day, at which even the priests wept. In a eulogy one of his colleagues Oleh Bilenko said: “Mykhailo tried to pay attention to everyone. To all of his trainees. He trained boxers to high levels, but he never ever forgot about the children.”
One of those young boxers said: “He was always such a positive man. He made lots of jokes. He was so kind and he helped us a lot. We so loved him. He was a Great man.”
In March, twenty two year old Maksym Galinichev was killed during heavy fighting in the village of Chervonopopivka. He had volunteered for the 25th Separate Airborne Sicheslav Brigade. He`d been wounded twice in action and could have opted to be invalided out. But each time, he returned. It cost him his life.
A talented southpaw flyweight, a brilliant future lay ahead, in the coming and beaconing years for this promising handsome young man. He`d fallen head over heels in love with boxing at the age of ten and shown prodigious talent thereafter. He won a gold medal at the 2017 European Championships and Gold again the next year. Also in 2018 he won a silver medal at the Summer Youth Olympics.
Russia invaded Ukraine on February 24th 2022. And instead of taking part in the European Boxing Championships, Maksym joined his country`s Armed forces to defend his homeland. He is survived by his daughter Vasilisa, who recently celebrated her third birthday.
In an interview with the Ukrainian Boxing Federation shortly before the war started Maksym explained he was inspired by the love of his family saying: “I am motivated to provide a future for my children so that my family will be proud of me.”
War cuts down the flower of our youth. The very best of us. What should be the bloom of our brightest future, withers and dies. As poet Laurence Binyon wrote about the carnage of World War One: “They shall grow not old as we that are left grow old. Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. We shall remember them.”
Ironically World War One was called The Great War and euphemistically termed: “The War to end all wars.” Yet…in a new Milenium, we still strive with all our might and devious ingenuity to slaughter each other.
Have we learned nothing?
The condemnation of Philosopher George Santayana rings in our ears, stings our eyes and sears our souls. The residue vapor of bitter cud exhales: “Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”
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