The mourners prayed and sang during Artemiy Dymyd’s funeral in Lychakiv Cemetery in Lviv, Ukraine, on Tuesday. Mr. Dymyd was killed in battle while serving in a special operations unit of the Ukrainian Navy. Credit … Emile Ducke for The New York TimesMr. Dymyd’s coffin was carried from the church of St. Peter and Paul’s garrison through the streets of Lviv’s Main Market Square and then to the cemetery. These funeral processions have become a common place in the city of Western Ukraine. Credit … Emile Ducke for The New York TimesMr. Dymyd’s funeral was one of four military funerals in Lviv on Tuesday. Three of the four buried soldiers did not live to the age of 30, including Mr. Dymyd, 27. Credit … Emile Ducke for The New York Times
LVIV, Ukraine – Artemiy Dymyd’s closest friends unwrapped his parachute and spread it gently over his grave. The red, silky material wrapped around his coffin as he lowered it.
The men, many soldiers themselves, covered the newly dug hole with earth. The first shovels landed with one blow.
The funeral of Mr Dymyd, a Marine killed in action, was the first funeral of the day in Lviv, a western Ukrainian city where residents have seen it as a relentless stream of their children killed in the war with Russia. By the end of Tuesday, three more graves had just been dug near Mr. Dymyd would also be filled with young soldiers who had died in battle for the east of the country, hundreds of miles away.
The funeral had begun in a Greek Catholic church, an eastern branch of Catholicism widespread in Lviv. Mr. Dymyd’s father, a priest, praised him. And then his mother, in a thick voice of emotion, sang a final lullaby for her son.
The procession then made its way from the church to the main market square of the city, where dozens of young people in scout uniforms formed an honor guard. Mr. Dymyd, 27, had been a member of the Ukrainian Scout Organization since he was 7 years old. The young children, teenagers and adults in the group were there to say goodbye.
At the back of the square, four white banners announced details of the military funeral to be held in the city on Tuesday, all of them for men killed in the battle for the east of the country in recent weeks. Three of them never reached the age of 30.
Passengers on a tram in central Lviv, Ukraine, watched in silence as Artemiy Dymyd’s funeral procession made its way to Lychakiv Cemetery. Credit … Emile Ducke for The New York Times
A young woman, wearing the characteristic green handkerchief of the scouts, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and clenched her fists to keep the tears at bay as she joined the slow procession by Mr. Dymyd.
Scouting was just one part of his life. To Mr. Dymyd also enjoyed traveling and adventure, and extreme sports such as parachuting. His nickname was Kurka, which means chicken. Friends said Metallica’s music would have been more appropriate for her funeral than the military songs now played daily in Lviv’s Lychakiv cemetery.
“He’s one of the most decent men I’ve ever met,” said Dmytro Paschuk, 26. “In his 27 years he lived many lives. People write books about characters like him, and maybe there will be books soon.”
Mr. Paschuk, who ran a wine bar before the war, served alongside Mr. Dymyd in a special operations unit of the Ukrainian Marines. They had become brothers in recent months, he said.
The night of the attack that ended his friend’s life, Mr. Paschuk, woke up to the sound of an explosion and soon learned that something was wrong. He immediately looked for Mr. Dymyd and saw that another friend was giving him first aid. When he saw Mr. Dymyd’s eyes, he knew it was bad.
“I was afraid to be by his side,” he said slowly. “Because when I saw him I felt like I wouldn’t make it.”
Mr. Dymyd died shortly afterwards.
Mr. Paschuk said he had mixed feelings about returning to the front line in a few days. He described waves of emotions, but said he was not angry or avenged.
“I don’t feel like I want to kill everyone because that happened,” Mr. Paschuk. “Thanks to Kurka. He taught me to stay calm.”
Roman Lozynskyi, a fellow Marine, had been a friend of Mr. Dymyd for two decades, having met him when they were young explorers. Mr. Lozynskyi, who is a member of the Ukrainian Parliament, volunteered for the army three months ago and served in the same unit as Mr. Dymyd and Mr. Paschuk.
He described his lifelong friend as a “crazy man” with a desire to live who had returned to Ukraine from a parachute trip to Brazil to enlist when the war began. Mr Dymyd wanted to continue parachuting during the war and finally got a chance last month as part of a mission, his friends said.
He was the brother of Mr. Dymyd, Dmytro Dymyd, who thought of placing the parachute in his grave, said Mr. Lozynskyi, in a nod to the passion of Mr. Dymyd for the sport of parachuting. The brother, who is also a soldier, received permission to attend the funeral, but would return to the Donetsk region in a few days.
As the wicked slowly exited the cemetery, the scavengers smashed the earth over Mr. Dymyd’s grave to a sturdy mound.
There were still three more.
Young men and women wearing scout uniforms mourned Mr. Dymyd, who had been a member of the Ukrainian Scout Organization for 7 years. Credit … Emile Ducke for The New York Times