Ukrainian teen recounts torture and indoctrination in Russian camps as global study documents mass child abductions

A Ukrainian teenager's account of abduction by Russian forces in southern Ukraine describes torture, mind-altering drugs and forced allegiance to Moscow, part of a broader campaign to militarize Ukrainian children.

Vladyslav Rudenko, then 16, was awoken one morning in October 2022 when three balaclava-clad soldiers armed with machine guns forced their way into his home in Kherson. He was given 30 minutes to pack and then transported to a camp intended to erase his Ukrainian identity and forge him into a Russian soldier. For nine months, he said, he was kept from his family, subjected to physical abuse and forced to wear a Russian uniform as indoctrination intensified. He recalls being pressured to accept Russian citizenship and a passport, and describes daily routines that began with the Russian national anthem, a flag-raising ceremony and hours of education about life in Russia, followed by propaganda films. Doctors stationed at the camp prescribed as many as eight pills a day to calm him, a regimen he resisted by flushing the pills down the toilet. He was placed in solitary confinement for a week and told not to speak to anyone, with guards monitoring his every move.

Rudenko is one of roughly 20,000 Ukrainian children kidnapped since Russia’s full-scale invasion began, relocated to either Russian-occupied Ukrainian territory or to Russia and its ally Belarus for militarisation and re-education. His early steps after capture took him first to a health spa in Yevpatoria, a seaside city in Crimea repurposed as a training center for Ukrainian minors, before his transfer to a naval military academy in Lazurne, in the Kherson region, where he learned to assemble and disassemble weapons, trained to shoot with precision and took turns guarding checkpoints.

He said Kremlin officials repeatedly pressed him to renounce his Ukrainian identity and accept Russian citizenship, a bid to erase his nationhood. He described life in the program as a relentless, self-reinforcing cycle: waking to the Russian anthem, raising the Russian flag, a schedule of classes about Russia, then films that reinforced propaganda. He recalled being punished for minor acts of resistance, including pulling down a Russian flag to replace it with his underwear, which led to further confinement and isolation. The experience left him with dark thoughts, though he insists he never stopped resisting the indoctrination.

Caring for his mental health became part of the regime’s penalties in detention. Medics at the camps reportedly dosed teenagers with tranquilizers—some children were given as many as eight pills a day—but Vladyslav said he distrusted the guards and flushed the drugs away. He and other youths also faced a suite of punishments, including food deprivation, potential straitjackets, and being ordered to clean the entire site, all while being forbidden to speak Ukrainian or keep contact with family. He was warned not to contact his father, who remained in Ukraine, and was shown a photo of him in military uniform to underscore the consequences of disobedience.

One particular incident involved Vladyslav sharing a room with another boy whose mother had come to take him home. When the boy requested a henna tattoo, guards discovered it during a search for tattoos containing Ukrainian symbols and forced both the boy and his mother to strip down to their underwear and record a video apologising for the tattoo.

Even after Save Ukraine helped extract Vladyslav and 21 other children on a rescue mission, the return home was perilous. Armed FSB agents grilled him, threatening to reveal the location of his father if he spoke about what he had witnessed, and forced him to record a pro-Russian message before he could cross the Belarus border. His mother also faced humiliation, including a lie-detector test and a sting bag placed over her head when she came to recover him. Now 18 and safe in Ukraine, Vladyslav remains dedicated to sport and plans to study abroad, launch a sportswear line and open a boxing arena to help others stand up for themselves.

Kseniia Koldin, then 21, is another Ukrainian who saw her life upended by Moscow’s indoctrination drive. She and her brother Serhii, then 11, were living in Vovchansk, in northeastern Ukraine, when the city fell under occupation. Their foster family sent the siblings to Russia, where Serhii was placed in the Medvezhonok children’s camp in Krasnodar Krai and Kseniia enrolled in a state-run trade school in Shebekino, Belgorod region. The siblings were separated by more than 1,500 kilometers for nine months as they endured the Kremlin’s attempt to Americanize Ukrainian children.

Kseniia said the experience at the college was dominated by Russian propaganda. Students were forced to sing the Russian anthem, and teachers pressed them to learn it by heart. They were made to participate in ceremonies featuring a large Russian flag, and the curriculum was saturated with propaganda suggesting that Russia’s actions were just and that Ukraine was to blame. After three months, Kseniia was expelled from the dormitory for refusing to accept a Russian passport. Teachers pressured her by offering social benefits and housing in Russia as incentives to stay, she said, while reminding her that she was an orphan with a bright future in Russia.

When Ukrainian forces liberated Vovchansk, Kseniia returned home with the help of Save Ukraine and resolved to help her brother escape a similar fate. Serhii’s allegiance to Russia began to shift as he witnessed the propaganda’s effects, and Kseniia eventually persuaded him to leave Russia for a month with the prospect of returning if he did not like it. The siblings reunited in May 2023 and now live in Kyiv, where Serhii is in school and Kseniia is pursuing journalism studies while working with Save Ukraine. Kseniia has since written a book about the stories of thousands of other Ukrainian hostages and continues to advocate for their safe return.

Russia’s strategy in the occupied territories, Kseniia says, includes mass drills for teenagers as young as 14 and 15 to teach weapons handling, drones and tank operation, with girls steered toward staying in Russia to bear children. Save Ukraine and partners have helped bring back 846 children from Russia and occupied Ukrainian areas, a figure officials say is part of a broader total of about 1,600 children who have returned home. Yale University’s Humanitarian Research Lab has documented thousands of cases—at least 210 sites—where Ukrainian children were relocated for military training, drone production and other forms of forced re-education. In its own assessment, Ukraine’s presidency noted that the war cannot truly be considered over without the return of abducted children.

A joint report by War Child UK, Save Ukraine and the Human Security Centre documented 200 verified cases and found that roughly 55 percent of kidnapped children were subjected to pro-Russian propaganda or bans on Ukrainian language, and about 41 percent were forced into weapons training or paramilitary youth groups. The report described the Kremlin operation as the largest organized campaign of child rights violations in Europe since the Yugoslav wars and highlighted the lasting trauma for the children involved. One 16-year-old girl told researchers that every day felt like she was being shaped into something she wasn’t, adding that they were being turned into soldiers.

In September, the United Kingdom announced new sanctions targeting Russian officials and youth groups that support the deportation and indoctrination of Ukraine’s children and erase their cultural heritage. Defence intelligence agencies have described Russia’s long-running Russification policy in illegally occupied Ukrainian territories, arguing that it seeks to erase Ukrainian identity and statehood. Deputy Prime Minister David Lammy condemned the policy as despicable and said that no child should be a pawn of war, calling for accountability for those responsible.

The broader timeline and the ongoing reporting underscore a longstanding concern: the Kremlin’s efforts to erode Ukrainian language, culture and identity in occupied regions remain a central element of Moscow’s strategy in the war. Activists in the United Kingdom say the plight of abducted Ukrainian children continues to mobilize international attention; a march in London in June 2025 drew participants demanding accountability and the safe return of all kidnapped children.