Ukraine's frontline newlyweds have 'no time' to wait for peace

Gathered in a wedding hall in the Ukrainian city of Sloviansk, near the front line, Anna and Pavlo Chornobai exchanged rings to the applause of a dozen of the groom's fellow soldiers.

The bride insisted on a white dress for the civil ceremony. But on everything else, including the prospect of celebrating with friends and family, the conflict with Russian forced her to make compromises.

"When I was a girl there were horses and a puffy dress in my plans, so it's a bit different, but I don't regret it at all," said the 22-year-old with a cherub tattoo on her collarbone. 

The conflict has given a sense of urgency to many military couples in Ukraine. Many see no point in waiting for a peace that can seem little more than a mirage. 

Talk of ceasefires and an end to the three-year war have gripped Western capitals, with U.S. President Donald Trump pushing for a quick end to the fighting. But that all feels far from the reality in Sloviansk, around 20 kilometers from the front lines.

With each air raid alert that rang out, the civil registry office's administrator ordered most visitors out of the building.

They waited in front of a beige block initially built to be a cinema, topped with a rusty steel sign reading "Mria" - meaning 'dream' in Ukrainian.

'At war, you become more decisive' 

Pavlo's comrades, with whom he served in the Azov brigade, were allowed in through the main entrance of the building, an exception. 

"It's a pity that not all brothers-in-arms lived to see this. There are a lot of deaths," Pavlo said.

The 19-year-old said he had no doubts about his surprise proposal to Anna on December 31, 2024, despite having only met two months earlier when she served him coffee at a popular pastry chain.

"When you live at war you become more decisive, more confident in your actions. War has quite influenced life, it changed it radically," he said.

Ivan Salko said a grueling experience on the front had pushed him to propose to his girlfriend, Tetyana. He spent four months defending a tough position in the eastern hotspot of Toretsk with no phone service or way of communicating with her.

"I was constantly thinking 'I need to get out – and when I do, I need to accomplish something,'" he said.

He proposed on a video-call from hospital while recovering from several wounds and a concussion. Tetyana almost broke down when she saw him on the screen.

"I understood it was difficult for him so I kept it together. I looked into his happy eyes, I was happy to see him. And then he proposed," she said.

But the prospect of another lengthy separation hung over their wedding in Sloviansk.

Ivan was due to go back to the front the following day – this was their last opportunity to tie the knot, or otherwise be forced to wait for his next leave.

'Don't postpone love for later'

In the face of the conflict with Russia, Ukraine has introduced a video-link portal for couples to get married remotely, without needing to travel across the conflict-torn country to meet.

Marriage offers some reassurance to military families, as spouses receive social support and are guaranteed a call if the partner is killed or wounded.

But there is a months-long waiting list, said Lilya Lyashenko, who travelled to Sloviansk to marry Viktor Kravchuk.

"We would like it to be different. To go home, to reality. To celebrate and get married according to traditions. But there's no time," said Kravchuk.

Anna and Pavlo Chornobai managed to sneak in a few rituals to their hasty marriage ceremony. After the wedding officiant pronounced them husband and wife, Anna threw her bouquet to Pavlo's fellow servicemen.

The flowers flew up toward the ceiling and then crashed on the floor, much to the group's amusement. A heavily-bearded soldier rushed to scoop them up, smiled, and bowed.

"Don't postpone love for later, that's probably the most important thing," Anna said. "Don't wait for the right moment."