In August 2023, a plane carrying the Wagner PMC leadership crashed. One of the spontaneous memorials to Yevgeny Prigozhin was the Circus in Rostov-on-Don, at the gate of which once there was a tank. At that time, citizens greeted the rebels as heroes. We tell you how their mood has changed over the year.
The plane carrying the Wagner PMC leaders was shot down exactly two months after the ‘March of Justice’ — Prigozhin’s military campaign towards Moscow. Citizens of Rostov-on-Don set up a memorial at the facade of the city circus with photographs of Prigozhin and his comrade Utkin. Hundreds of people brought flowers, candles, patches and flags with the Wagner symbols. Mourning events are planned for the anniversary of Prigozhin’s death as well. A Poligon correspondent spoke with citizens, eyewitnesses, and participants of the rebellion.
Memorial at the circus. ‘Still just bringing flowers?’
Spontaneous memorials after Prigozhin’s death appeared all over the country. The Rostov-on-Don memorial appeared at the site of the legendary tank by the circus gates, which became an allegory for the political situation in Russia. The gates still bear the inscription in black marker: ‘Prigozhin is a hero!’
A year ago, the administrator of the Wagner Telegram channel ‘GreyZone’ captioned photos of the memorial at the circus as follows: ‘The southern city of our motherland, whose residents managed to feel free for just one day a couple of months ago. Thanks to the warm welcome given by the Rostovites to the ‘musicians,’ Russians watching from afar now have a glimmer of hope.’
The post attracted many mocking comments: ‘Free from what? Hope for what?’, and ‘Still just bringing flowers?’
The memorial was removed several times by the circus staff, but it reappeared. The last bouquet, accompanied by two portraits, was pushed to the very edge of the facade by posters and remained until October. Every day, the big guy in uniform and the young boy holding a flag stood guard at the memorial, often confronted by a military police patrol. The military’s discontent is understandable — right under their windows is a memorial to their ‘invaders’, where passers-by constantly stop, and some still bring carnations. The Wagner PMC fighters asked for the respect and wait 40 days after the plane crash. On the evening of October 1, the memorial was again covered with flowers, but a day later the ledge of the façade was empty.
In July 2024, the admin of the ‘GreyZone’ channel, Nikita Fedyanin, agreed to give comments on how the fighters remember that day and what is happening with the PMC now. ‘Hey. Just speaking for myself and those I know — I’m not authorized to speak for the whole Company,’ — he answered me and went on a business trip to Mali. Nikita traveled to various PMC operation sites, gathering material for the channel. Two weeks later, the Malian armed forces and the Wagner Group fighters accompanying them were ambushed by Tuaregs. Among those killed was Nikita Fedyanin.
Rebel Day. ‘Always knew the Rostov guys had balls of steel’
The bartender of a place not far from the epicenter of events — one of the favorite places of the Rostov ‘Wagners’ — recalls the evening before the mutiny. ‘It was Friday, the place was packed. Then little by little, people started heading out. One of our regulars walked in — we knew he was with Wagner. He leaned in and whispered something to my coworker, and the guy stepped out for a smoke. The bro ordered his usual — a glass of whiskey — and said he was out with his wife and the dog, but couldn’t just walk past. Downed the drink and left. Then my coworker came back, he told me: ‘Dude, check the news.’ At this time, the first reports appeared on the Internet that Prigozhin’s PMC had left for Moscow.
The next morning, a column of military equipment from the Wagner Group enters Rostov. ‘Morning, guys!’ the Wagnerites greeted the confused police officers on the main street. In a couple of hours, there will be no police or road patrols in the city. Despite the tanks around the corner, the pub opened doors at noon. Men in uniform came for coffee; civilians came for gossip.
Hundreds of Rostovites ignored the governor’s recommendation to stay home: some lined up at train stations and gas stations, others greeted ‘guests.’ Student Veronica threw the bare necessities into the car—the family had decided to leave for Georgia immediately. They had left the city past machine gun posts. ‘I don’t know when we’ll be back,’ she wrote to me on the way to Lars.
Rostov locals jokingly call the stretch of Budennovsky Avenue near the circus, the Southern Military District HQ, and the Interior Ministry ‘Three Circus Square’. I came to see how events would develop. Families with children are walking among the tanks and soldiers with machine guns at the ready, taking pictures. The machine gunner took up a position on the stairs across the street from the headquarters. Almost everyone stumbles over him — one can envy such restraint.
Shouts from the crowd: ‘I don’t fear the end of the world!’ A man in shorts, sandals over socks and an eight-piece cap gives a speech in the middle of a blocked-off street: ‘I’m not for the president! But I respect him — Vova is a good guy. But that ruling party around him? That’s all bullshit! Here are the guys who were diying… 25 thousand! Died for the fucking Bakhmut! Who backed them up, huh? No one!’ A mercenary with a blue bunny on his backpack interrupted the enraged fighter for justice and separated him from the crowd. The citizens try to calm him down.
Past the mercenaries, I reached the corner with my office building. An elderly man with a sun-dried face smiled shyly with at best a couple of dozen yellow teeth, but did not allow me to take a photo of the helmet with his call sign.
No way to the tank at the circus gates — a Wagnerite in a blindingly white T-shirt disperses those wishing to photograph the exhibit, making an exception only for children. I tried to photograph a civilian bringing bottles of water to the tank brigade, but the Wagnerite stopped me, saying, ‘Darling, don’t.’ ‘It’s a secret facility,’ he snapped. The barrel of the T-90M is aimed straight at the windows of the Ministry of Internal Affairs headquarters.
I asked the Wagnerite who stopped me what was going on. He replied: “Counter-terrorist operation” in that killer voice men use when they answer the phone while sitting on the couch in cat-printed boxers.
The tracks on the asphalt depict a reverse parking scheme — the tank is blocking the exit from the headquarters courtyard. Rostov women ask the crew: ‘Why did you destroy the gates like that?’ — ‘Actually, they tried to kill us while we were driving here.’
Bar owner Roman is packing his ’emergency suitcase’ and following the news with his wife. ‘Always knew the Rostov guys had balls of steel,’ he comments on a video of the festivities at the circus.
The mercenaries spoke harshly, but politely, not even chasing away the provocateurs much — they just kept an eye to ensure there were no incidents. People weren’t afraid of them — they’re one of us, they wouldn’t hurt civilians. ‘In the morning, we entered Rostov with the feeling and understanding that we’re on our own land and won’t bother anyone here,’ says one of the participants in the mutiny. Still, on social media, people are asking those out walking not to bring kids near the tanks and soldiers who are ready for combat. Hardly anyone took seriously the possibility of an armed conflict between the military headquarters and the PMC, where bystanders could get caught in the crossfire.
Rostovites greeted the Wagnerites as guests and heroes. By evening, the tank decorated with flowers was surrounded by a crowd that was impossible to control. People wanted to touch the equipment, shake hands with Prigozhin or the fighters — they were thrilled by such a show on their own streets. For Rostov residents, the Wagner PMC soldiers were heroes fighting ‘for their damn Bakhmut.’ This attitude is typical for Rostov-on-Don — politically irresponsible and far from oppositional. Not a single person came to the circus with a protest sign, nor did anyone try to join the rebels or express opposition to the regime.
‘One thing’s for sure — if this dragged on and blood was shed, it would’ve spiraled into a civil war and everything would’ve fallen apart,’ war correspondent Sergey Shilov told me. Sergey and his partner were filming a report right at the scene.
At the same time, the fateful ‘failed to reach’ caused disappointment in Rostov. It had already become clear that the hero of today is the corpse of tomorrow. The mutiny demonstrated the regime’s vulnerability to the possibility of armed protest. The military took action. Over the summer, the headquarters building was surrounded by barbed wire along the top of the fence. Thick oilcloth and camouflage netting closed the perimeter from prying eyes. Pickup trucks of ‘volunteer’ organizations with military license plates appeared at the entrances to the territory.
One year later. ‘Prigozhin wanted pies and hugs’
On the anniversary of the ‘March for Justice,’ local media gave detailed coverage. But as the day went on, the comments got increasingly annoyed: ‘Nobody cares,’ ‘Sick of hearing about Prigozhin! Seriously, calling him a hero?’ Tatiana’s comment sums up the followers’ skepticism: ‘As if there’s nothing else to report. Wagner PNC, Makhachkala, accidents, garbage. Oh, and still no water, not like that’s changing anytime soon. It’s literally running down the streets — go ahead and bathe in it. Thanks for the attention.’
For some, the city takeover wasn’t a show or a parade of military hardware. Rostov resident Olga recalls waking up to loud bangs and shouting. She looked out the window and saw a tank: ‘People were acting like clowns — taking selfies, hugging the Wagnerrites. Trust me, it’s no joke when your children are sleeping nearby. Thank God it all ended without civilian casualties. I’ll never forget that feeling.’
I asked around at nearby bars whether there were any ‘celebrations’ for the anniversary. The bartenders just shrug — if anything did happen, no one really noticed. At the same time, Veronika, the student, returns for a few days to pick up her diploma. ‘That was a legendary day,’ she writes in a private message.
After the war began, many government employees realized that no matter how many late nights they pulled or how hard they pushed themselves, nothing would ever really change in this country. Elena resigned from the university in the spring of 2022. A PhD candidate, teacher and expert in higher education, she devoted 25 years to it. ‘It was a farce!’ she says, commenting on the events of last June. ‘Prigozhin had been very close to Putin, but not being a politician, he didn’t understand that you don’t play games with a man like that. Just being a moneybag wasn’t enough for him — he wanted real power and public adoration. Prigozhin wasn’t trying to seize anything. He wanted to be seen. He wanted pies and hugs. He probably thought he could scare Putin into negotiating — but he miscalculated. Because, as I said, Prigozhin was a thug and a moneybag, not a politician.’
Rostov is a million-plus city where everyone knows each other within a few handshakes. In recent years, though, a sense of unease has settled in — and the walls have ears. Say words like ‘PMC’ or ‘Wagner,’ and people glance over their shoulders; bartenders suddenly get very busy polishing glasses. ‘In today’s world, talking about things like that is dangerous,’ notes Roman, a bar owner — even though, on the surface, the mutiny seems to have been quietly forgotten.
‘Wagner PMC now resembles what it was before the war in Ukraine,’ explains Alexander, the commander of the legendary tank. »Luxury War’ is when the water comes out of the tap. Sometimes they don’t bring us water — just sweet soda and energy drinks. We were paid according to the contract, but had to buy all the equipment at our own expense. Those who were in Ukraine went there because they thought it was right, not for the money. We wanted to quickly end the war. Now we dispersed across the country after their contracts ended are like a dormant patriotic cell, ready to come back at any moment. This isn’t mercenary work. That’s what sets us apart from other PMCs around the world. No one tells us to take out some guy just because he’s in Putin’s way or someone else’s. The ‘Wagner Group’ acts solely in Russia’s interests. The core is now at home, working civilian jobs. But if something happens, they’ll all go wherever they’re told without hesitation. ‘
After all this mess he got the Medal for Courage and the Black Cross of Wagner PMC, two medals for Bakhmut, and one for Artemovsk. Yes, they are written differently. I asked: ‘How could this happen, if you are such heroes, then what happened to those journalists in the Republique Centrafricaine?’ I was talking about Orkhan Dzhemal, Kirill Radchenko and Alexander Rastorguev, Russian journalists who were killed in the Central African Republic in 2018. They were working on a film about the activities of the Wagner PMC there. ‘I don’t know. You and I will never know,’ — came the answer of the man who was afraid to admit the idea that his superiors and comrades were murderers, and not liberator heroes, as it seemed to him.
Signed in. ‘People follow whoever holds the power.’
The circus is being restored. On the broken gates, between the circus posters and scaffolding — ‘Prigozhin is a hero!’ In front of the headquarters there is new asphalt. Across the road on the alley along Pushkinskaya Street — raised tiles and a broken road. If all this reminds Rostovites of the events of a year ago, it no longer causes delight.
There are dissenters in the city — but supporters of Navalny, for example, didn’t come to the circus that day. They simply didn’t want to support the ‘butcher,’ no matter what slogans he shouted, as they explained to me. ‘I’m sure there are many people in Rostov who oppose the war,’ said Anastasia Shevchenko, a Rostov activist and Boris Nemtsov Prize laureate who emigrated after serving time in prison. ‘I know many of them personally. On the day Navalny was arrested, thousands took to the streets of Rostov. They haven’t gone anywhere since.’
The people who came to the ‘March for Justice’ were mostly observers — to satisfy their curiosity and to ‘check in.’ What was the political demand of the few Rostov residents who brought water and food to the circus, voicing words of support? Shevchenko answers: ‘There’s a demand for a change of power. Putin has worn out his welcome in this city — not just for me. Plus, people follow whoever holds the power. Putin looked weak and confused during the mutiny. He looks the same now. And if Kadyrov were to move on the Kremlin now, people would probably support him too.’
Valeriia Chegge
