Other Post Ukrainian War Stories

The Role of Snipers in the Donbas Trench War

Ukrainian military casualties from sniper attacks have been on the rise for months. According to estimates, about a third of Ukrainian soldiers fall to enemy sniper fire. Ukrainian military intelligence and volunteers have been tracing the presence of both Russian professional snipers and their proxies (Tyzhden.ua, July 25, 2019). The latter are trained in Russian military camps to defend the separatist forward line and play a propaganda role to deflect attention from the presence of Russian professional snipers in the rear (Milnavigator, July 21, 2019).

Throughout the war, Russian snipers have held the advantage, while Ukraine has had to be creative to catch up. Although both began fighting with the same Soviet sniper rifle, the Dragunov (SVD-63), the Russian SVDs had new barrels and PSO-3 scopes and fired new high-quality rounds. Ukrainians, on the other hand, wielded Soviet-era SVDs with worn-out barrels and old scopes and were using up the last low-quality SVD sniper rounds and then switching to machine gun rounds. To address these shortcomings, Ukrainian volunteers helped upgrade the SVDs with new silencers, sights, and bipods, but the old barrels still impair accuracy (Donbas.Realii, November 25, 2019).

To be effective against Russian rifles requires more powerful weapons than the old SVD. Ukrainian forces are abandoning their Soviet legacy weapons in favor of Western and Ukrainian designs. Volunteers and private companies procured hundreds of carbine hunting rifles and NATO round rifles. The UR-10, manufactured by a Ukrainian company, Zbroyar, has a range of 1,200 meters and is designed to replace the SVD (Expres, December 7, 2019). Its higher-quality optics and .308 caliber rounds improve precision, while a newer PBS silencer better camouflages the fire (Ukrainian military TV, May 27, 2019). The long-range Savage, Barrett, and Canadian PGW LRT-3 are also now used by Ukrainian snipers. However, despite their long-range and hard-hitting capabilities, experts say that in the trench war, Ukrainian snipers need smaller caliber rifles like UR-10, VPR-308, Galatz, or McMillan. Given their lighter weight and usability, they are more effective and allow better mobility (Depo.ua, August 14, 2018).

Ukrainian snipers have made significant advances in training and new weapons procurement. Adding sniper teams to each battalion, not just special forces, delivered an immediate force multiplier. Yet, Ukraine may still take another ten years to fully realize its sniper potential. Poor funding, army bureaucracy, and ammunition shortages preclude Ukrainian snipers from reaching their potential today. With proper resources, Ukrainian snipers will be more capable of hindering Russian advancement and forcing Moscow to pay a higher price for its aggression.
 
Battalion Donbass fighting in summer 2014, Ilovaisk, Ukraine.

Call sign Bani, name Pavlo Petrenko, 12/3/89 - 08/29/14.
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Move this post to a photo thread, please.
 
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Liashuk Maksym, patrol police company “Svityaz`”
Father: My son – Liashuk Maksym Volodymyrovych, born on May 18, 1989, in Lutsk.

Liashuk Olya, the wife: the commander of the second platoon of patrol police company “Svityaz`”, my husband.

It all had started before Maidan. He got imbued with what was happening around. And when it came to the Heavenly Hundred and Crimea, Maksym decided to enlist in “Svityaz`” as a volunteer. He was not called into the army. He worked as an adventure racing coach in school in Ostrozhets. Also, he was a teacher in Radyanske village and in the town of Mlyniv. Before that, he worked in a special police force “Sokil”.

Since day one it was not the right place for him. And he became a school teacher. Children learned a lot with him. Together they made several treks. The team he trained won twice at the competition “Stezhkamy heroyiv” (Along the Path of Heroes). Once it fell into his mind to go to Crimea since he had already traveled the length and the breadth of the Carpathians. He managed to take pupils there before the occupation. I gave birth to Matviyko and two weeks later Maksym had a 7-10 day walking tour. He missed his son badly. I asked him ‘Where’re you going? Your son is here’. And he answered ‘I made a promised’. He was very proud that children had seen Crimea before it was occupied. Right after the invasion, Maksym strived to go to Crimea. He said he must go there and defend. But we somehow talked him out of it. I was against his going to Maidan as well. I needed his help with the baby. Then we persuaded him a second time not to go. But he was determined and set out.

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We never discussed his decision. He simply asked what I think of those who got a draft notice and went underground. He said he would not go into hiding and was ready to defend his homeland. What triggered him was his comrade who led “Svityaz” battalion. And Maksym left to discuss certain subjects with him. In my mind, by that time the idea to join the battalion had already occurred to him. Because such a decision – to up and defend the Fatherland – cannot be spontaneous. When he came back after the meeting with Fatzevych, Maksym said ‘You may congratulate me now. I am a policeman again’

Some people still believe that Maksym’s intention was to get privileges as a combat veteran. But I wonder how self-confident one should be to believe that he will not die and grab it all. I am not saying that Maksym was fearless. Fear is the common state. But still, there was a little doubt in his mind. He did not lose his courage, though. Only true men are ready to lay down their lives for their country.

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Father: He was amongst the first ones to enlist in “Svityaz”. He left his job at once. I told him, ‘This is a real war. Think of your wife and son’. And he answered, ‘Dad, what will I say to my son when he asks why our country is so small?’ Those were boys with unbroken spirit. I remain in contact with his comrades. And those who are no more – according to their dearest and nearest – those boys were true patriots and devotees. They had a sense of purpose; they believed that it is possible to change the country. So, they caught fire. We even did not know who was with him then. He was away on training from morning till night. During the Maidan, they spent their days and nights. They stood guard and kept soldiers from breaking up the demonstration. There is a military unit here in Lutzk.

Going home from work I sometimes drive him home too. But sometimes he stayed at the base. Maksym was always in action. He never stood still. From the very beginning, it was clear that he would go to the Donbas. How hard we tried to talk him out…

Olya, the wife: He told me that it was just a territorial defense battalion of Volyn region. Two months later I understood that he would be sent to ATO zone. And still, it was a volunteer battalion, not the regular army. There were only light weapons. And they should not have gone to Ilovaisk. He assured me that their task was to mop-up the separatist-free territory.

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On Aug. 13 they left to ATO zone. I was watching TV and heard that reinforcement is needed in Ilovaisk. And in the evening Maksym called and told that they are to be in some other place which he did not name. I said, ‘It is Ilovaisk’. ‘How do you know it?’, as though I was the Chief of Defense. I said, ‘From the news’. They were told to reinforce. Light weapons. A small amount of food for a day or two… He did not even take his shockproof phone that holds a charge for a month. And when I found out that they were encircled, I was sure we would keep in contact by phone. But he did not take it along.

On Aug. 28 he made a call to each and everyone. We stayed in touch then. In the evening Maksym asked how it is going. One can hear whether the person is in the building or out. I never questioned him about their location, since I know the calls could have been monitored. And he never specified. ‘Are you outside?’ ‘I am’. Pause. What I made from it was that either it became silent and nobody was firing, or they were getting ready to leave. These were my guesses. He said he would call if he had an opportunity.

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Father: He called me on Aug. 27 and told that the ice had been broken. They got one killed and one wounded in action. I know everything. I can put you onto each day of these four months. It started from Ischuk’s funeral and when six soldiers were listed as missing. Then ‘Svityaz’ came home, all people began to inquire. Fatzevych talked largely about what a great combatant he was. I then told him ‘You’re a bad shepherd. Bad is the shepherd who came back without his herd.’


And here it came. On Sep. 2-3 we left for Dnipro. We searched the whole city for him. Then we met with the volunteers. We searched for a clue; we traveled to Kiev, visited Yerimeyev. Imagine that there is no child at home for a month. Only on December 25 we found him and brought him home. I have Maksym’s things he had with him.

Olya, the wife: The picture in the morgue, of which his father recognized him, was dated September 1. The withdrawal operation was on August 29 in the morning. I don’t know where they were in between.

Father: Body identification began on September 1 at midnight. I received a call at work. Many questions about his uniform, T-shirt, underwear. He wore the icon of St. Nicholas. Very ancient one.


Olya, the wife: The icon belonged to my great-grandfather way back in the First World War. At first, they asked me in what he was. I did not grasp. She asked what he was wearing. I said: black sweater. ‘Maybe it is gray-green?’ And I was in such a state of shock. I ran to the wardrobe. The black sweater was there. I thought how did she know it? And my mom said that they are busy with the dead. This thought did not occur to me. And then, as she said it, I began to look for photos, and I recalled that the sweater was gray-green. And then the woman told me she would send me pictures via e-mail. In the pictures, I saw all his things and the number.
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Father: 3195th. She called me three times and asked if she could send the picture. These are people, you know? We went there late in the night and got this USB drive with the photographs of his body, his clothes, and everything else and brought it home.

Olya, the wife: There was such a difficult situation in Ilovaisk because of many deaths. Perhaps many could not be identified for the bodies were crippled. And Maksym could be identified. On his phone display – please insert a SIM card and make a call. But I understand the situation.

Father: It is still a mystery. 51 men were buried in Zaporizhia. Then, a month later, 150 were buried in the Dnipro. When we came for Maksym we saw how many of them were there. How many mortuary refrigerators were there at the end of December… How many died there – is anybody’s guess. We have a death certificate. Everything is recorded there. We have all the documents; there is a complete description of the body. He is buried here, in the village, right across the street.

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Olya, the wife: The son was 10-months-old. He does not remember his father. But he is such an age now – I want daddy. He merely invents him. Matviyko says, ‘Why don’t I see daddy?’ I told him: Cause he is an angel. He is like an invisible man’ For him, his father – is a superhero, who is simply not visible.


Father: And once when we were swimming a year ago, I showed him a video where they were swimming together. And we went to that place. I cannot describe it to you enough… he ran out of the car and said, ‘Where is my dad?’

Mother: There was a man standing behind him. And Matviyko says: “Oh, Daddy, Daddy!”


Father: All payments have been paid to us; we got an apartment, too. It is all official. Thanks to the police. The chief comes over. He feels guilty. But we are not at a loss. However, it is a pity that nothing has changed; it led to no result.

Olya, the wife: We have some privileges, like a reduced price for utilities. Volunteers give us help. Maksym said’ ‘If anyone should perish, then as a hero, will be buried with dignity. But what happened to him, I find unworthy.


Father: There are dozens of boys from the Volyn region who are listed as missing. But everyone understands that they are not. If we did not do anything if we did not make a hundred calls until we received that flashcard with photos. It is not the state that provided us with them. Why did nobody bring the bodies back? Everyone knew what was happening. It is the war. Why keep it secret? At first, it was reported that there were 60 people died in Ilovaisk, then there were 100 of them. But we all know that the number is up to 3000.

Father: But we are parents and we are worried. I ask, ‘Guys, when did you see Maksym for the last time?’ All of them were riding a bus. Everyone knows who and where to sit, who ran and where. It was thought that when a year passed, maybe someone would talk more. But everything is still in secret.

Many now ask, ‘Why did you let him go?’ If it were not for these guys, Ukraine could not have existed by now. They did not expect that there would be a resistance. Those guys were patriots indeed. And now it is different. They go in the army for the money. But those guys were not interested in whether they would be paid, in whether they would get any benefits. They just did it. They knew it was necessary. They wore a German uniform that was bought on their own.
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Olya, the wife: I sometimes blame myself for that, because what happened had touched my son. Although he was little, he saw and knew a lot. He is probably the very first to feel it. Because when he said goodbye to Maksym, Matviy was crying. He seemed to feel that this was their last meeting. Until then he did not utter the word “daddy”. And when Maksym was in the ATO zone, Matviyko said “daddy”, and then I called Maksym. I knew that it was very painful for him.

When he was in Donbas, he just could not ask about Matviyko, and I felt his pain. Perhaps, he also senses he would not come back. All that he did was for the sake of the future of children. He never stopped repeating that only brave men can put an end to the war.
 
There are no official statistics on suicide rates among veterans, but Oleksandr Tretyakov, then chairman of the parliamentary committee on veterans, said in 2018 that at least 1,000 Ukranian veterans had taken their own lives.
What's more, ex-soldiers report feeling misjudged in society over the perception that the military is an easy life, free from the economic hardships experienced by many Ukrainians.
As a result, half of veterans in a recent EU-sponsored poll said they felt discriminated against and more than a third reported feeling isolated.
Olga Smirnova, the coordinator of the dog therapy programme, says more than one thousand soldiers have benefited since it launched with the help of Canadian instructors in 2015.
Its canine participants wear bright harnesses bearing the programme's name "Hero's friend", and have been trained not to "react aggressively", says Natalia Chuprun, who has been volunteering with the programme with her dog Ricky for four years.
Chuprun says that interacting with the animals makes it easier for veterans to engage with "people who care about them", including those who want to help them professionally.
The dogs also intervene in moments of despair, Chuprun says, recounting how when one veteran was in the middle of a panic attack, "Ricky lay down next to him, so he calmed down."
Victoria, a psychologist at the Kiev military hospital, says she has noticed a drop in anxiety and depression, and "better sleep" in more than half of her patients who take part in the dog therapy sessions.
Oleksandr, a 38-year-old veteran who spent one year at the frontline in eastern Ukraine, says his "life has changed" since Deep Purple, a labrador, was assigned to him in his flat on the outskirts of Kiev.
He says Deep Purple has brought calm to his life and stability to his sleep patterns.

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Therapy dogs bring respite to Ukraine war veterans

 
(This was such a pain in the ass to retraslate so it would make just little more sense in English because the original text dropped or warped 30-40% of the meaning.) Original: https://afterilovaisk.com/en/oleksandr-sarabun-codename-vinnytsia-donbas-battalion/

Part I

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Oleksandr Sarabun, codename “Vinnytsia”, “Donbas” battalion, Mohyliv-Podilskyi

When World War II veterans were still around there was one in our town who we called Uncle Misha. The man was a POW during the WWII, he survived the captivity, escaped twice, and tried to return home in a variety of different ways. However, back home he was almost resented for being a POW.

I remember clearly how on the 9th of May he put on his coat with a couple of medals as he usually did on the 9th of May, but then he sat near his house and cried bitterly. That one time I asked him, “Uncle Misha, why are you crying so hard? Today is the “Victory Day” after all!” And he simply replied with a statement, “Boys, the Soviet Union was the worst evil in the world.”

I did not fully understand one simple thing - history repeats itself. When all the events of 2013-2014 started to unfold, I felt that I did not want to go back to the Soviet Union, to the old ways of “friendship” with Russia. Where our relations could be neatly described by one simple derogatory term from your average Russian “patriot” - “you are just pathetic khokhols, and we are Russians here.”

When Crimea was annexed, I immediately decided everything for myself. Either on March 3rd or on March 4th I was already in the military commissariat, where I filed an application. I thought that they would immediately send all of us to the war. However, I was wrong. During the first wave of mobilization I was assigned to the very same military commissariat where we were making copies of all documents, resummoning people once again, and revising documentation. Long story short I went through 9 circles of bureaucratic Hell.


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July 2019, Vinnytsia region

(Before the war he had been a construction worker. Then became a volunteer fighter, was fighting in the “Donbas” battalion and survived the brekthrough from the encirclement near Ilovaisk. His right leg was fractured by a large-caliber machine gun, and he became a POW. Three days later, he and other soldiers were exchanged for Russian war prisoners. In Dnipro Oleksandr’s leg was amputated. In August 2015, he returned to the army walking on a prosthesis and was responsible for the material provision of one the companies in the 46th “Donbas-Ukraine” battalion. He heads the “Patriot of Ukraine” organization, which helps war veterans and families of those who were killed. He is divorced and a father of three.)

My path to war was quite long. The first unit I was sent to during the 2nd wave was 1st tank Honchariv brigade. First Clerks wrote down my assignment with a simple pencil on a basic sheet of paper without any documents. Turned out that the commissariat clerks left my military ID card back in Vinnytsia, it was given to some officer, but he simply went home without a care in the world. Thus I came running to him to get it back and see what’s the deal, but his reply was, “Take whatever you need and go wherever you want, not like I care.” So I did, went to the Vinnytsia military commissariat and their clerks told me, “F*** off, this is not even a proper ID, so how are we going to tell that you are the man you claim to be?!”

Not having much options, I went back to our military commissariat to have it out with the clerks, where they to my amusement, whether to simply save the trouble or because they did not care much, asked me without any backtalk, “Where do you want to be assigned?” I replied, “To the “Donbas” battalion”, “Well then, gather you thing and set out, not like someone’s holding you here.” Quite surreal to be honest. A bureaucratic game of ping-pong except I am the ball.

“I will never forget that “corridor”. There are such special moments which you just remember, and there are some that you will never forget even if you try.”

I contacted the recruiter and they told that they still needed people, there were 5-6 places left, “if you manage to get here in 5 days, then you have a chance to join the NCO corps of the “Donbas” battalion. I arrived at 8 in the morning, they wrote down my name and so I became the last person registered. At that time, they already started forming the “Crimea” battalion rather than the “Donbas” battalion. This unit was sent to Stare (the village where the National Guard training base was located – editor’s note), where they instead began to form the “Golden Gate” battalion.

Afterwards, I do not know how, “Tur” and the deceased Lyonya, codename “Bronya” [Armor], got in touch with “Filin”. Filin said, “If there is more than 20 people in your group than I will take all of them into the “Donbas”.” There were 29 people. Meanwhile, In the “Golden Gate” I was already appointed as the platoon commander. But then it turns out that they already registered two pieces of weapons on me (even though I did not know about that at the time) for AKSU and a pistol.

I had not even held them in my hands, but I already was made reponsible. When I said that I was going to the “Donbas”, they tried to persuade me not to and to stay in the “Golden Gate”. Their argumentы running along the lines,” c’mon this is a special unit of the Ministry of Internal Affairs.” There was also this famous at the time cossack Havryliuk. He was making the most fuss there, “Brothers, compatriots…”. What a joke. However, I immediately sent him and the “Golden Gate” politely in the right direction and this was probably the right thing to do.

(Mykhailo Havryliuk is an activist from the Maidan. In January 2014, he was stripped naked and humiliated in the cold by the members of the special anti-riot police unit “Berkut” of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, who later posted a video of the torture. In October 2014, at the preterm election of members of the Verkhovna Rada Havryliuk was elected people’s deputy from the People’s Front party. During his tenure he didn’t really draft any useful or necessary laws, but instead got married, bought a car and an apartment, went on vacations abroad and managed to embarrass himself by beating up a journalist)

There were 28 or 29 of us and someone had sent a bus to pick us up and we went to Artemivsk from Stare. I do not know precisely how much time we spent in Artemivsk. What I do remember that we were going to Ilovaisk and it was firt battle for our group. We spent the night near a school in Osykove village. It happened so that there were no weapons left for me in a battalion so I was given an entrenching shovel. I just look at it and think “the F*** I’m going to do with this?!”. And the boys were simply making fun of me, “Well, “Vinnytsia”, congratulations! You will be baptized by fire of your first battle while holding onto an entrenching shovel. Ain’y that amusing?” Assholes laughing their asses off. Lyonya “Bronya” then gave me a grenade and said half-jokingly ad half-seriously, “In a case things go awry, this will help you go with a bang.”

Then when we were relocated to the base in Kurakhove, “Tar” and “Vosmyi” arrived and brought us two crates with weapons. I took an AKS with a grenade-launcher attachment, but for some reason that attachment kept falling off. I tried firing once and while the grenade swiftly flew forward the attachment went behind. S**t just never goes your way, isn’t it? Then “Tar” found a kevlar helmet for me somewhere. I still have it at home as a memento. And the now deceased “Filosoph” [Philosopher] (who later burned to death in a tank in the 93rd brigade) gave me some sort of Canadian uniform.

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August 28, 2014, 6:42 pm. Ilovaisk, the evening before leaving the “green corridor”.
Vinnytsya carries ammunition.

I will never forget that “corridor”. There are such special moments which you just remember, and there are some that you will never forget even if you try. The thing I remember most is, when we were under a heavy artillery shelling, I approached “Zubr” who had once served as a chaplain at a Protestant church and told him, “Zubr, pray for us, I have a feeling that not all of us will return from this battle.”

He took off his helmet, sat down on ammunition boxes, put his hands together and started praying. Someone sitting on the side grunted, “Yeah, like this prayer is going to help you or anything.” I remember clearly how I alapped him with a helmet and advised him to pray for his soul. And the next day he was killed. I saw men carrying his body covered with a blanket. This was the moment when I realized that there is God.

After the decision to retreat from Ilowaisk we set out early, everyone got onto the vehicles and in the cars. There was me, our boys from recon, all of “Tur’s boys: Lyonya “Bronya”, “Monakh” [Monk in Ukrainian], “Ryba” [Fish in Ukrainian], and “Biker” all were sitting beside me. “Zubr”, “Tar” and “Max” were sitting in the car. There were also some guys from “Kryvbas” battalion and we were also picking up men from the 93rd as we went forward. The issue was that a lot of their armour was either broken or destroyed.

Some of them came up and said, “Guys, our vehicles are destroyed.” I remember telling then when I saw that they had many more intact, “Wow, so much armour, but why aren’t you using them?” However, it turned out that half of it was out of order. When we were rearranging our columns near Mnohopillia some officer – shabby and dirty – said, “Guys, the shelling here was so intense that half of our vehicles are done.” And some other guys asked me to take them with us, for some reason he thought that I was in charge. We had some spare places so I said, “Get in, if you want.” All of them got inside and we continued on our path.

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August 29, 2014, 6:29 AM. Mnohopillia , the Ukrainian military column is formed to exit.

For some reason halfway out we stopped ain the middle of the field. Some said that negotiations about some “corridor” were underway. However, the boys said that agreement about the “corridor” had already been sealed, what could theyeven be talking about?! And before that “Tur” said that all bulletproof vests had to be hung on the sides of the truck, because if anything happens, “at least you will have an opportunity to hide behind them.” I was sitting near a wheel. “Bronya” and “Monakh” were sitting next to me.

Shortly after 2 shells flew in our direction and everyone started shouting - “What the F***, why is someone firing at us?” Then the columns started moving. We were leaving, the road was heading into a forest line, and they (Russians – editor’s note) were sitting in front of us already entrenched and waving at us. Well, probably forty meters away from us. It all looked rather surreal, they were waving at us, we were waving at them. No major signs of hostility the “corridor” was working or that was what we thought.

Under such atmosphere I didn’t even consider that something horrible was about to happen. When we heard explosions, Lyonya “Bronya” calmly said, “Gear up.” Lyonya had no helmet, because he had given it to “Zubr”. He told him, “Zubr, you are our driver, you need it more than I do.” That actually saved “Zubr’s” life because he got git with a fragmentation it the head on the way.


We started moving, and I heard that “Filin” started shouting, “Attention! We have to break through with a fight. Ambush!” In other words, we had been deceived. Then “Tur” repeated the same command. “Column, advance forward!” And the Hell broke loose. One explosion then the second one, more and more; I even could not hear “Tur” anymore. Then I understood that he was gone.

I was horrified and in a temporary stupor: there was a “GAZelle” in the column, and there were two KiAs in it, wrapped in blankets. Either an SPG or a “Fagot” hit it. This was a dropside car, not closed. One guy immediately fell out of it, and the one who was closer to me was falling out of that “GAZelle” and burning. Then everyone started firing in all directions. “Monakh looked through a sniper rifle scope and saw that apparently some bigwig colonel of the enemy was killed, morover after we returned fire I heard them shouting on their walkie-talkie, “F***, they killed the colonel!”

There was also a bekha (an armored personnel carrier – editor’s note) there, it was getting out into the open, firing several rounds and hiding back in the “green”. S**t, they dug in deep there. There was a guy with us in the car, I do not know which brigade he was from. So he took an RPG, loaded it and hit that bekha with one precise shoot. Call it luck or skill I don’t care.

“Zubr” (the driver – editor’s note) was winging from side to side all the time. In combat it seemed to me that only five minutes had passed, but it turned out that everything lasted for an hour. And so this moment came. First Lyonya was killed – a shell hit his head, then “Monakh” started shouting that he was injured. Something hit the car. “Zubr” started leading us out. Then there was another shot somewhere in the back…

“Lord, if you help me get out of here alive, I will change my ways and will live in a completely different way, I will continue on the path of foolishness that I was on before the war.” And God either took pity on me or showed mercy, but I got out of there alive.

I got down on my knees, picked up either a sniper or an assault rifle, and started to return fire. I have no idea where that young boy came from – his weapon either got jammed, or he was reloading it… For six months I saw his eyes in my nightmares after that day. He was so young, fair-haired, with no helmet. He was only wearing uniform and a vest – as if he was about to demobilize not go to war.

He was standing there in a trench near the “green” (a line of trees and bushes beside the roads and other places) and pulling on that jammed assault rifle, and I shouted, “You are F***ed, katsap [a derogatory for Russians].” Bang-bang! I put a bullet right between his eyes. He fell to the ground, but after someone probably concentrated fire on us and I felt severe pain in my leg. “Zubr” stopped the car and I fell out of that KrAZ. My leg twisted to one side, and the rest of my body fell to the other side. Dima “Skiff” ran over to me and started dragging me with someone. Katya, a nurse, and Alina ran over to me. They looked at my leg and saw that there was a huge hole in it and fractured bones were sticking out.

Afterwards at a hospital, when we were evacuated, it turned out that I also was hit in the bladder. The girls sat up bandages and injected me with some painkill or something. Sasha “Haydamaka” used a window jamb from the truck to set up a splint. Then I took it off because there were some nails in it. All of this was happening when we already were near some huts.

I opened my eyes and saw a KAMAZ driving straight at me. The driver was from the guard company; his legs were broken by the machinegun og something. I was lucky that there was a concrete pillar next to me, so the car hit it instead. Then the guy was pulled out of the car, and this KAMAZ was set on fire. I saw that his legs were out, but he was alive.

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December 2015. “Vinnytsya” in service in the 46th battalion of the Armed Forces of Ukraine “Donbass-Ukraine”.

“Tar” and I were laying there. I had a grenade in a side pocket of my bulletproof vest. I took it out and put it under my ass. I was sitting there crying and told “Tar”, “This is the end, we’re done. “Tar”, I am sitting on a grenade, I won’t be a POW.” I continued, “Sorry, my dear daughter, daddy won’t come back again.” It was so scary. Then I calmed down a bit. I thought, “Lord, if you help me get out of here alive, I will change my ways and will live in a completely different way, I will continue on the path of foolishness that I was on before the war.” And God either took pity on me or showed mercy, but I got out of there alive.

“What the F*** are you doing? They’ll kill us all!” We could already hear single shots here and there.

“What kind of officer leaves his wounded? Have you no shame? How can you do this?”


I do not remember what was happening next. My mind was hazy for a while. I remember some “green”, huts, and a small vegetable garden. A tree, a machine gun, two “zincs” (a metal box made of mostly zinc in which ammunition is stored – editor’s note) of ammunition and two volunteer fighter who were sitting and smoking. Even though everything calmed down more or less we were still in a positional combat, but they were either in a stupor or simply did not care about what was happening.

I started yelling and they were not responding. I shouted at them, “Shoot!” and they said, “Buzz off.” They left the machine gun and went into the hut. I dragged myself to the machine gun position, started shooting without even properly seeing anything. I used those two “zinks” up.

After the fire ceased. I saw Roma rearranging his machine gun and the boys digging trenches. I tried to crawl into the house. There were many soldiers in the hallway, I said, “F***, help me, drag me into the house, I can’t go up the stairs.” Some officer yelled, “Pick up that, because he will be killed outside the house.” In the meantime, wounded Lyonya “Ryba” was under a tree covered with bulletproof vest, like a turtle. They pulled me in, I almost lost consciousness, because they did not lift me, they just dragged and then sat me near the door.

And I heard the them on the radio, “Enough, just surrender and go out, we will not shoot.” There was me and another man lying in the house, but he was dead already. His upper body was severely injured; there was no chance for him to survive. Meanwhile, explosions could be heard outside. They were chaotic. One of the shells hit the house. I said, “F***, come on, kill us already, just quit with you f***ing whistling here, stupid mine.” The roof was hit twice. Dima Kulish (“Semyorka” – editor’s note) later told us that the house burnt down. And the man who had died was left there.

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July 2019, Vinnytsia region
 
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Part II

Everyone started surrendering, the army troops went out of the house. Two guys ran over to us, they seemed to be Russians. It was noticeable that those were not separatists. Where would separatists get an AS Val rifle and and a fully modded AK with a fancy fire transfer handle and all?! Those were young guys, probably 20-25 years old probably contractors or something. There was a flag of Russia on the uniform of one of the men, but except for that, I could not see any identification marks, since shoulder straps were wrapped in white cloth. One of them said in Russian, “Oi, there is a wounded guy here,” and the other replied, “Well, F*** him anyway, he’ll walk on his own.” And they ran out of the house. I got goosebumps upon understanding that I would probably die there.

Shortly after came the moment I will never forget. I tried crawling out of the house because the shelling started again. I thought that we had to get out, otherwise we would be done. Lyonya, “Ryba” lwas still laying outside, and there were also some other wounded. “Senya” (Serhiy Vasylkov) was crawling, wrapped in some sweatshirt, and holding two magazines in his hand (the deceased “Vosmyi” had given him his pistol – either a TT pistol or a Stechkin automatic pistol – before the breakthrough).

“Senya” was lying wounded in the KAMAZ this whole time, it is a miracle that he survived. I still do not know he got out of there either he fell out, or someone pulled him out. So, “Senya” was crawling and shouting his lungs out, “You maggots, don’t even think about surrendering, I’ll f***ing end you all if you do!!!” While being wounded, some projectile or something broke his legs. And he was still crawling and shouting this. He is now safe and sound, lives in Lozova.

And then I heard a phrase that really burned into my memory. While everyone who could walk gathered outside. I crawled to the hallway. And “Gal”, Anatoliy Vynohrodskyi, whom I will consider to be a real piece of S**t for the rest of my life, said, “I was negotiating with Russians, they gave us 60 minutes to take all the wounded and dead then leave. But I made a decision that we’ll leave under the radar.” I said, “What the F*** are you doing? You’re leaving us? They’ll kill us all!” We could already hear single shots here and there. “What kind of officer leaves his wounded? Have you no shame? How can you do this?” He looked at me blankly, then they simply departed and that was all. Katya (a nurse – editor’s note) came running to me and said, “Vinnytsia, sorry, S**t happens, we are leaving,” and took off.

I cried and said to “Senya”, “What shall we do, bro?” “Senya” replied, “We crawl.”

“But we’ll die. It’s hot, cause its August. Either heat or gangrene will kill us in the field.” He said, “Bro, at least we will die as free men, and not in captivity.”


Then Sasha “Haydamaka” ran over to us and while crying. I said, “Sanya [shortened from Sasha], why didn’t you leave with the others?”, “How can I leave knowing that you are dying here?!” How can I live with this?”

I think this was a heroic act, but he broke off the main group after which “Haydamaka” was accused of being a coward, even though he should have been given a medal. “Sanya, but how are you going to save us? You are alone, but there are many of us here.” “Tar” was beaten up and lying in the basement, and there were also “Monakh”, “Senya”, “Ryba”, and I. He went to the Russians and they told him, “Oh, so you are from the “Donbas”, and he fed them a lie, “No, I am from the police battalion, I fell asleep here at a checkpoint and woke up in the morning, there were explosions, and I was the only one abandoned here.”

They said, “We’re not interested in cops.” He said, “There are wounded there.” The Russian officer “Lisa” first wanted to refuse, “How will I take your men, if so many of my men are already wounded. My men are dying, and you offer me to take yours.” Sanya replied, “Take them. At least they will die normally on the Russian territory, cause otherwise they will be tortured by separatists.” He said, “Okay, bring them here, but if they die – they die.”

When they were carrying us, I had to throw a USB stick, a SIM-card, and a cell phone away, because they checked everything. There were quite a few things to find there. “Senya” shouted, “F*** you, I won’t give my chevron away, I’ll kill everyone for it.” I said, “Bro, you will buy a new chevron, but you can’t buy life. If they find out that you are a volunteer, they’ll kill you.”

They thought us to be some kind of special forces. The level of delusions then They shouted, “Who are you?” I said, “I’m just a construction worker.” “And where did you serve before?” “In the Army.” There were a total of around 1,000 of us in Ilovaisk and outskirts at the moment of breakthrough, but someone fed the bullshit that they were going against 5,000 men strong group.

They brought us to the Russians. I saw our destroyed KrAZ lying on the ground and two burned bodies. Later I found out that those were Andriy “Bravo” and Lyonya “Bronya”. And there was that sickly sweet smell in the air. A piece of burnt body was thrown in the grass near the road and there was a cracking sound inside that piece. I do not know who that was. I sniffed and asked, “What is it?” One of the men said, “This is how a burnt man smells.” I still remember that person’s smell to the point of bringing tears to my eyes…

“Lisa” said, “Well, now your life depends on this “Gal”, where the heck is he?” He abandoned us, but later he was walking around, puffing his chest and telling everyone how valiantly he got almost 40 people out! Some soldiers ran over to us asking their friends, “Who is this?” “Who is this?” And someone said, “The wounded ukrops from Ilovaisk.”

The men shouted at him, “F***, you should have killed them, they had killed so many of our boys!” They started recording video of us on their phones and someone told them, “And you f***ing thought what, that they are some sheep and would be harmless? They are warriors, they know what is at stake in combat and what they fight for. And what the F*** are we even doing here?” I thought, “Holy S**t! A Russian saying something like this.”

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September 4, 2014. At the scene of the shooting of the Ukrainian military in the “green corridor”.

It was getting dark. They said that they would take us to Rostov, would give us some medical treatment there and that we would be tried as the enemies of the Russian Federation. The Russians did not conceal the fact that they were the group of Ulyanovsk Airborne brigade, showed the AS Val rifles, told us that they had been waiting us for three days. They said if it had lasted for one more day, they would have just left. When we were asking about the “corridor”, they replied, “No one was actually going to let you go.”

I asked them to give me something to numb the pain, because it hurt a lot. They even gave others water and cigarettes. But they did not want to give me anything. “At least give me a piece of tourniquet to fix my leg, I understand that I am an enemy for you, but there must be some kind of a code.” They gave a piece of tourniquet after all and I fixed my leg with it.

There was one man there, who said, “Well, ukrop, your leg is getting black, you will have it either cut off or you will die before we exchange you.” And “Ryba” grunted, “So finish us off already. What, you thought I’d be begging for mercy? I knew what I signed up for, I’m a warrior.”

To which he unexpectedly replied while also speaking with to his buddies,
“See, here is the difference between us and them here – we bury our men in the shallow graves and they do not even beg for mercy. They are ready to put up with the stench of the corpses of their dead only to be able to take them along, whereas we bury our men in a forest line like dogs.”

After a while they said, “Lucky you, ukrops, you will live, we have an agreement to exchange you.”

When I was being carried out, I was slowly growing weaker. Losing conscience all the time. It was September. We were taken to a field hospital near Zaporizhia via “chopper”. Doctors were running around, one of them was constantly bending to turn the wounded over. He said, “F***, how many of them are there? What a bother.” And the doctor told him, “If you continue to talk S**t, I will send you to where they came from, just continue carrying them.” Then I was brought into the operating room. There was a woman in a surgical coat there, I told her, “Mother, can I just die already, this leg is torturing me so much.” And she told me, “Boy, keep yourself together, where is your phone?” I said, “I threw everything away when we were captured.”

And the leg began to look the shade of coke, it was very dark and already stank. The doctor asked, “What is stinking so much?” “It’s me, doctor, it’s my leg.” He said, “Wow, man, gangrene is already on the march. Can you call home? Where’s your SIM-card, where’s your cell phone?” I had been there for three days, and I kept the SIM-card in my mouth during all that time. It is a mystery how I did not swallow it and how it did not dampen. I took it out, the woman went to check whether it was working, and when she came back, she said, “You won’t believe – you have 170 SMS and 190 missed calls.”

Out of all the phone numbers, most calls where from Alla Serhiyivna, our mayor’s wife. She was the only person who knew that I was in Ilovaisk. She supported me through the course of battle like a mother. My sister, brother-in-law, daughter, and many other people had also called.

Then we were brought to Dnipro. I was thirsty and cold all the time. They carried me in an ambulance. There were two young women there. I said to one of them, “Hold my hand, I want to die so badly and you’re so beautiful in your white coat.” She started crying, “Don’t die yet. How old are you, 40?” “No, I’m only 35,” I said.

And the other woman said, “Dear Lord, what did you go through out there, that you aged so much in last two weeks?!”

I was brought to the operating room at the hospital. The doctors operated us – “Senya” and I – on two tables. They said, “Life or death? If we leave the leg, there is no guarantee that we won’t cut it off in a year and there is a high chance of septicemia which will kill you. Or we cut the leg off and there is a chance to save you.” I said, “How will I live without a leg at my age?”

However, I signed a document in which I consented to the leg amputation. “Cut his vest and belt and take them off him.” I caught his hand mid-air, “Take them off properly. I will not allow you to cut the vest and the belt because those are the only things left from Ilovaisk.” He said, “You do not quite look like a dying man now, in fact strong enough for me to not even be able of taking my hand away.”

I still have that vest (Telnyashka). I had been going to a construction site in it, it was covered in putty a little bit, and I got through the war in it. I said to my kids, “When I die once, give it to a museum.” However, they did cut my pants, but kept the vest intact. They also cut my shoelaces, took my boots off, and the socks were already gone, as if they had dissolved. They poured something resembling hydrogen peroxide on my leg. That was all. Then I woke up already without a leg.

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July 2019, Vinnytsia region

On the third of September civilian volunteers came and brought me a cell phone, I called my brother-in-law and said, “Serhiy, I’m okay, but my leg was cut off.” Then I heard something falling to the ground. My sister lost consciousness. Later she was undergoing treatment for a year, because she had seizures. She fell, Serhiy brought her to her senses, and she said, “It is good that you are alive. One can live without a leg.” Then I called my ex-wife and said, “Please tell the daughter what happened and that I am alive, just without one leg.”

When I came home I was in a lot of pain, I could not handle it, so, I made injections of nalbuphin and tramadol. I became a beginner drug addict. I tried to fight the addiction on my own. I switched to two injections a day and was mixing nalbuphin with analgin. My sister and daughter had the most trouble with me. Once I was even threatening my daughter with a knife. Then started telling her, “my dear, daddy is not making injections already,” after which I found somewhere private to get another hit. I greatly regret that she had to see me like that.

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Photo: Yuri Velichko

Once I got really scared, because I mistook something meant for toothache for analgin. I made an injection, everything went numb, I started crying. My brother-in-law took a look at the ampule and said, “This is supposed to be injected into the gums to numb them. At least mind what injections you are making.” And then I could not sleep at night, I often had nightmares.

When the kid (daughter – editor’s note) was sleeping, I was looking at her and thinking: “Damn, what will happen next? I’m a cripple without a leg and a beginner drug addict. I have a young daughter – what can I give this child?” I decided that I had to quit. At two o’clock in the morning, I called my brother-in-law and said, “Serhiy, the situation is as follows, we need to go to Vinnytsia, I’ll be ridding of this habit for good, because I’ll either get on the bottom of the bottle, or die of overdose somewhere in the bushes.” The next day we went to a narcologist in Vinnytsia and talked to a doctor. He took a look at me and said, «I do not see the point in putting you into a hospital. If you got to this point from four doses a day on your own, then you overcome this by yourself.” He prescribed me some pills. I still made injections of nalbuphin, but slowly curbed the addiction.

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2016, Mogilev-Podilsky, Vinnytsia region Photo: Markiian Lyseiko

Then I went to a “Walking School” in Austria. I came back from there on a prosthesis, leaning on a stick. I decided for myself that if I would learn to walk the way it would satisfy me than I would return to the ATO zone. I watched a video about an American man who was without two legs. It was told there that disability is “not a shortcoming, it is a challenge to yourself and the society”. So I thought I could find my own meaning in this struggle. And there was also a desire to avenge all those fallen. I did not expect that the war would become so stagnated, I thought we would drive them off all the way to the Ural.

I came to Petrivka, and one general told me, “Vinnytsia, if you want, stay here, we will find you a place to live, you will get a calm paper job in a headquarters.” But I replied that I wanted to fight even with prosthetics. He looked at me closely, “I respect this, but I don’t know… Filin is forming the 46th battalion within the army, if you want – here’s Lermontov’s number, call him.” This was in March. I called him, and he said, “Hello, and who are you?” I said, “My callsighn is “Vinnytsia”, I was one of “Tur’s” men, “Vosmyi” was my commander, I would like to continue service.” He said, “You don’t have one leg?” “What kind of an amputation was this?” “How high?” “I’ll give you Filin’s number, you will talk to him, if he agrees to take you, then come.”

“Filin” told me to come in April. I was so inspired, I only had to lie to everyone that I was not going to the war, but somewhere else. I started telling tales that I was going to work at the ammunition storage and that it was 100 km away from the war zone. On April 10, Lermontov called me, “You can come, we are ready to take you in.” I arrived on April 16; there were probably 30-40 people in the battalion, 10 tents. I came to Filin’s office and he said, “Vinnytsia, frankly speaking, I do not know what to do with you, but since you are already here it turns out you will not be receiving any wage in the beginning, because nobody has yet come up with a job for the disabled.” And at that time the state was giving me UAH 2,700 (around 100 USD) of allowance. For four months, the battalion commander was arranging for some post for me and during that time I started climbing on armoured personnel carriers and tanks and fell off them several times. I could not get rid of my stick for a very long time. Without it I was walking straight, whereas with the stick I was tilting over to one side. I was struggling for two months before I threw that stick away and learned how to walk without it.

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December 2015. ” Vinnytsya “in service in the 46th battalion of the Armed Forces of Ukraine” Donbass-Ukraine “.
Photo: Yuri Velichko

I learned to wear my gear properly, mount and dismount APCs, firing RPGs, SPGs and DShK. I tried walking in a swampy terrain with a DShK on my shoulder, but I got stuck in the ground, I couldn’t feel the leg properly in the end. At the Alliance (military training – editor’s note) I climbed to a height of 20 meters on a prosthesis. The guys went across a ravine, whereas I went forward, holding an assault rifle in front of me without a bulletproof vest. Velychko (Yuriy Velychko, who was the photographer of the “Donbas” battalion at that time – editor’s note) looked at me and said, “Oh, these will be some priceless shots” and took some pictures of me. These shots, as motivators were everywhere on the Ukrainian segment of Internet. I was told earlier, “We won’t take you, because you won’t be able to climb soothing like this.” “Yeah, right, you wish I wasn’t able to climb!” I would not climb over the ravine because it was too steep so I decided to climb across gas pipes.

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I was told, “Vinnytsia, why are you even here, I do not understand.” The fact is I was simply drawn there. The last time I came to the battalion I stayed there for 10 days, and all that time Lermontov was trying to put an “shakhid belt” on me and send me to charge the enemy checkpoint. He asked me, “Vinnytsia, why do you even live, you have no leg after all”. This was his kind of black humour. And I said, “Great, the fact I have one leg means I have no use so let’s make me a suicide bomber and send me to die, right?!” (sarcasm)

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December 2015. ” Lermontov ” and “Vinnytsya”, 46th battalion of the Armed Forces of Ukraine” Donbass-Ukraine “.
Photo: Yuri Velichko

Alyona Solovyova invited me to Mariupol to take part in the Games of Heroes “Power of the Nation”. She told me, “You’re an interesting one, so come over.” But I did not succeed at the first competition, I overextended myself. I am not a professional athlete after all. I tried, but fell and dropped out of the race, did not make it. But after this experience I decided to try my hand at sports instead. I started attending a local gym.

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I am currently studying at the Vinnytsia University, I will be a junior social worker. Need to defend my diploma paper on Monday and then I will transfer to law department. I think I will receive the rank of a lieutenant when I will be approximately 42 and then I will be finding guys like me.

I sent my son to undergo compulsory military service. He told me, “Get me out of this hassle.” “And now why would I do that? I served myself, I was at war and need to put a word for you so you just could not serve? If you want something like this then do it yourself, I won’t be covering you from something like this.” He said that he would serve, but only in the unit where I served, in Petrivka. But in the end, he decided to sign a three-year contract. He signed it, and 8 months or a year later went to the ATO zone. In a sense my son took over my place.

In the zone you understand how short life is. A bullet flies in, 3-4 seconds and you are done. And if you survive this you may live a much wiser life cherishing your family. Before the ATO, my son argued with his mother, even yelled at her. When he returned from the zone, I asked him, “How’s your mother doing?” “Mom is the best.” He said, “I got under shelling there and finally understood that I really love everyone and really want to live.” Yeah, I was the same.

I still have an old crucifix from Ilovaisk. Broke it and tried to fix it many times. When we were in Kurakhovo some people came and gave us these crosses. But I did not wear it. It fell off the day before the “corridor”. At that time Andriy “Bravo”, Lyonya, some other guys, and I were sitting in a trench. I said, “Guys, my crucifix fell off, I have a bad feeling.” Andriy replied, “Vinnytsia, it’s bad sign that it fell off, not everyone will get out of here”. And see what happened…

We have not won yet. The war is still not over. It will be over when they lay down their weapons. But if we lay down our weapons than Ukraine will be no more.

But if we lay down our weapons than Ukraine will be no more. They will either tear us to pieces or just split us in half. I think everything depends on each and every one of us. If we band together and drive them away from here, we can succeed. Everyone says, “Why don’t they (government) can’t end the war?” However, no one asks, “Why won’t Putin get out of here?!” I do not regret that we have shown that we are indeed a great nation, that we have kicked such a huge aggressor of country’s teeth in. On the other hand, the price was very high…
 
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Ukraine strong man.

Zelenskiy gave a deadline of a year from December’s first summit with Putin to find a breakthrough. “I won’t give my five years, which were given to me by the Ukrainian people, to work on Minsk for five years. I won’t do it,” he said, adding there were “two or three plans” of what to do after walking away from talks, but declining to elaborate.

Any guess what are these “two or three plans”?
 
Ukraine strong man.

Zelenskiy gave a deadline of a year from December’s first summit with Putin to find a breakthrough. “I won’t give my five years, which were given to me by the Ukrainian people, to work on Minsk for five years. I won’t do it,” he said, adding there were “two or three plans” of what to do after walking away from talks, but declining to elaborate.

Any guess what are these “two or three plans”?

The current president of Ukraine is a good man, but this is not a primary qualification for the job. He is also not well educated and is quite naive. His team is also quite weak. In short, no idea. However, SBU going back to Poroshenko days was pushing an idea of complete separation from territories occupied by Russia. Build a real wall and a border, not like Transnystria situation and more like Cyprus. Cessation of all interactions with the occupied parts of Donbas region, no transportation links, no commerce, and most importantly a complete stop to all kinds of payments to the residents who wish to remain on occupied territories.
 
On The Front Line In Ukraine, Soldiers Brace To Fight A Silent, Deadly Enemy

Ukraine’s war-weary soldiers have fought a grinding trench war against Russia-backed forces for six years. By now, said Bohdan Petryk, a soldier in the 128th Mountain Assault Brigade based near the eastern city of Volnovakha, they know their enemy’s tricks, they can sense when an assault is coming, and they know how to defend themselves.

But now there is a new foe taking aim at them -- and with this one, there is nothing to signal a looming attack. There is no rustling of the grass in no-man’s-land, no trip wire to catch its advance.

The deadly coronavirus that is sweeping the globe makes no sound, and no bulletproof helmet or vest can protect the soldiers from it.

Ukrainian soldiers’ best defenses against the microscopic yet deadly enemy are the same as everyone else: face masks and gloves, hand sanitizer, soap and water, and physical distancing. All of which is difficult to do in the cramped trenches and dugouts along the still-active front line.

Nationwide, as of April 9, Ukraine had recorded 1,892 cases of COVID-19, the disease caused by the novel coronavirus, 57 of which were fatal. As of April 9, four COVID-19 cases had been reported among the armed forces, one of which was fatal, according to the Defense Ministry.

The victim, a woman working at a military base in the western city of Ivano-Frankivsk, died far from the front line.
Nevertheless, it is possible she may have infected other personnel who could, in turn, infect others. If it reaches the front line, soldiers fear the coronavirus could spread through the trenches like wildfire.

Stricter Measures In The War Zone
To try to prevent that from happening, Ukraine’s Joint Forces Operation (JFO), as the military action in the east is officially called, announced on April 7, a day after the woman’s death, that it was imposing stricter health measures and preparing for a potential surge in coronavirus cases in the war zone, where personal hygiene standards are low and social distancing is difficult, if not impossible.

The JFO said in statement that the temperature of all personnel will now be checked daily, as will that of every person passing through checkpoints in the war zone. Military vehicles and installations will be disinfected regularly, and personnel will receive training on how to keep their quarters clean.

The JFO said it had deployed four mobile hospitals with a total of about 250 beds for potential coronavirus patients, as well as 45 ventilators. It also said that about 40,000 medical masks had been issued to active-duty soldiers and more than 10,000 respirators had been stockpiled for them.
At the moment, Petryk said, “We aren’t required to wear masks at our frontline positions, just like people aren’t required to wear them at home.
“Masks are being worn first and foremost by those servicemen who are in constant contact with the local population,” he said, meaning those manning the several checkpoints and conducting patrols in areas where civilians remain.

Personal protective equipment (PPE) is also being given to all members of the State Border Guard Service, National Guard, National Police, and military law enforcement units deployed in eastern Ukraine, the JFO said.
 
TAKING THE TRAIN TO WAR: A US AIR FORCE SPECIAL OPERATIONS PILOT REMEMBERS A TANK BATTLE IN UKRAINE

I ordered beer after beer and as the alcohol caught up I felt like the world was closing in on my thoughts, blocking out everything except for the storm of steel. From my elevated perch I looked across rows of city lights within which half a million people were nervously hunkered down in their homes, not knowing if they would wake up the next morning to the sound of Russian tank treads clanking down the street. I found myself thinking about the same possibility, realizing, quite suddenly and soberly, that I had no idea what to do in such a situation.

As I watched the far-off battle, I found myself retreating into comfortable, old habits from Iraq and Afghanistan, trying to re-create that illusion of safety I had felt behind the fortifications at bases like Bagram and Balad. But those old habit patterns didn’t apply to the war in Ukraine. The enemy was at the gates and I was in danger. There were no American drones orbiting overhead to keep watch — only Russian drones choosing their next artillery target. No Phalanx close-in weapons system to sound an air raid alarm when an artillery shell or rocket was incoming. No, this was different. This was war by someone else’s rules, and I was in its path. I was in danger. And I felt scared.

We took off down the dark, sparsely lit streets. There was hardly another car on the road. No one was out walking tonight, and I spotted only stray dogs as we zipped along, descending back to town. With the radio off and in the darkness, I was attuned to the hum of the wheels, the minute creaks of the suspension and the sound of Vasiliy pressing the pedals as he shifted gears. Noticing details that might be lost in the day and light, my mind was made alert to subtle audible clues by the night and my knowledge of what was coming.

If the Russians come, they may ask questions about your passport.”

“I plan on leaving before it comes to that.”

“Yes, but when it happens, it will happen quickly. You should be ready to go.”

“I understand.”


Sept. 5, 2014 — it seemed that all was lost. The combined Russian-separatist army was poised to break through the Ukrainian lines and overrun the city. People were packing as much as they could into their cars and fleeing. Restaurants were shut down. The streets grew empty.

But the invasion of Mariupol never happened. As if ripped straight from the pages of All Quiet on the Western Front, the sounds of war went silent. A cease-fire had been signed.

Passing drivers honked their horns. People cheered in celebration and strangers hugged one another. Hotels swelled with wedding parties, following through on celebrations put off for weeks by the fighting. It was like New Year’s Eve times a million.

The Ukrainians had held their ground. In Minsk, Belarus — more than 700 miles north of Mariupol — Russian and Ukrainian envoys had struck a cease-fire deal. Then, in an instant, the two armies stopped shooting at each other.

The absurdity of war.

After the fighting had stopped, Vasiliy and I toured the still smoldering battlefields outside of Mariupol. We started just beyond the Ukrainian checkpoints. The charred ruins of tanks, armored personnel carriers, and men dotted the rolling green fields where yellow and purple flowers were in bloom.

The first were only a mile or so beyond the Ukrainian lines. We saw them in the tree line at the edge of a field.

Some of them were ripped apart like used firecrackers. Charred, burnt, and twisted. Others frozen in the way they had died like plaster molds of bodies buried by ash in Pompeii, revealing the terror of the moment and the motion of their deaths in static poses no artist could imitate.
 
TAKING THE TRAIN TO WAR: A US AIR FORCE SPECIAL OPERATIONS PILOT REMEMBERS A TANK BATTLE IN UKRAINE

I ordered beer after beer and as the alcohol caught up I felt like the world was closing in on my thoughts, blocking out everything except for the storm of steel. From my elevated perch I looked across rows of city lights within which half a million people were nervously hunkered down in their homes, not knowing if they would wake up the next morning to the sound of Russian tank treads clanking down the street. I found myself thinking about the same possibility, realizing, quite suddenly and soberly, that I had no idea what to do in such a situation.

As I watched the far-off battle, I found myself retreating into comfortable, old habits from Iraq and Afghanistan, trying to re-create that illusion of safety I had felt behind the fortifications at bases like Bagram and Balad. But those old habit patterns didn’t apply to the war in Ukraine. The enemy was at the gates and I was in danger. There were no American drones orbiting overhead to keep watch — only Russian drones choosing their next artillery target. No Phalanx close-in weapons system to sound an air raid alarm when an artillery shell or rocket was incoming. No, this was different. This was war by someone else’s rules, and I was in its path. I was in danger. And I felt scared.

We took off down the dark, sparsely lit streets. There was hardly another car on the road. No one was out walking tonight, and I spotted only stray dogs as we zipped along, descending back to town. With the radio off and in the darkness, I was attuned to the hum of the wheels, the minute creaks of the suspension and the sound of Vasiliy pressing the pedals as he shifted gears. Noticing details that might be lost in the day and light, my mind was made alert to subtle audible clues by the night and my knowledge of what was coming.

If the Russians come, they may ask questions about your passport.”

“I plan on leaving before it comes to that.”

“Yes, but when it happens, it will happen quickly. You should be ready to go.”

“I understand.”


Sept. 5, 2014 — it seemed that all was lost. The combined Russian-separatist army was poised to break through the Ukrainian lines and overrun the city. People were packing as much as they could into their cars and fleeing. Restaurants were shut down. The streets grew empty.

But the invasion of Mariupol never happened. As if ripped straight from the pages of All Quiet on the Western Front, the sounds of war went silent. A cease-fire had been signed.

Passing drivers honked their horns. People cheered in celebration and strangers hugged one another. Hotels swelled with wedding parties, following through on celebrations put off for weeks by the fighting. It was like New Year’s Eve times a million.

The Ukrainians had held their ground. In Minsk, Belarus — more than 700 miles north of Mariupol — Russian and Ukrainian envoys had struck a cease-fire deal. Then, in an instant, the two armies stopped shooting at each other.

The absurdity of war.

After the fighting had stopped, Vasiliy and I toured the still smoldering battlefields outside of Mariupol. We started just beyond the Ukrainian checkpoints. The charred ruins of tanks, armored personnel carriers, and men dotted the rolling green fields where yellow and purple flowers were in bloom.

The first were only a mile or so beyond the Ukrainian lines. We saw them in the tree line at the edge of a field.

Some of them were ripped apart like used firecrackers. Charred, burnt, and twisted. Others frozen in the way they had died like plaster molds of bodies buried by ash in Pompeii, revealing the terror of the moment and the motion of their deaths in static poses no artist could imitate.
berkut any information about Vietnamese Ukrainian fighting in this civil war ? I heard a lot of Vietnamese Ukraine are being call to serve but not much info about if any die or they war stories , do they get send to frontline or keep behind , Vietnamese who live in east Ukraine side ( or the territory control by pro Russian force seem to stay neutral and not force to join the military force there and I haven't seen Vietnamese Ukraine serve with pro Russian force )
 

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