Ukraine‘s foot soldiers face greater pressure as Russia intensifies offensive operations against Donetsk Oblast, and mobilization struggles to replace the losses at home.
Editor’s Note: In accordance to the security protocols of Ukraine’s military, the soldiers featured in this article are identified only by their first names and callsigns.
DONETSK OBLAST- The road was barely visible when the headlights of the old pickup truck were turned off.
The crescent moon that hangs over this part Donetsk Oblast doesn’t illuminate the mangled tracks that lead to zero line.
The driver, who has just turned on his truck’s electronic war device, carefully navigates in the darkness, listening to the sound of worn, bent brake disks rubbing against the wheel.
Then the transfer: “Wish you well” (Ukrainian salute) was exchanged with the soldiers waiting on their way to the shift switch, and backpacks and rifles were thrown into the back of a truck.
A short, brisk stroll begins along a row of burnt out, dead trees decorated with faded summer foliage.
The entrance to the positions is marked by a weak, red headlamp. It leads to a long, earthen walkway with wooden planks along each side.
The path descends underground at the end of the walk. Camouflage nets appear above.
No man’s Land is the phrase that has been used since World War I to describe the gray area between warring parties, where any movement can make you a target.
Russian soldiers are positioned in positions that look very similar and are only 150 meters away, on uneven ground.
These positions protect the northern flank of Toretsk. The mining city spent most of Russia’s full-scale conflict in relative calm, despite its proximity to the front line.
The sector is manned and operated by Ukraine’s 28th Mechanized Brigade. This unit, which played a major role in the liberation Kherson, was stationed at this location for more than a year-and-a-half.
After defending the southern flanks of Bakhmut and taking part in limited counteroffensives last summer, the brigade settled down into a stable defensive as Russia focused their efforts elsewhere.
The winds have begun to change over the past month.
Although the blocked U.S. military assistance has begun to arrive in Ukraine, and Russian forces have been stopped in their tracks at Kharkiv Oblast. Moscow has continued to push forward in Donetsk Oblast in order to capitalize on Kyiv’s ongoing manpower problems.
In late June, Russian forces took advantage of a botched rotation by two Ukrainian brigades to surge forward outside Toretsk, beginning a brand new offensive which quickly overran defensive line that had held firm since the fighting began in this area in 2014.
After two and a half year of Russia’s full scale invasion, the face and the lives of Ukraine’s footsoldiers, who faced the greatest danger and suffered the most casualties over time, have changed dramatically.
The men who occupy this position alone represent a diverse group of Ukrainian infantry today: former contract soldiers from Donbas who fought before 2022, those who were sent to the infantry for punishment, those who signed up after Russian occupation, and those who simply mobilized.
In a world of terrifying new weapons of warfare, it is the people who have lived in trenches or dugouts for months that are the backbone of the nation’s defense.
“I saw them. I saw them. They showed themselves!”
Oleksandr “Tsyrkul”, 39, potters around his position with an almost childlike enthusiasm as the sky slowly becomes lighter.
When viewed through the thermal scope’s bright green, a bright white spot can be seen behind a slag pile. From this point, rounds are seen shooting up into the air from a low angle.
Even though he’s happy to have found the enemy, he doesn’t know what the little white dot represents. Drones’ limited vision at dawn makes it difficult to target anything.
Tsyrkul’s hunched over, short, lean figure and oversized helmet, which he wore when drafted from a village in Vinnytsia a year earlier, are a stark reminder of the fact that the average Ukrainian soldier does not look like the super soldier portrayed on recruitment posters.
The bulk of the Ukrainian Army is now composed of men mobilized from rural areas such as Tsyrkul.
Tsyrkul’s voice is a mixture of sarcastic remarks and somber reflections, alternating between beaming smiles and long, distant looks.
“I think that the war will end by 2025 or maybe 2026. Then things will be a little easier,” said the man, fidgeting with the muzzle on his rifle.
“But even then, I don’t believe I will go straight home.” If we all leave, they will come after us. Someone needs to stay.
“Infantry, a day can last up to six months, and six months in a single day,” says Yevhen the press officer of the 28th Brigade as the sun’s first rays begin to penetrate the trench.
The infantry in Ukraine has felt the heat the most during July 2024.
The soldiers are fortunate this time as a cool breeze blows straight through the main trench despite the rising temperatures.
The firing points are located on the edge of the position, making it easy for soldiers to monitor the movements of their enemies.
One of the positions is equipped with a modern machine gun that has a remote electronic aiming system.
The camouflage nets are visibly charred: only two days ago, Grad multiple rocket launcher fire had been targeted at the position, causing a mess in the trenches that needed to be addressed quickly.
Seven infantrymen are responsible for the position. Officially, the sentry duty is rotated every three hours.
Most people will try to sleep more when they can, but when awake, they will mill around, drinking coffee and using their phones.
Since last year when they moved here, this is their permanent home. Rain, hail or shine, each man leaves his trenches only one day a fortnight to shower and buy supplies.
This area has been quieter than other parts of the frontline for most of the past year. This is mainly because of the Siversky Donets-Donbas Canal, which runs between the two sides and acts as a natural barrier against progress.
The same waterway that Ukrainian forces used to retreat to last month is now vital to the defense of Chasiv Yar.
Oleksandr “Dynia” (40 years old) said, “Of course they won’t get across the canal anytime soon. But we shoot each other anyway.”
The day is quiet, whether it’s because of the canal, the clear sky, or most likely, the extreme heat.
Mortar and howitzer shells are fired at regular intervals over the position, but nothing is too close to be comfortable.
Drones are the biggest immediate threat to infantry in such positions at this stage of the war, not artillery.
Both Ukraine and Russia have a similar fleet at the frontlines: a mix between fixed-wing reconnaissance aircraft, civilian quadcopters repurposed as bombing and surveillance drones, and thousands cheap suicide FPV drones (first-person-view).
Quadcopters are largely the same no matter who is flying them. However, as the soldiers point out, a drone flying parallel with Ukrainian trenches can be a clear indication that the pilot is Russian and searching for a specific target.
“You get used it all,” said Dynia. “Sometimes you can hear when it’s coming at you, other times the sky just says hi.”
When talking to any infantryman, the name Netailove is always mentioned.
The small village of Netailove, located 50 kilometers southwest, is in a totally different sector of front line, just outside of the destroyed and occupied Avdiivka.
In the spring of 2010, their company was separated both from the rest its battalion as well as the 28th Brigade, and sent to stop the steady bleeding of territory that began in February after the fall Avdiivka and continues today.
The decision was made by Ukrainian commanders of higher rank, whom the soldiers mockingly refer to as “geniuses.” It was emblematic for a systematic tendency of splitting brigades and micromanaging down to the company-level that has become a common complaint among soldiers and analysts.
The company (usually 100 people at full strength, but in reality often only a few dozen), which was caught under heavy bombardment, suffered heavy losses. Four of its members were killed and more than a dozen were wounded.
Tsyrkul, at his firing position, pondered “I didn’t enjoy quiet days before because I hadn’t yet seen death.” “But now that I’ve seen it (in Netailove), quiet is better than loud.”
“I’m not kidding …”, I often feel like sleeping in my armor and helmet since then.” He paused. “I usually joke, but not this one.”
The Ukrainian army is still struggling with a severe lack of infantrymen. As a result, the higher command has been scrutinized for how they use the manpower available.
The men here know that when mistakes are made, or resources are misused, it costs lives of Ukrainian infantry.
Dynia recalled his time in Netailove with a pause, “… those of us who were left. Some of the men stayed there and didn’t move… they were all warriors, good guys.
Dynia is a Kirovohrad native, who grew up in the middle of the country. Her son, aged 19, was born when the war had already started.
What can I tell him? Dynia said about their relationship during the war, “He is young and has his own life going on.”
“We don’t talk very much… it would be nice to talk more often.” I’ll do everything I can to make sure he doesn’t end up in this situation himself.
Early afternoon, Tsyrkul and Mykola “Koks” work together on their ongoing DIY project – a new dugout to be used for their position.
Three days earlier, a Russian drone attack targeted their previous underground shelter and set it ablaze, burning it and collapsing from the inside.
It is more important than ever to have a place where you can shelter from sustained artillery and drone drops. You must not waste time in starting over.
The two men stripped down to their torsos and installed new wooden flooring that was crudely cut with a chainsaw.
Koks said, “This is going to be the last wood we have here.” It’s impossible to deliver it to zero anymore, it’s just too obvious.
Koks is a 42-year old native of Zhytomyr, with a balding head and a long beard in the style of a biker. He has spent the entire war in this area of Donetsk Oblast.
After a violent conflict with his superiors, he was transferred to the infantry as punishment a year earlier.
“People say that infantry is bad but I prefer it to be here,” he said. “The command in this brigade works well, we understand them, and they seem understand us.”
“Here you don’t feel like you are being used, but you feel that you are being treated like a human.”
Koks’ experience and his firm communication style made him the perfect candidate for this position.
“It’s good, I like it.” He said that even though they were killing us, …” was still the best option.
“When you share the last piece of bread, or the last drop of water, at the positions, because they cannot resupply, when you are in the middle hell, you realize who your real brothers, who the true men are. The real men here are the ones who are there.”
As the clock approaches 10 pm and the sun is dipping into the horizon, it’s time to leave. It’s also the turn of rifleman Ihor, “Fartovyi,” (Lucky), who is taking a day off.
The soldiers have to walk about three kilometers to reach safety. Other infantrymen rotating from nearby positions join the group on the way.
The roadside is littered with twisted carcasses of civilian vehicles, all destroyed by FPV-drones. This is a testament that mobility on the front line has changed dramatically.
A wall of dark smoke is rising from behind a large slag pile to the south.
The village of Druzhba is where, just five kilometers from these trenches are Russian forces actively attacking Ukrainian lines. Losing territory could leave the infantry on the 28th exposed to their right flank.
Oleksandr Chermet, a 40-year-old company leader, watches the reconnaissance feed of his sector, where drones equipped with thermal cameras are taking over the night shift.
“Recently, there has been a change in the nature of the fighting, we can now see an escalation,” the commander said, referring to activation of Toretsk’s front line.
“The enemy has begun to conduct attacks and is trying to advance in our vicinity. We can also see them preparing themselves.”
The soldiers are finally given work as the night falls. Chermet orders the remote control machine gun fire short bursts at a dugout that was seen to be moving.
The soldiers send back videos taken by the scope of the gun; the sound of the automated, intermittent bursts is almost peaceful in the dugout’s silence.
Chermet’s words show his concern and care for the men he is responsible for.
With that care, comes the need to stay grounded in the painful realities of this war and the understanding that there is currently no immediate solution.
“You can see they are a little tired, physically and mentally, but we can’t retreat,” he said.
Everyone understands this and they do everything to stop the enemy from going further.
Here, the commander’s remarks echoed the words of Tsyrkul who had stayed overnight at zero:
“It’s really scary here, to be honest. Especially when they tell you they could attack very soon,” he said as he looked up at the evening skies.
“For the moment we are holding and after that… well after that, I guess we will continue holding for as long we are alive.”
Note from the Author:
Hello, I’m Francis Farrell. Thanks for reading this article. I hope the news that Russia is making gains on the front lines hasn’t surprised you. The situation is deteriorating quickly and not in a way we would have liked. However, we will continue to represent Ukraine to the world no matter how dangerous or dark the war becomes. Please consider supporting our reporting.
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