‘What choice do we have?’: no end in sight for Ukraine’s war-weary frontline troops | Ukraine

Bohdan and Ivan hid for almost the entirety of their 62-day mission on the front line west of Pokrovske – first in a village shop, then in a small basement housing infantry from Ukraine after a deadly clash with Russian soldiers. The 31st Brigade had to survive for another seven weeks.

Food, water, cigarettes and other supplies were airlifted by a friendly drone, their toilets were in 3 square meter rooms, and their closest companions were about 200 meters away. Their only hope was to stay underground because they knew that if they were detected, a Russian drone could kill them all.

Although the war in Ukraine is described as a war of remote-controlled ships, the role of infantry is easily forgotten. The task of Ukrainian ground troops along most of the front is to quietly hold positions as danger approaches. “I can’t sleep properly right now,” says Bohdan, the more talkative of the two. “Too quiet for me.”

When the infantry departed for the front in late September, diplomatic efforts to end the nearly four-year war following the Alaska summit appeared to falter. But by the time the crew returned from southeast Dnipropetrovsk region at the end of November, a new Russia-US peace plan had emerged.

Surrender the entire Donetsk province just east of the troops’ positions, cede occupied territory to Russia, permanently abandon joining NATO, and only then will Moscow be willing to consider peace, he said. In fact, this was a demand for surrender. Ukraine objected. However, the plan, which was revised with the contributions of Ukraine, was later deemed “unacceptable” by Russia.

If Ukraine continues to fight, foot soldiers like 41-year-old Bohdan, who laid thermal insulation before volunteering in 2022, and 45-year-old mechanic Ivan, who joined in July, will have to risk their lives and resist for a while longer.

“Of course, no one wants the war to continue because there have been too many sacrifices, too many sacrifices. But at the same time, we don’t want to give up, we don’t want to give up our land, because we don’t want these sacrifices to go in vain,” says Bohdan, his hands and uniform still covered in dirt.

It’s a familiar feeling throughout the unit. “You want me to be honest?” said Andriy, a 31-year-old sergeant in charge of drone operations at the unit’s command post, when asked about Ukraine giving up land for peace. he replies and adds: “This is complete nonsense.” A group of comrades who had been listening silently burst into laughter in agreement.

But despite the defiance of Bohdan and many other soldiers like him, there are tensions elsewhere. A Ukrainian military psychologist said that in addition to those killed or injured, 3% to 5% of those returning from front-line duties needed further examination or treatment. Bohdan and Ivan were being monitored to ensure they were sent back to the front.

A record 21,602 members of the Ukrainian army left without permission in October. A common complaint throughout the military is the lack of reserves, meaning there is a shortage of troops available for rotation. Long deployments at the front are common. Last month, it was revealed that Serhiy Tyshchenko, a platoon medic from the 30th Brigade, spent 471 days in a single combat position in Donetsk province.

Bohdan and Ivan did not expect to stay on the front lines for so long. “I told my wife I would be there for two weeks,” says Bohdan, a father of five. “He was calling everyone here, almost eating their brains, and asking them why it was taking so long?” But the soldiers did not know their families’ concerns.

While front-line drone crews can access the internet and make video calls to their families via Starlink, infantrymen do not have that option. They can send radio messages home, but family members are not allowed to send messages in return.

The ubiquity of drones, whose feeds can be seen at command posts far behind the front lines, has fundamentally changed Russian tactics. Armored assaults, common in 2023, have long been abandoned due to the destruction of large numbers of Russian tanks.

It was replaced by a constant search of scattered Ukrainian positions to find weak points or weaker brigades; this could be followed by more serious attacks, such as the one east of Huliaipole in the southwestern province of Zaporizhzhia, where nearly six miles of territory was lost last month.

Ruslan, a battalion commander in the 31st Brigade, said the Russians were “infiltrating in groups of two or three” to avoid detection by drones in the “kill zone” about 15 km (9 miles) on either side of the front. Some rely on thermal hoods of varying quality to avoid detection by heat-seeking cameras that so clearly mark a human body in white on black.

“There is a 95% chance of them being killed if we see them,” the commander says, but admits that worsening weather conditions (fog or heavy rain) mean it has become easier for the Russians to gather numbers behind the front lines to attack and expose the defenders’ positions.

For Ivan and Bohdan, a moment of danger suddenly came at 7 a.m. one morning when three Russians stumbled near their location, appearing “across the road 10, 15 meters away.” The Ukrainians responded immediately, killing two men, but the survivor managed to launch drone strikes on their positions before being killed by a Ukrainian drone.

The infantry dispersed. After a while, they regrouped in the basement and isolated themselves while US envoy Steve Witkoff courted the Kremlin with phone calls offering Ukrainian territory. At one point a Russian Baba Yaga drone bombed the entrance, half blocking it with rubble. “We thought he would come back. If we had built two more mines, we would have been finished,” Bohdan recalls.

No further attack followed, so the soldiers concluded it was a speculative attack, but it became difficult to go out and retrieve supplies falling from above. Among the recovered equipment was a new pair of boots for Bohdan, but they were two sizes too big for him.

The most terrifying thing was the return journey. The journey to safety was a 10-15 km walk; drones made traveling by any vehicle very dangerous and were an easy target in the open countryside. A relief team had arrived, but it was too dangerous to leave for three days.

When the moment came, the trio was given only 10 minutes’ notice. The moment was perfect because visibility had deteriorated at the top: “It was rainy and foggy,” says Bohdan. Even so, it took three days to return – “we weren’t moving at night,” the men explain, hiding in tree lines in the dark to avoid thermal vision drones.

Finally it was possible to get them. But even then there was one last moment of drama. “As we were driving, we saw another car hit by the drone. So there was no moment of relief then,” says Bohdan. They now feel a little more relaxed in the calm of the back and are ready to return “in a week at the most” if necessary.

Are they ready to risk their lives on another 62-day mission? “What choice do we have?” Bohdan added that after all this struggle, there is no reason for Ukraine to accept a bad deal. “We have a saying in Ukraine: If you leave the cat under the table, it appears on the table. The same goes for Putin.”