"Everyone supporting infantry must work for infantry" – fighter Serhii Vyhliadovskyi
Staff Sergeant Serhii Vyhliadovskyi (44 years old, call sign Vyhlia) from Zhytomyr is a fighter of the 115th TDF (Territorial Defense Forces) Brigade. Over his intermittent yet intense combat career, he has repelled multiple enemy infantry assaults, endured several shellings, a Russian gas attack, and sustained three wounds. However, perhaps his most distinctive trait is his unwavering commitment to his sergeant work and his ability to build a combat team.
Censor.NET interviewed Serhii about his inner strength, his journey in the infantry, and his plans for further development.
DURING THE YEAR WE WERE IN THE REAR, WE LOST TIME BECAUSE WE WERE NOT TRAINED
– I propose to start with your beginnings in the army - to understand the combat path.
– On 25 February 2022, my friends and I were enlisted in a newly formed rifle company of the 115th TDF Brigade. Along with weapons and uniforms, I was given the rank (junior sergeant) and appointed as a squad leader, which I attribute to my conscription service back in 1998.
Our platoon's first combat mission was to strengthen the security and defense of a tank plant. We provided round-the-clock perimeter security to prevent possible provocations or sabotage that could have led to a production halt. That’s where we first felt hits—FABs hit one of the workshops, but fortunately, all of our personnel were unharmed. It was unforgettable and quite terrifying. After a month on guard duty, we were ordered to relocate closer to the Belarusian border, to the Ovruch district. We settled in the forest, moved into dugouts, and set up a checkpoint on the road running through our area of responsibility. We organized a 24-hour duty rotation to guard and defend our platoon’s location, while also managing access control. We spent a year serving there.
– How did your training go? Were you being prepared to repel an attack from Belarus, or for a possible deployment to the east?
– We had some basic tactical exercises, and occasionally we conducted range firing. Now I realize that these exercises were insufficient. They could have spent more time on our training during the whole year. That's why it's hard for me to understand what exactly we were being prepared for.
– How did you think the border was fortified at the time and were they seriously preparing for an attack from Belarus?
– From communicating with neighboring units, I concluded that there was a significant presence of our forces in the area—special forces, raiding detachments, border guards, and our entire brigade (up to 5 battalions), with AFU brigades also reinforcing this direction. We were actively conducting reconnaissance, tracking the movement of enemy equipment and infantry across the border.
It was in this area that the 95th and 30th Brigades drove out the enemy, who had occupied several villages in 2022. This direction became a priority, as far as I understand. However, we, the TDF units, were not militarily fit at that time (lacking training and proper weaponry) to mount an effective resistance.
While other Ukrainian soldiers were fighting on the zero lines, buying us time to prepare, our leadership did not show much interest in our training, stressing self-preparation instead. I consider that year a lost opportunity.
– How did you end up going to the front? Was your deployment planned in advance?
– Our company commander offered anyone willing to transfer to the 139th Battalion, the only unit from our brigade actively engaged in combat (at the time), which had suffered casualties and needed reinforcements. Twenty soldiers from our company took up the offer. So, by May 2023, we were already in the Kupiansk direction, having joined the 139th Battalion, where I still serve (it was then under the command of the 92nd Brigade).
I was very pleased that we were in a battalion that had already gained combat experience, established service, and confidently held positions in a certain area of the frontline. Among the positive aspects, I would also like to note the wise decision of the leadership in assigning new recruits to combat duty. The shift at the observation post (OP) consisted of 50% new recruits and 50% experienced soldiers. This helped us understand the specifics of service in this area and prevent unnecessary losses.
Our service consisted of shift duty at the OPs: observing the movement of enemy infantry, preventing the breakthrough of the defense line, and holding positions.
In reality, we were positioned in a forest plantation where the enemy was firmly entrenched 200-250 meters away across the railway line. It was in the area between the villages of Berestove and Novoselivske.
– Have you been watching the ground and enemy drones attacked you?
– Yes, the Mavic scout drones were looking for our positions, sometimes making payload drops, and more often adjusting mortars, artillery, and tanks at our OPs.
– How did you deal with this back in 2023?
– Experienced guys explained to us that if you hear the sound of a Mavic, you need to stop all movements and stay in shelters. Report on the walkie-talkie about the detection of the reconnaissance drone and indicate the direction of its movement so that others can take cover. Under no circumstances should you shoot at the drone. It immediately reveals the position, and then they start targeting the position with all the weapons they have. However, during the training we took in the 141st Battalion in Zhytomyr region, there was even a drone shooting down exercise. This is yet another confirmation that training should be carried out by competent and experienced people.
The battalion also had an anti-drone rifle, but only one, which often overheated from a large number of targets. But the rifle was there and did some work.
MY FIRST CONTACT WITH THE ENEMY WAS DEFENDING AGAINST A PROLONGED ASSAULT. WE SUCCEEDED, WE DID IT.
– Do you remember your impressions of your first real battle?
– Having spent a year in the rear, while many were listening to Arestovych saying, "just one more week and it will be over," I was deeply worried that I wouldn’t have time to make even a minimal contribution to victory. So when I got the opportunity to go to the front line, I took it. I transferred to a combat unit—it was crucial for me to feel that I was needed in destroying the enemy. During my first close engagement, I felt overwhelming fear and panic, but as the battle went on, a rush of excitement took over.
– Excitement? Do you mean a sense of pride or satisfaction with the outcome?
– It was already June 2023. Our positions had moved slightly forward after the 92nd Brigade retook 400 meters of territory. We had crossed the railway line where we had previously been positioned. Even President Zelenskyy mentioned this in his address. Our company commander gathered us for a briefing and informed us that we had to cross the railway, relieve the 92nd Brigade’s troops, secure a foothold in the forest plantation, and continue fortifying our positions. We were to deploy for one (1) day, carrying as much ammunition (as we could manage to carry out) —RPG-7s, rounds, PKMs with breech casings, GP-25s, and half a sack of VOG grenades.
It was hard, but as we later realized, it was the easiest part of what lay ahead. We arrived at the position of "The Italian"—the call sign of a soldier from the 92nd Brigade who was the senior member of our group. At around 04:30 a.m. in the morning, we began taking up firing positions. These were shallow holes for one or two soldiers, some covered with thin branches (for camouflage). My position was like a rectangular pit about 1.5x1 meters and up to 1 meter deep. After laying out my gear and preparing RPG-7 rounds, I started digging quickly, deepening my position. The rest of the group also tried to set up at least minimal cover. By 06:00 a.m., heavy shelling of our positions began—intense mortar fire, followed by SPG, and even a tank joined in. There was no way to continue fortifying. Each time I heard an incoming round, I dropped to my knees, lowering my head as much as possible to hide from shrapnel.
After another hit, I heard: "I'm WIA (wounded in action), right arm and right leg." The voice came from the first position to my left. I asked, "Can you apply a tourniquet?" The response was "No." I made a split-second decision—ran to Vadym, applied tourniquets, and quickly returned to my position. I kept talking to wounded, maintaining voice contact. When the shelling eased, I ran back to Vadym— packed the wound in his thigh and wrapped the severed fingers on his hand. That was my first experience providing first aid in combat. Experiences like this teach you exactly what needs to be improved in training. After reporting the casualty to command, the decision was made to evacuate Vadym.
Fortunately, the wounded was able to move on his own, though Vadym needed some help crossing the railway tracks. From post to post, he made his way to the evacuation vehicle. I was relieved that we managed to get wounded out—his condition was deteriorating fast, and without evacuation, it could have become critical or even worse...
I returned to my position. The massive shelling had ended, and we resumed observing and fortifying. At one point, I lifted my head from my shallow cover and saw a group of silhouettes on the left flank moving toward us along the forest plantation. My first thought was that command had sent reinforcements but forgot to notify us. That changed the moment I clearly saw the red tape on their helmets and heard an enemy voice: "Come on, move in!" They were so close they were about to enter our positions. I dropped to the bottom of my pit, overwhelmed by despair, thinking it was over—that we had no chance. Fear and panic started creeping in until I heard the first burst of automatic fire from my godfather's position on the far left. I fired my first shots blindly, barely exposing my rifle from cover. A firefight broke out. Every one of our positions unleashed a barrage of gunfire at the enemy. The b#stards didn’t expect such resistance and began to scatter. I reported over the walkie-talkie that we were assaulted. Command assured us that they would provide all available support. But without waiting, I decided to fire an RPG-7. I loaded a fragmentation round and aimed at a minimal "orcs concentration". It was my first time ever firing an RPG—and it went well. Thrill of the race appeared. I spotted b#stard in my sights—pulled the trigger—his body dropped. I noticed movement in the bushes, tossed a grenade, and the movement stopped. Our AGS opened up, then mortars and SPG joined in. The 92nd Brigade executed several precise drone drops from a Mavic and even deployed an IFV, which wiped out orcs with suppressive fire. Then we heard over the walkie-talkie—b#stards had suffered heavy losses and started their evacuation. That’s when it hit us—we held the line, we made it!
– So, you managed to hold the position...
– That day—yes. But for the next two days, the enemy pounded our position with everything they had. The forest plantation was nearly wiped out. Parts of our trenches, once serving as cover, were buried under debris from explosions, the relentless and precise shelling didn’t stop—not even at night. Eventually, our unit was forced to withdraw. Unfortunately, not without losses. Two of our men remained at their positions (they are still listed as missing). And during the withdrawal, two wounded comrades-in-arms were hit by b#stards shell. They were the first losses among the guys I had started my service with.
– And why was it important to hold on to those positions rather than change stationing?
– The guys still ask me this question: "Why did we need that ‘Italian’ if we lost people there and still failed to hold the position?" I needed a clear explanation, so I went to the company commander. Most of us believed we were simply being thrown for slaughter. Others thought that since the president had mentioned our direction in his address, we had to hold the position at all costs, just so the higher-ups wouldn’t have to face the embarrassment of failure.
The commander explained the plan to me, and then I relayed it to my soldiers. At that location, the 92nd Brigade had pushed the enemy back, and we were tasked with holding the position while the 92nd flanked from the right to drive the b#stards out of the village. Once the flank was secured, our central point was supposed to advance again—allowing us to liberate even more ground. But the plan fell apart. The enemy was deeply entrenched, and the 92nd lost up to 20 men in a single day of assault. On top of that, the neighboring units on our left flank failed to launch their attack on time, which meant the enemy wasn’t forced to split their attention between two fronts. Yes, this is war. We had to follow the plan. That’s why I can’t say our losses were in vain. What’s crucial is how information is communicated to the troops. Leadership often hides behind "operational secrecy," deciding that soldiers don’t need to know the necessary information. A truthful attitude to the soldier encourages him to trust the leadership. Trust adds to the motivation to perform tasks well.
– Two of your close comrades were wounded at the positions and killed during the withdrawal. Can you share what was going through your mind and soul when you lost your soldiers for the first time?
– We found out about our losses in the afternoon, and by evening, we were preparing an evacuation group. My compadre and I received orders from the company commander: head to the ‘Italian’ position, locate two missing soldiers, provide aid, and evacuate them. Together with the rotation shift, we reached the area and moved along the forest plantation. The rotation group split off to their OPs, while my compadre and I pressed on toward "Italian." We were surprised when another evacuation team from the 2nd company caught up with us. Their task was to recover the bodies of our fallen brothers—those who had been wounded while withdrawing from "Italian." We continued forward as one group, approaching the site where our comrades had fallen.
The night was clear, and in the moonlight, I could make out a massive crater left by a heavy shell. Scattered around it lay four bodies. I immediately recognized two of my comrades, the ones I had started my service with—I couldn’t believe they were gone. I made my decision: I would stay and help evacuate the bodies before heading to the "Italian" position to search for the two other soldiers. I simply couldn’t just step over them and move on—I felt it was my duty. Besides my fallen comrades, there were two more—heroes who had lost their lives while trying to assist the wounded withdrawing from positions. A single enemy shell had taken four warriors. Four families were now waiting for the news of unimaginable grief...
I tried to keep my thoughts from wandering and focused on the task at hand. We placed the bodies on stretchers, first cutting off their bulletproof vests. The distance from the site to the point where evacuation vehicles could reach was approximately two kilometers. Everyone was exhausted—the stretchers slipped from our hands more than once. At times, out of carelessness, we stumbled into craters left by hits. It was grueling work—physically and, above all, emotionally. Physical fatigue fades quickly, but the weight on the soul lingers, probably forever. Every memory brings sorrow and tears to the eyes.
I take solace in knowing that this work is crucial. The fallen heroes must be brought home so that their sacrifice in defense of our Motherland can be honored. It is also meant to ease, if only slightly, the immeasurable grief of their families. That night, my compadre and I never made it to the "Italian" position. The exhaustion and the fact that dawn was breaking forced me to make a difficult decision—to turn back without completing the mission. The next night, we made another attempt. Before crossing the railway tracks, we triggered a POM-2 anti-personnel fragmentation mine, taking a couple of shrapnel wounds—not serious enough to stop us from continuing. When we were almost at the "Italian" position, gunfire erupted in our direction. It was both terrifying and unexpected, as we had been told that neighboring units were supposed to be stationed nearby. We hit the ground, preparing to fight. But the voices coming from the position left no doubt—it was "b#stards." We reported the situation over the walkie-talkie and received the order to withdraw quietly, without drawing attention. That’s exactly what we did. Upon returning, we immediately went to the hospital to have the shrapnel removed. Our battalion was nearing the point of being combat ineffective—many of the wounded were unable to return to duty. There simply weren’t enough soldiers to maintain defensive positions along the entire sector. By the end of June, we received word that another battalion from our brigade was coming to relieve us.
WE DEPLOYED AS A BATTALION, BUT IN REALITY, ONLY ONE OF OUR COMPANIES WAS OPERATIONAL
– Then you ended up in the rear again. What did you do there?
– We were pulled back for recovery to the same positions in the Zhytomyr region where we had been before. I was sent for further training—to a platoon leader training extension course for rifle units. I arrived at a solid training center in the Kyiv region. There, I met about a hundred highly motivated guys who were eager to learn how to fight and win. That kind of atmosphere gives you an extra boost of motivation and reinforces the belief that we are on the right path and will definitely prevail.
I returned straight to my role as a platoon commander and was also promoted to the rank of senior sergeant. Since I don’t have a university degree, an officer’s rank was out of reach for me—but I never saw much need for it anyway. I felt proud and happy when, at the beginning, my platoon had as many as 22 soldiers. This motivated me to conduct full-scale training sessions for the entire platoon. It gave me hope that we could improve our combat effectiveness. However, we were part of the Territorial Defense Forces, and someone in the General Staff came up with an idea (one that was later admitted to being wrong) to transfer servicemen under 35 from the TDF to the regular Armed Forces, while those deemed only partially fit after being wounded, along with "brig rats," were reassigned from the Armed Forces to the TDF.
That's how a well-coordinated combat unit with battlefield experience was dismantled. Such decisions by senior command erode motivation and demoralize the team. Everyone who could leave the military due to health issues or other articles started doing so, while most of us lost faith in our unit’s ability to carry out combat missions. Some felt they had already made a sufficient contribution to Ukraine’s defense and no longer had the health or will to continue. Discipline issues became more frequent, often fueled by alcohol consumption. Full-scale training became impossible due to the physical condition and advanced age of many personnel. At some point, I realized I had to make a change—either adapt to the team or change my surroundings. So I started looking for motivated, combat-ready units, knowing that I could be of real use where I was needed. I passed an online interview and was accepted into the 3rd Separate Assault Brigade. At the time, transfers between units were only possible with the approval of the military unit’s commander. The battalion commander carefully listened to my reasoning but refused to authorize the transfer. However, we made a deal—if the battalion commander ever dismissed from service, he would sign my letter of request and make sure I didn’t get lost in this battalion. When I was refused to change the team, I started changing it. I combined regular training sessions with weekly trips to the shooting range. Our leadership organized complex training exercises, drawing from real combat experience.
– This work with people that you are talking about is in any case aimed at the effectiveness of soldiers on the battlefield. How did you achieve this?
– I always rely on the sergeant's motto: "Follow me, do as I do!" Only your own example motivates the team to complete tasks. Being honest with your subordinates, always being where your team is - this is how trust is built.
Our 3rd Rifle Company had only one squad of fully fit soldiers; the rest were classified as limited fit. Across the battalion’s three rifle companies, we couldn’t even form a single platoon of combat-ready troops. The FSC (fire support company) and mortar unit were also mostly composed of limited-fit personnel and significantly understaffed. The only unit that was nearly fully manned was the UAV platoon. With this composition, our battalion was deployed to the Donetsk region, specifically to the Vremivka direction, under the command of the 1st Tank Brigade.
Our company’s task was to establish a defensive system along the forward edge of the village of Makarivka, identify and fortify firing positions to delay the enemy in case Staromaiorske’s defenses were breached. This was considered the second line of defense. Our first rotations in Makarivka were relatively quiet—occasional sporadic shelling and occasional FPV drone attacks. This allowed us to work on fortifications and conduct additional reconnaissance of the village. However, the relative calm didn’t last long. The enemy realized that Makarivka was being reinforced, and the shelling became more frequent and precise. We spent most of the daylight hours sheltering in household cellars. At dusk, moving as discreetly as possible, we would go out to continue our work. The work would continue until the first incoming shelling. Most of the time, we remained in the cellars, minimizing exposure to avoid detection by Mavic scout drones, which could direct artillery fire onto our positions.
– So your mission was to prepare defensive positions. That meant it was already clear the frontline would shift and our troops would withdraw?
- That was the tendency. The village of Staromaiorske, located directly on the contact line, was so shattered that even intact cellars were nearly nonexistent. We saw this in the live streams (streaming video from Mavic) from our UAV (unmanned aerial vehicles) platoon. They assisted with both reconnaissance and assault operations in Staromaiorske. The 1st Tank Brigade, reinforced with additional units, was trying to hold the line. Some streets changed hands multiple times, but it was obvious that the frontline would soon shift to Makarivka.
In such intense battles, the combat effectiveness of the units defending Staromaiorske was rapidly decreasing. We understood that we would soon be sent there.
That’s almost exactly what happened—our 3rd Company, as the most combat-ready, was placed under the command of the 204th TDF Battalion. Our task was to conduct reconnaissance, hold the line, and fortify existing positions in the forest plantation known as "Mukachevo" and in the industrial zone where the forest plantation began. These positions were located between the villages of Makarivka and Staromaiorske. In fact, this was already the forward edge of the battle area, as the enemy in the village itself was being held back solely by artillery and strike UAVs.
A TANK FIRED AT US FREELY, UNDETECTED BY OUR RECONNAISSANCE.
- What was your overall impression of the Russians and their tactics? This wasn’t just blind assaults like in the Kharkiv region, was it?
- My first deployment to the "Mukachevo" position and the industrial zone made me realize how much the war had changed compared to my first rotation. At the 204th Battalion’s command and observation post (COP), we were given a detailed briefing. A route was plotted on a large terrain map, marking the locations of our positions—two OPs in the "Mukachevo" forest plantation and two in the industrial area. "Ded" (old man) and I were assigned to enter an industrial zone, with the additional task of picking up two foreign fighters in the village of Makarivka on the way to our position. The 204th Battalion had soldiers from the Foreign Legion under its command—Colombians, Americans… A Spaniard and a Pole were supposed to join us.
And so, we dismounted and began moving along the familiar road, reaching Makarivka, where we met with the foreign volunteer fighters. We decided to take a break in the cellar where we had recently been stationed. This gave us a chance to get to know each other better. The Spaniard didn’t understand Ukrainian at all (except for gestures), and only the Pole could communicate with him. However, Doc (the Pole’s call sign) spoke Ukrainian fluently. Doc told us that a day earlier, the two of them had been sent to the industrial zone on their own for the first time to relieve an American and a Briton at the "Canada" position. Naturally, they got lost—fortunately, only within Makarivka. This situation deeply unsettled and concerned me. After resting, we moved on. We successfully crossed the so-called "road of life"—a 700-meter stretch of open road from Makarivka to the "Mukachevo" forest plantation. By dawn, we reached the industrial zone and entered the "Canada" position, relieving the American and the Briton.
According to the plan, the Spaniard and the Pole were to remain at "Canada," while Ded and I were assigned to the "Cotta" position. Upon reaching it, we found a partially destroyed hangar-like structure—the large entrance gate was missing, two-thirds of the roof had collapsed inward, parts of the walls had been blown apart by explosions, and a strong stench of decay lingered from the body of a fallen Colombian soldier. After assessing all the factors, we decided to return to "Canada."
The "Canada" position was a former granary with a collapsed roof. We cleared paths through the rubble leading to the firing points. The main advantage of this position was a massive basement built from concrete blocks and reinforced with slab coverings. It had a separate entrance and a ladder leading to a hatch in the ceiling, which we used to access the firing positions. Two days of relative calm gave us time to get to know our foreign colleagues better. I learned from the Pole that his call sign, "Doc," wasn't related to medicine—Matvii (his real name) had a doctorate in literature and three university degrees. His grandfather was from Kyiv, and his grandmother was from Volyn. When I asked why he was here, Doc said he felt a personal obligation to be part of the fight against evil. He believed history was being made here and now, and he wanted to be involved. He compared this war to the early days of World War II, emphasizing that we could not allow history to repeat itself. I didn’t have much of a conversation with the Spaniard due to the translation problems. The only thing I gathered was that he had previously hunted drug cartels and maritime pirates, and he was here to gain combat experience.
– I assume that when you said the war had changed, you weren’t referring to meeting foreigners, but to the combat itself.
– At some point, we received a radio warning about approaching motorcyclists. We jumped up, took our positions, and observed. We listened to the radio carefully. The radio transmission confirmed—five motorcycle crews were moving across the field toward the "Mukachevo" forest plantation. There was tall grass in the field, our guys from the OP on the Mukachevo did not see the enemy yet. Our mortar crew opened fire, with several cluster rounds detonating in the area where the motorcyclists were likely to be. The enemy responded with several smoke rounds, blanketing the field in thick smoke. We concluded that their attempt to establish a foothold in the forest plantation had failed and the enemy had either retreated or evacuated under the cover of the smoke screen. This was a standard and predictable enemy tactic. The key to countering it was early detection, precise coordination between the Mavic scout drone, infantry on the ground, and mortar crews. Shortly after, the duty officer radioed in with a warning that a group of 3 to 5 bastards was moving in our direction, so we naturally heightened our alertness. A little later, we spotted an "orc" wandering into the industrial zone, moving cautiously from building to building, seemingly searching for something. We reported his presence and received the go-ahead to eliminate him. We opened fire. The "orc" immediately started maneuvering, looking for cover, and dove into a pit near a transformer. An FPV drone was dispatched and struck him there. Less than ten minutes later, two b#stards FPV drones targeted our firing positions. We all retreated into the basement, hoping to ride it out. The FPV drones then attempted to breach our shelter through the basement entrance. Fortunately, the entrance was blocked by metal frames, grates, and debris, forcing the defensive payload of the FPV drone to detonate prematurely. However, after each explosion, we had to reinforce the barricade again.
At the same time, an enemy tank opened fire on us. You can't mistake the sound of a tank firing for anything else—it has a very short interval between the shot and impact (the shell flies extremely fast) and a high rate of fire with short pauses between rounds. We were in a shelter, but the upper section of the basement was above ground—it was the building’s ground floor, and that’s exactly where the tank was targeting. Another FPV drone approached, but the engine sound was different from the previous ones, and for some reason, it hovered above us. Then we realized it was a Mavic, which had just dropped a gas cylinder. The gas spread quickly through the room, with white clouds accumulating under the ceiling. The guys started coughing. I dropped to my knees, as the lower layers of air were less contaminated, and slowly made my way to my backpack, remembering I had a gas mask. By the time I got it out, I felt a burning sensation on my face and hands, my eyes were filled with tears and sharp pain, and I couldn’t take a proper breath until I put the mask on. My comrades didn’t have gas masks, so they knelt near the entrance to the basement, trying to breathe cleaner air. It was fortunate that another FPV drone didn’t strike us at that moment. I grabbed a shovel and started clearing gaps in the wall between the concrete blocks, trying to increase the inflow of fresh air from outside. We also opened a hatch in the ceiling to help ventilate the gas out of the room.
Meanwhile, the tank continued shelling us. My reports did nothing to decrease the intensity of the fire. I provided the azimuth of the tank’s position, but that didn’t help locate its firing position. The duty officer responded that they couldn’t see the tank.
I knew from my friends in the UAV unit that there were no deep aerial reconnaissance assets in our area of responsibility. We weren’t receiving live feeds from fixed-wing UAVs such as the Leleka-100, SHARK, or Furia... It was precisely this lack of deep reconnaissance that allowed the enemy to approach our positions with impunity. I also had information that our brigade had received two Heidrun systems from the city council. According to the command, we couldn’t get these systems because we were an independent battalion, and the Heidrun was considered a brigade-level asset. Additionally, we had no trained crew with access to the system, and to attend the training, we needed to have the system in our possession. A classic catch-22.
Meanwhile, the tank kept hammering us. Each shot echoed painfully in head. The confined space amplified the shockwaves from the explosions. The loud ringing in my ears was a familiar sign of another concussion. The top row of concrete blocks, battered by tank rounds, began shifting inward toward the basement—just a few more hits and our shelter could collapse. With the arrival of darkness, the shelling ceased. The night began with an eerie silence—alarming and frightening. Enemy assaults typically follow shellings. As I watched my sector, I had time to analyze the enemy's tactics: sacrificing a few soldiers to expose our firing positions. Once identified, those positions would be destroyed with precision fire, followed by a clearing operation and consolidation. The best counter to this, in my view, is the early detection of these "suicide squads"—eliminating them with all available firepower in the sector without committing frontline infantry units from the forward defense line.
Before dawn, we received an order to withdraw from the industrial zone to the Mukachevo forest plantation and link up with the incoming shift there. After the handover, we successfully exfiltrated, and the entire shift was sent to the hospital. Every subsequent rotation for our guys ended the same way—with a trip to the hospital.
– How long were you able to sustain this pace?
– Our company’s combat effectiveness was reduced to the absolute minimum. The only role left for our troops was guiding soldiers from other units into the Mukachevo forest plantation. But even that didn’t keep me out of the hospital again.
– You’ve been wounded three times—that pushed you to leave the infantry. But I’ll ask again: what’s going on in your mind, not just your body?
– After my third hospitalization, I realized that staying in the infantry any longer would lead to bitter consequences. The inefficient use of such a scarce resource as an infantryman devalues all the effort and sacrifice of the soldiers. I asked the battalion commander to transfer me to the UAV platoon. The squad leader there was my best friend—one of the founding members of the unit and completely dedicated to the job. He had been trying to get me to join for a long time. I submitted a request for a demotion to squad leader. Once my transfer order came through, I started gaining new experience as part of a strike UAV crew.
The technological army is the future
– Regarding the issue of "running out of infantry," do you agree that the biggest problem facing our army is a lack of personnel?
– In my opinion, the shortage of personnel is not the biggest problem for our army. The real issue is the inability and unwillingness of some of our commanders to learn how to effectively utilize both human and technological resources. There is a lack of motivation efforts, as well as irresponsibility when it comes to encouraging the development and improvement of personnel. Addressing these problems should be a top priority. Our army does require constant replenishment, but it is equally important to preserve our soldiers as much as possible.
– You have repeatedly mentioned failures in intelligence. How should the work be conducted?
- While gaining new experience as part of a strike UAV crew, I had the opportunity to observe enemy movements and analyze their effective tactics. Small enemy groups of 3-5 soldiers advance and establish positions in tree lines and on the outskirts of settlements. Our reconnaissance units, due to the limited number of reconnaissance drones, are unable to detect all enemy groups, especially at night. The enemy exploits this advantage effectively.
There are outstanding Ukrainian units that have developed and successfully implemented their own tactics to counter such enemy offensives. Infantry holds the front line—no one can fight without infantry, and no ground battle can take place without it. However, everyone operating behind the front line must work to support the infantry—all weapons and assets should be directed towards this goal. If a unit is properly equipped, it will prevent the enemy from advancing closer than 400 meters. This, in turn, ensures the infantry's security and minimizes losses. Such successful methods need to be scaled up—we must not be complacent or ashamed to learn.
- What are your plans now? You've already mentioned UAV training.
- I am not tired of the war. It's like I got a second wind, I'm convinced that I can be more effective. I have areas for development, I am doing something I like. I believe that everyone can find themselves in the army.
If the leadership is unwilling to meet me halfway and support my continued training within my unit, or if it refuses to allow testing and experimentation with equipment, I will be forced to transfer to another unit that values my skills. A technologically advanced army is the future, and it is being built here and now. I want to learn and grow to be as useful as possible in securing our victory.
Olha Skorokhod, Censor. NET
