Feat of Frost platoon near Andriivka in August 2023
In March this year, stunning footage surfaced online, filmed by a soldier from the Third Assault Brigade’s "Frost" platoon, call sign Piro, using a GoPro helmet camera. A group of soldiers is engaged in combat for a tree line that has been razed to the ground by artillery fire. The enemy continues shelling the area with mortars and drones; there are no secure shelters. An YPR-765 armored personnel carrier rushes into the tree line, deploying a fresh group for rotation, while Piro’s group boards the APC. However, the vehicle breaks down, the evacuation is disrupted, and the group is forced to abandon it. The enemy opened targeted fire on the position, severely wounding one soldier and later the drone operator himself.
– This is one of the most striking videos of the war I’ve ever seen. It’s the kind of footage that demands to be watched standing. Because every minute captured in that video is a true feat — a glimpse of life, the blood of real Ukrainian heroes. We knew nothing about this video or the hero who filmed it. And now, for the first time, we have the chance to interview this hero who, thank God, survived.
– My name is Kostiantyn, call sign Piro. I’m a former soldier of the Third Assault Brigade, "Frost" platoon.
– How old are you?
– I’m 27. I spent most of my life in Odesa, and the rest in Poland before the full-scale invasion. Then I came back to join the Armed Forces of Ukraine and defend the country.
– Where did the events you captured on video take place?
– It was on the outskirts of the village of Andriivka, in the Bakhmut district. This was in August 2023. We were originally a fire support company, but we were restructured into an assault company. We spent a month and a half training to become assault troops. Before that, I was an SPG-9 gunner. And honestly, I started getting a bit bored with light artillery. I wanted to become an assault soldier.
Our platoon commander was Serhii Moroz, a heroic man. He accepted me into the platoon right away, with no hesitation. And we trained intensely for a month and a half to prepare for assaults. We had training grounds, tree lines to practice in. It was a tough area. We struggled to break through to it for quite a while for a month or a month and a half, fighting was ongoing just to reach the approach.
On the day it happened, we were waiting at the assembly point. We waited a long time, there was no clarity on how the assault was going. Eventually, we got the call: we were being deployed to the start point.
They explained the situation: the guys from the third company had failed to take the position. They let enemy machine gunners flank them. Many of them were killed. If I’m not mistaken, only one or two came out unharmed. And a few wounded, those who were pinned down, were stuck there, with nothing but open field behind them. There was no way for them to withdraw. We were moving in to retake that position. Our task was to give the guys enough time to load up and withdraw. We stayed behind to complete the assault and secure the tree line. We were on the radio, waiting for it all to kick off. They went in. The fighting on their end lasted about 30 to 40 minutes, maybe. Their mission was a success — they managed to evacuate the comrades from the Third Company. Our assault was also successful, though it came at a cost.
One of our brothers-in-arms, Kolia "Viking," was killed on the spot due to severe injuries. And Monakh was wounded in the arm. But overall, he’s doing fine. I saw him — if I’m not mistaken, he’s now working as an instructor.
We went in with the next group. They brought back the wounded from the Third Company, and we rolled out as the second crew.
What was the main difficulty of this operation? It was the fact that it took place during nighttime. We arrived around 11 p.m. When we got to the position, we just jumped out of the vehicle. There was a hit right next to us. I landed straight into ashes, the entire tree line was burned out. There were no trees left. They were just scorched. I plunged my hands into the ash, looking for any cover. But apart from craters and burned-out dugouts, there was nothing. Some makeshift sleeping places, I told the guys to rest there.
And Hektor and I kept moving. Once the tank and the 120mm mortar had escorted our vehicles in, they came back to support us. And from around midnight until about five in the morning, I was just running back and forth between the tank and the 120mm mortar, all across the tree line.
We probably ended up in one of the toughest phases because the enemy wasn’t holding back on artillery ammo at all. Over those two and a half days, I’d say our tree line took around a couple thousand shells. Just one explosion after another. There was no point trying to dig in — we simply didn’t have the chance. So we took whatever cover we could find. Honestly, hiding didn’t make much sense either — the sky was swarming with UAVs, so many drones, including larger reconnaissance UAVs. They saw everything. They knew exactly where we were. They were adjusting their fire but fortunately, they didn’t hit us too hard.
Over those two and a half days, we shot down around 20 FPV drones and about 5 Mavics — all with small arms. When an FPV came in, we’d see it diving toward us. The three of us would stand up from the trench and open fire. It would be in a full dive. The guys would drop down, and I’d keep shooting. In front of me, it was flat ground, and behind me, a parapet. The drone slammed into the ground and flipped over onto that parapet, landing right next to me. I turned around and saw the warhead starting to smoke. I grabbed it, planning to throw it out of the trench — but it had already detached from the drone, while the wires were still connected. Then, somehow, maybe from kinetic force, the drone tore loose. I let go of the warhead, it dropped into the trench, and the drone flew off. And I thought: that’s it. Lysyi was to my left, covering his head. He saw the warhead, grabbed it, and threw it two meters behind him. We just dropped to the ground. A few seconds later, a powerful explosion. You know, when a shell lands, it usually has a casing, a metal body that absorbs the blast energy, so the explosive effect is more contained. But this was just a plastic tube packed with plastique and some fragments. The blast was so intense I could feel my organs slam against my spine.
– We were dug in properly, fully underground.
- Kasper.
– Yeah. When he came back, he sat down in the trench next to Moroz. He was a bit worn out, so he sat to rest — right on one of the steps in the trench. And then a shell landed nearby. Because his head was slightly above ground level, a fragment hit him in the head.
We ask Bayron how he’s doing. He says he can’t do anything. We tell him that Kasper has shrapnel in his head. Somehow, we manage to persuade him to get up. Bayron goes to him.
– Incredible willpower. The medic was wounded. But even after receiving treatment himself, he went on to treat his injured comrade.
– When Bayron brought Kasper to my trench, he was shaken. He said, "I wasn’t trained for this." The injury was severe — the kind you don’t know how to handle. Limbs, torso, head… He did everything he could: stopped the bleeding, gave painkillers, something for the nausea. We laid Kasper down to wait for evacuation. Luckily, the evac arrived fairly quickly, within about two hours. They managed to bring in a vehicle, some extra ammo, and water. Bayron and Bordeaux, since they were both pretty badly concussed too, were evacuated along with Kasper. We also got reinforcements to help us hold the flank near the treeline. Not many, but at least someone.
– Did Kasper make it?
– Unfortunately, Kasper died in the hospital about a week later.
Well, I don’t know — just bad luck, I guess. An FPV drone hit our position. At that moment, we were firing concentrated shots at it, but it still struck with precision. Morty and Fara, who were at the machine gun nest, took the full force of the blast. Zhulik was just a bit farther away — maybe half a meter. Maybe the wall shielded him, maybe something else. Anyway, he wasn’t hurt. But Fara and Morty were killed.
– Roman and Denys. They were the youngest in our unit. One was 23, the other 21. Fara had just gotten married — literally a month or two ago. Just the day before, Fara and I were lying in the same trench. I asked him, "What are you doing here? You’re so young, and you just got married." He said, "I don’t know… I just feel this deep need for justice." I understood exactly what he meant, because that same sense — that same awareness — is what brought me back to Ukraine when the full-scale war began.
And when they were gone, it was a strange feeling.
- One of their senior commanders started yelling over the radio: "All guns — fire at the Bradley!" And all weapons turned on us... Meanwhile, while the MRAP vehicle was still there, we were loading into it — some of the guys were unloading, we were getting in. That took a bit of time. And right then, all the barrels on that section were being aimed our way.
- We all get into the vehicle, realizing we can’t take the KIAs with us — the situation just doesn’t allow it. We’re all pissed off, exhausted. Borz starts pounding the MRAP’s ceiling, yelling, cursing. The ramp closes. We’re thinking, fine, at least we’ll get the hell out of here. But the damn thing doesn’t move.
- I’m sure we all had the same thought at that moment. We look at Moroz. "On foot?" — "On foot!" We start getting out, knowing exactly where we have to go. We ditch everything we’re carrying — realizing how close the shells are already landing. It was a sharp, impulsive decision. We start running. Borz, remembering you can’t run in a cluster, tries to veer slightly to the left, while the main group moves forward in a single file. A shell lands right next to him.
– The video ends with those final shots, where you're left alone and it really feels like that's it, like life just stops.
– At that moment, Moroz and Lysyi were wounded, and Hektor was close to them — he had been moving behind me and started providing aid. I realized I wouldn’t be able to carry Borz on my own in that condition. I couldn’t figure out how. I was in this light state of shock, just trying to process what was happening. Even then, as a commander, he was still giving me instructions on what to do. Borz is an incredible guy, by the way. The guys weren’t that young, but Borz, he was 21.
– Borz? That guy? That guy is 21?!
– Yeah, he was 21 in that video. A squad leader. Super sharp, a great organizer, a strong leader and he had real authority, both among his brothers-in-arms and even with the command. A real soldier. He only joined in 2022, when he came to the Third Brigade — but damn, he’s good. A really solid guy.
At that moment, it was probably a tank that fired — we didn’t hear the shell itself. We weren’t really paying attention to outgoing fire; we were fully focused on helping our wounded brother. That’s when I got hit in the leg — a fracture, a through-and-through shrapnel wound. That took me out of action in terms of moving on my own. That left only Hektor uninjured. He was the only one who could help or try to evacuate us.
I told him: "That’s it for me. I can’t walk. I can’t crawl either — my leg’s broken." He understood and dragged me into a fairly narrow trench, just deep enough to hide me. He told me to wait it out and said, "I’ll come back for you." Given everything — the exhaustion, the wounds — I wasn’t feeling too optimistic. After everything that had happened over those two days, the whole situation felt kind of fatal to me. I told him, "No, take Borz. He’s already lying there, ready to go."
– Why did Hektor say that to you?
– He saw that I gave Borz a grenade and kept one for myself. So he told me, "I’ll be back — don’t even think about setting it off. It’s not time yet."
When Hektor left, dragging Borz out, I still had a radio on me. I had given Hektor mine and forgot that I’d taken Borz’s. That one was connected to the battalion command post. I heard Hektor over the radio — he’d pulled out Borz and was going back for Moroz. He reported that over comms. Then a few minutes of silence. And suddenly, Hektor comes back on: "I’m WIA. Took a hit to the head."
At that point, I realized that no one was likely to come for me anytime soon — maybe not at all. And from that, the negative thoughts started spiraling, fast. I made a decision — maybe a rash one. Probably rash. But when you're wounded, you don’t think like you normally do. I started to believe the enemy was already closing in around me. And the only humane thing I could do — for myself — was to set off a grenade and destroy the radio. I knew everyone had radios, but at least they wouldn’t get mine. I tried to blow the strap off my plate carrier. I placed the radio under the plate, put the camera there too. Then, as I exhaled, I pulled the pin and laid the grenade down. I heard the fuse click — and then waited, not knowing what would happen. A few seconds passed. Nothing. At first, I didn’t understand what was going on. I looked at it, hit it a few times — nothing.
– What were you thinking when you pulled the pin and held the grenade to your chest?
– That’s an interesting question. The first thing that crossed my mind before doing it was: has the combat pay come through, so my mom has something to bury me with? Mom, I’m sorry for this. War is what it is, and kids are dumb. And the second thing I thought right before releasing the fuse was: I don’t know if there’s anything after this, but let’s move to the next level. I didn’t know, but I wasn’t exactly afraid of it. It was scary, yeah — because of the unknown — but accepting that was easier than accepting the thought of being found, captured, and tortured.
I think everyone’s afraid of death, but not as much as they’re afraid of torture. If you end up in enemy hands… well, by now we all know, from the stories of our POWs who returned from Russian captivity, what could be waiting for you. I was in the same hospital as Nazarii Hrynkevych, Hrynka, and I asked him about what happened there. He described it all, in full detail. Said he made it through, since he’s still here. But I asked him, "If you had the choice, would you go into captivity again, or would you have stayed in Azovstal and fought to the end?" He said, "No, I wouldn’t go into captivity again." And he left those camps after just four months. Four months. I can only imagine what happens to guys who’ve been there for two or three years. So for me that choice was easier to make.
I started thinking about what to do. I got in touch with the command post — they were trying to reassure me, saying someone would come for me soon. I managed to reach my IFAK, which was on my belt behind my back. I pulled it out and took an Israeli bandage from it. In the trench, I found some sticks — not too long, but long enough to make a sort of improvised splint. I couldn’t see what exactly was going on with my leg under the pants. So I put together a makeshift bandage, pulled my leg in toward me, and started taking off all my gear to try and crawl out of that hole. I rolled onto my back and started inching away using my elbows, pushing with one leg while trying to keep the injured one as straight as possible.
I crawled for about ten meters — and then the mortar fire started. There was a crater about two meters away, and I got into it. Things seemed to quiet down a bit after that. It was getting darker. I started crawling further, toward our lines. I was facing the tree line as I moved, and I saw the silhouettes of two people, their camo was darker than ours. That’s when I tensed up. I thought, maybe it’s them, maybe not. Maybe they saw me, maybe they didn’t. So I kept crawling. Slowly, inch by inch.
– On your back?
– Yeah, on my back.
– Incredible. With one leg, pushing off with just that and your elbows, on your back?
– Yeah. And as I was crawling behind these small bushes, I saw an OZM-72 standing next to me — tilted slightly.
- A mine?
- Yeah, it was a mine. As you know, it’s one of the most dangerous anti-personnel mines. I checked to see if there were any wires or trip lines. And the fact that it was leaning slightly gave me a hint — maybe it wasn’t active, at least not for me. So I started crawling forward, slowly. I don’t know how far I crawled, but then I heard voices — coming from our side. I stopped, turned back, waited, looked. Two people were walking toward me. The setting sun was still blinding me a bit. Then I heard Hektor’s voice. It was the most unexpected thing I could’ve heard at that moment. I thought there was no way he’d be able to come back for me. I wasn’t even sure he was alive — he’d said he took a head wound. And I’d seen what that looked like the day before. But he came back. He’d found someone from an adjacent unit who volunteered to help him pull me out. I don’t know why it happened at that exact moment — fate, maybe dumb luck. Maybe the bastards ran out of ammo. Maybe they just didn’t want to waste any more rounds on the wounded. But at that moment, everything went completely quiet.
By the time we were evacuated, Hektor had saved four lives. He’s still serving — just not in the infantry anymore. During our extraction, he injured his back, spent a long time recovering, and eventually returned to duty. He’s now with a UAV reconnaissance unit. He’s still fighting. He’s the hero of that withdrawal.
- Please tell me, my friend, what happened to your platoon commander, Moroz?
- The next day, when I was already in the hospital in Kharkiv, I found out they’d had to amputate Moroz’s leg — he’d been in a tourniquet for too long, and the wounds were severe. They amputated the leg, and then, just as his wife arrived, he passed away. When we learned that Moroz was gone, we made a collective decision: the platoon had to be named after him. He was an incredible person and a great commander — and there aren’t many like him. That’s why we named the platoon "Frost," in his honor. The composition of the platoon has changed a lot since then — there are guys now that I honestly don’t even know. But the platoon lives on. And it still carries his name.
I just want to thank all my brothers-in-arms who stood with me back then, who came into my life during this brutal war, and who are still around, still in the fight. And even if not in the fight anymore, you did what most people never could. You are real heroes. You deserve respect, gratitude, and support. Always.
To everyone out there — I want to say: please keep donating to the infantry, to the assault troops. This is the hardest work there is. Their needs are the most urgent. And I hope we can share a donation link for my assault platoon "Frost," from the 3rd Company, 2nd Assault Battalion, of the 3rd Assault Brigade. They need support, because they carry out missions that most ordinary people simply couldn’t handle. (Donation link). Thank you for your help. And to you, Yurii — thank you for shining a light on this war, for telling the stories of real heroes, and for making sure they are remembered, not forgotten. That means the world. And on behalf of our unit, from all of our guys — I want to give you the patch of our platoon, bearing the name of Moroz.
- Thank you, my friend. This is a true honor for me. It means a lot. Thank you.
