I have worked for many years as a legal expert in parliament, in a law firm and in a foundation. Today my life looks very different. I have voluntarily joined the Ukrainian Armed Forces as a soldier rifleman. I am on a three-day leave, surrounded by my loved ones, yet still carrying the weight of the front with me.
People often ask what fear feels like in war. Fear is sharp in the first moments. It strikes quickly and briefly, but it does not last. It changes into a cold and steady calm. At some point you stop thinking about yourself and begin to understand that you are acting for something larger. You fight not only for your family or your home city or your workplace. You fight for everyone. We are warriors. Not lazy. Not sleepy. Our cause is righteous and holy. Whatever others may believe, we stand for independence. As our great poet Lina Kostenko reminds us, we believe, fight and win.
The face of war is not one thing. At ground zero you see trenches and constant alertness. In the areas close to the front you find houses shattered by shells with blood on the bricks. You meet wounded comrades walking on crutches. You see poorly clothed children in orphanages, children who have been displaced yet still hold hope in their eyes. Further from the front the picture shifts. Volunteers and charities work tirelessly to help people and animals. Each step away from the line reveals another layer of the same conflict.
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I do not carry many belongings. My only talisman is a tiger’s eye stone in the form of a locket. My family is small. My mother is a pensioner and my brother Ostap is disabled. My father and grandparents are gone. What I carry with me most are memories. They stay close regardless of where I am.
Victory will come. We will win. We did not start this war but we will finish the job. What image of victory do I visualise? Victory will appear dusty and scarred with tangled hair, yet it will smile slightly and look at us with a clear and piercing gaze.
—As told to Mridula Ghosh
The author is a lawyer turned soldier.