"I thought I would have to drink my own urine." Reflecting on 68 days in isolation and how the body of a deceased companion aided his survival.

“After I got out, I tried to share my experiences with friends and family—no one understood me. They listened but didn’t get it! I was angry, wanted to cry, I felt so much pain inside, but there were no tears. Nastya came to Slovyansk to see me, and I shouted at her: don’t touch me, don’t come near me! She said something—but it was never right! She smiled—and I wanted to hit her. I told her: don’t smile, don’t smile at me!”

… Vlad and I are talking in his rented one-room apartment in Irpin, where the power has just been turned off according to schedule, and because of that, the electric heating isn’t working. Vlad doesn’t pay attention to such trifles. When there’s a threat of Russian “Shahed” strikes and missiles in Irpin, he simply covers the window with curtains. It would be nice to rest somewhere in the Carpathians—maybe next time when he returns from the front. For now, Vlad enjoys watching the lake from his balcony. “Look, there’s a duck, it just swam by,” he says happily that the duck appeared just when he wanted to show it.

Vlad constantly receives phone calls, but he ignores them while talking to me. However, he answers one—it’s someone from the commanders. It seems to be about state awards.

“They’re nominating me for the Hero of Ukraine,” Vlad explains, revealing what he was just informed over the phone.

From Dentists to National Guardsmen

At 25, his face is so youthful that even a beard doesn’t lend him any gravity. He has a very charming smile when he talks about how he somehow learned dentistry at the Zhytomyr Medical Institute, how he loathed working in a clinic, and how at 20 he signed a contract with the National Guard of Ukraine. Soon, his commander suggested that he train to become an officer.

The full-scale invasion caught Vlad as a cadet at the National Guard Academy in Kharkiv. By the third day, he and his comrades occupied a position near the village of Mala Rogan. He had an automatic rifle, four magazines, and a grenade, which they were ordered to arm only when the fighting began. It could take up to 10 seconds to fumble with the grenade’s fuse in the cold. An automatic rifle fires more than 10 rounds a second. That’s how many times he could have been killed by Russian gunmen while he was struggling with that fuse.

At his first combat position, Vlad witnessed how pitiful officers become when they can’t overcome their fear of the enemy. Near Mala Rogan, he became a grown man.

… The cadets held their positions for a month. Then they were ordered to return to the classroom to finish their studies.

“Before the war, I studied half-heartedly—I was in the humanities faculty, dealing with personnel, paperwork. We fired three rounds a few times a year—that was our entire combat training. But after Mala Rogan, I understood what knowledge I lacked to fight effectively. I searched for that knowledge all over the internet and YouTube. My notebooks were filled with notes. I’m an officer; soldiers will stand behind me, and they shouldn’t die because of my stupidity,” Vlad recalls today.

He graduated from the academy in the spring of 2023. After training, he served in several units—handling both paperwork and training fighters. Only the following year did he join the “Svoboda” battalion.

Assault, Trenches, and Assault Again

“Guys with officer ranks don’t go to fight with soldiers at the positions—that’s not their job; they should organize their subordinates to carry out combat missions. But I went. Because there was no one else to go to those positions; we were short on people. And how can you be at war and not shoot at some Russian? How can I, as a platoon commander, give orders to soldiers if I haven’t been in their shoes and don’t know their work? That’s why I went. On the “Adolf” I was just a soldier, but on the “Pincher” I appointed myself as the position leader. Before me, there was a leader—I don’t know how to describe him without cursing, and I was ready for anything after “Adolf.”

On July 10, 2024, Vlad found himself at the “Adolf” position. The situation had been dire for several days. He found three fighters at Adolf—he became the fourth. The command warned that they would be occupying the position for about a month.

“The trainer of Mike Tyson said that fear is a fire warming your home. If there’s too little, it’s cold; if there’s too much, the house will burn down. There should be just enough fear to keep you warm and help you act. The fight is on—shoot, don’t stop. Once you start to fear, think about death during the fight—then it’s all over.”

The intensity of the Russian assaults was insane. A few days later, two more fighters were wounded at “Adolf.” After evacuating the wounded, Vlad was left alone with a comrade. A day, two, or an eternity—he can’t recall now. Then one by one, reinforcements began to arrive.

“The Russians are storming, we’re defending, then we set up the position, digging this earth, filling bags with it, patching holes because if a bullet passes through such a bag, it won’t kill but only wound. We fend off assaults again, dig again, someone gets hit, someone is moved to other positions. We were constantly 3-4 people at the positions; there were never more than that. We held ‘Adolf’ for 37 days—in that time, the composition of fighters changed about 8 times. There were National Guardsmen, guys from the 54th Brigade of the Armed Forces of Ukraine. One after another, one after another. And I was there all 37 days,” Vlad concludes with a magnificent curse, filled with bewilderment, astonishment, and delight.

Ready to Drink My Own Urine

… Then came the moment when no reinforcements could reach “Adolf” anymore. When power banks, food, and ammunition could only arrive by drones. And a drone can deliver only 14 kilograms. What to give up—water, grenades, communication? Drones either don’t make it or drop their deliveries in such a way that Russians shoot you a hundred times while you find it. Or they deliver it to a neighboring position—and the guys there just drink your water…

… Summer, heat, instead of air—dust infused with the stench of sweat, blood, urine, and excrement. Instead of a toilet, they had bags and bottles, which they packed in white sugar bags and threw outside. But they still bothered them, and rats tore those bags apart, rummaging through them. They would drop four bottles of water, one always somehow breaking. There was nothing to mix for a dry wash to clean up. Vlad spent 68 days at the positions, maybe wiped his body 4-5 times. There was nothing to brush his teeth with—he rinsed his mouth, spat into a cup, so he could rinse again.

“There were times we went without a drop of water. I wrote to the commander that we would really kill each other if he didn’t come. And they told us that there wouldn’t be any delivery for at least another day. When they said that, there were four of us in the dugout—and I saw the eyes of my grandfathers. They were the eyes of a hungry beast looking at a lamb. I think I looked at them the same way. And how to maintain morale? But I understand that if we give up mentally now—it’s death.”

I tell the grandfathers that we need to hold on, but I’m already losing strength myself. Mentally, I’m already surrendering because if the drone doesn’t come for another day, I’ll be ready to drink my own urine. And there are three people with me; I thought I would explode from the responsibility I felt for them. Because I need to do something to ensure these guys survive. It’s a responsibility like for children. A night without water, a day without water, and another night—then in the morning, it was dropped to us. And we drank it… They dropped us bread, cutlets. We ate and laughed. That was motivation!”

… Leaving “Adolf” meant exposing the flanks. They held the position for a month and then another week. The Russians had already approached closely. Their dugout, which resembled a real fortress in its sturdiness