"Sometimes it gets so frustrating that I feel like heading to the front lines." A TCK employee shares insights on serving both at the front and in the rear.

According to him, today the personnel of recruitment centers are being blamed for the shortcomings of the mobilization policy. They are seen as cunning individuals who have found comfortable positions in the rear while sending others to fight. Meanwhile, most of them have experienced war and have the right not to avert their eyes from those liable for military service and their families.

We speak with Alexander about his war experiences, his work in the recruitment center, and the helplessness of his colleagues in the face of aggression from fellow citizens and enemy sabotage.

Missing in action?

Alexander is 39 years old. He graduated from the Luhansk University of Internal Affairs and worked as an investigator. However, in 2016, he decided to change his life by signing a contract with the Armed Forces of Ukraine. He served for three years in the 181st Separate Battalion of logistics support.

“My position was a squad operator for the security platoon. We escorted cargo to the ATO zone: ammunition, medical supplies, food, equipment — everything necessary for the fighters to accomplish their combat tasks. There were also long-term deployments to the ATO zone in the Donetsk region. I remember how in Volodarsk the locals looked at us so suspiciously that we didn’t go out alone. Local women referred to their men by saying: ‘he’s fighting.’ When you ask where, the answer would be: ‘On the other side’,” recalls Sasha.

In 2019, he was transferred to serve in the military enlistment office of the Emilchyn district in the Zhytomyr region. In November 2023, he became the chief sergeant of the 407th Separate Rifle Battalion and less than a week later found himself in Avdiivka. Prior to this, his combat training at the training ground had only occurred in 2016.

“But I had ATO experience, and as a university cadet, I lived in barracks and underwent special training — consider it, I was ready for battle,” laughs Sasha.

He fought for about a month in the area of the Avdiivka dachas — military observers at that time reported that our fighters needed to prevent the Russians from advancing beyond these dachas to avoid opening a path to the center of Avdiivka. So Sasha and his comrades did not let them through. Then came a concussion, a hospital stay, and after that, fighting at the Avdiivka coke plant again.

One day, he was out of contact for a long time, and his wife began calling the commanders. They told her that there was no information about Alexander.

“We were attached to the 110th Brigade, a foreign unit for them, and they didn’t pay much attention to us. The situation was such that the brigade didn’t really keep track of who had entered which position. There was no communication, and my wife was very worried. Imagine: at that very moment, her brother was in a coma after a severe injury in the hospital, and here I was without any news. When I finally managed to contact my men, I called her on January 8, 2024. And on that day, her brother died. Such coincidences… After I got out, I found my belongings with the sergeant — my backpack was lying in a pile with the bags of the deceased. I pulled it out, shook it off — and continued with the war,” recounts Sasha.

Three times declared dead

They say that people who are mistakenly considered dead will live long. Sasha is meant to live a long life, as he has been declared dead three times.

The first time was in Avdiivka. There were four of them at the position. One fighter went up to the second floor of a building, while Sasha stayed downstairs with two comrades. During the battle, he heard gunfire and shouts from the second floor, thinking that the comrade up there had been killed. At that time, a buddy next to him was also killed. Alexander reported that there were two casualties in the group. Meanwhile, the comrade from the second floor miraculously made it out, reached the designated gathering point, and reported that Sasha and the guys with him had died.

The other two incidents occurred in the Pokrovsk direction, where Alexander was transferred after Avdiivka as a fighter of the 110th Brigade. Dobropillya, Myrnohrad, Alexandrovka — battles, losses, and battles again, when even the company and platoon leaders had to go out to the positions because there was no one else to hold them. And when reinforcements arrived, according to Sasha, they often didn’t even have time to get acquainted with these fighters before they were lost. And then in the reports to the commanders, they named the deceased by their call signs — so that somewhere in the headquarters, they would sort out who had died and from where. That’s how they lost comrades without even knowing who had been killed beside them.

“Under Alexandrovka, there was a moment when I found cover behind a stump — then I realized it was rotten and unreliable. And a few meters away were trees, where it was more or less possible to hide. As soon as I crawled over, a shell landed right where I had been sitting, leaving a crater. And the sergeant reported over the radio that I was dead. I was about five meters away from my men, but they couldn’t see me — everything around was so shattered and torn up by shells that you could only identify who was who by voice. The guys saw the crater and thought there was no one left to call out,” recalls Alexander.

The third time, a shell landed exactly where Alexander’s backpack was, from which he had just pulled out ammunition and cigarettes:

“The ammo in the trench was covered with dirt. If you load it, the rifle jams. So I went to my backpack. It was somewhat funny: due to the explosion, both I and the platoon leader had our eardrums ruptured, we couldn’t hear anything, only communicated with gestures. After the explosion near my backpack, the platoon leader gestured to me about who I was,” he shares.

Sasha will remember the battles under Alexandrovka for as long as he lives. He had many concussions before, but none that were so debilitating. He and the platoon leader had a position at the intersection of two thickets, and the Russians stormed them five to seven times a day. At some point, according to Sasha, they began to bombard the position with mortars and drone drops so heavily that the trees were falling.

“At that point, it was impossible to discern what was hitting us. The blast wave threw the platoon leader against the wall of the trench, and he even stuck to it. I was standing closer to the exit, and I was thrown outside and landed on the parapet, and a branch, cut off by debris, hit me hard on the head — and the helmet didn’t protect me. I checked myself — arms and legs were intact. But the concussion was very severe, ruptured eardrums from acoustic trauma, and I severely damaged my spine. After Avdiivka, I developed hypertension — my blood pressure was 200 over 100, and they managed to bring it down a bit — to 170. I fought with that on the Pokrovsk direction. And now I live with it — when it starts to drop, I drop too. After Alexandrovka, my health really deteriorated. That’s when an ulcer developed, and I was supposed to be in the hospital,” says Sasha.

According to doctors' assessments, the man is now fit for service in the recruitment centers, military educational institutions, and logistics units. In combat units — only at his own request.

“With my back and 20 meters in body armor, I can no longer make it, and this high blood pressure is debilitating. But, to be honest, sometimes the unbearable attitude of people towards us in the recruitment center makes me think about returning to the front,” shares Alexander.

The offensive term “recruiter”

He returned to the recruitment center in November 2024 — exactly a year after serving in combat units. His official position is operator of the documentation support unit. This means he is formally supposed to work at a computer and deal with documents and mail. In reality, he constantly interacts with those liable for military service and their relatives — this is now a volatile group. And without them, nerves are already frayed — someone slams the door, and you start shaking; the psyche hasn’t fully adapted to civilian life yet.

He has to deliver notifications of the deaths of their loved ones and mobilization notices to people. Recently, he needed to inform parents in one village about the death of their son — a young man, only 23 years old, an officer who had just graduated from military school. Alexander entered the yard, greeted them, and said he had come with bad