Dmitri was on call at his hospital in Kyiv when the war broke out. He slept in the on-call room through the initial bombings and was woken up by a theatre nurse.

“Wake up, wake up – the Russians have started the war, your hometown is completely destroyed!”

He was originally from Dnipro but had moved to Kyiv two years previously. Still half asleep he called his parents who were still living there. They did not know anything about the war either, having overslept the initial shelling just as he had. They turned on the TV as they were speaking to him and discovered that the Dnipro airport had been wiped out by a missile attack. So, the nurse was wrong, it was “just” the airport, not the whole city. Dmitri could live with that…

There was initial confusion and panic as the events were unfolding at a rapid pace. Ukraine was being attacked from land, sea, and air. Many major cities, including Kyiv were being bombed. In fact, a large formation of attack helicopters was flying towards Kyiv from Belarus in order to capture, and secure one of the airports for subsequent landing of an elite paratrooper regiment who would then advance and capture all the major governmental buildings in the capital. According to the Russian plan, the war was meant to last for three days, but the military fortune was on the side of the Ukrainians – they managed to destroy all those helicopters along with most of the paratroopers, but that is a different story.

In hospital, all the elective surgeries were cancelled, and the staff began preparing to receive, triage, and treat combat casualties. There were a few doctors and nurses, including Dmitri who had some previous experience treating combat injuries as the war in the east of the country had been raging on for 8 years by then. They immediately took the leadership in rapid planning and preparing to deal with mass casualty scenarios. Dmitri had been the Head of Anaesthetic Department at a large regional centre in Dnipro before moving to Kyiv. Dnipro was only about 100 miles from the eastern frontline and so doctors there were quite experienced in various types of combat trauma. Dmitri even recorded a video about triage of those patients, which is still very popular on Youtube.

Then the work kicked off. Dmitri worked at a tertiary referral centre where most of the elective specialist services were based, so they did not receive a great number of casualties. Besides, Russians were pushed out of the Kyiv in the first few days, so the hospital was not overwhelmed, but doctors, and nurses still had to deal with a steady flow of combat injuries, mostly as secondary referrals. The work was keeping Dmitri busy, but he felt uneasy. He knew that he could do more, be more useful closer to the frontline, perhaps working at a military field hospital.

In his previous peaceful life, Dmitri was working as an Anaesthetist at a tertiary referral medical centre in Kyiv.

After a few weeks, he went to an army recruitment centre, and asked if he could join in as a doctor. There were crowds of people who came to volunteer to go to the frontline, and he had to stand in a long queue before he could speak to a recruitment officer:

“What do you do for living?”
“I am an anaesthesiologist. Could I be sent to work at a military field hospital?”
“Did you graduate from your medical school with a military qualification?”

(During Soviet times some of the Universities had military training departments that allowed students to get military qualifications and be awarded an officer’s rank. That tradition had carried on in ex-Soviet bloc countries like Ukraine).

“No, I was awarded a diploma of a “civilian physician”.
“Then, you could only act as a combat medic. You have to be an officer to be able to work as an army doctor”.
“Ok then. I am in anyway”.
“Ok. Here’s your paperwork, a bus is leaving in half an hour.”
“Hrm. Could I just take a couple of days to get some things sorted?”
“Sure.”

And so, in two days, Dmitri was back wearing jeans, and a pink sweatshirt, which he thought would keep him warm if he wore it underneath his camo. Speaking of which, he quickly discovered that the Ukrainian Army could offer only two sizes of camo – too small, and too big. Being not a small man himself, Dmitri tried a “large” size which was around 10 inches bigger around his waist, and 20 inches longer than his legs. “You will be fine, just pin it with a safety pin”- said the guy at the storeroom. Luckily, a truck full of NATO standard issue uniform arrived on that day, and he managed to pick up a size that fitted him perfectly.

Now he is a combat medic.

Then he was given an AK with some ammo. There was no training involved. He was just asked if he knew how to use it. He had a basic knowledge, having previously shot a few rounds at a range, and it was considered sufficient.

“Your bus is leaving in five minutes. Get ready.”
“What about a bulletproof vest?”
“Don’t have any. You will get it at the frontline somehow.”

Dmitri did not like that “somehow” at all but had no time to dwell too much on it. He joined the other new recruits, and they were off to the frontline, which was not that far away from the city at the time. Luckily, one of the recruits was an experienced soldier who had fought in the east previously. He made a call on his mobile, and a few minutes later as they were leaving through the gates a minivan full of bulletproof vests pulled off in front of them. Dmitri was given one, as well as the others who were on their bus.

They were taken to the frontline, which was still fairly close to the city, and told to dig trenches, and build fortifications. They were the first line of defence and had no direct contact with the enemy. The was the “line zero” in front of them, which consisted of professional soldiers who did. There were artillery units behind them who were constantly engaged in duels with the Russian ones. Once in trenches you got used to various projectiles flying above your head in both directions. You also got very good at quickly estimating their calibre, as well as their approximate landing site.

An improvised shower with frozen water.

“Bloody cold and f..ng scary” is how Dmitri remembers his early days on the frontline. It was still cold outside in mid-March, especially at night; but it was even colder inside the trenches. -3 degrees Celsius outside, -10 – inside the trenches. It did get warmer during shellings, especially when a shell would explode nearby, but you were missing being cold when that happened… You learn to dive face down with a deafening sound of explosion, sand and dirt falling on you from above…if you are lucky.

Dmitri remembers two episodes in particular. One day they were driving in a small convoy past a military base when Russian artillery started shooting at it it with some heavy shells. It was the first time Dmitri had an experience of being shelled outside of a trench, and it was also the time he discovered, while running to a closest basement that a bulletproof vest does not prevent you from breaking the World’s land speed record.

Another time they were attacked by a Russian gunship. Their unit was engaged in clearing up a small, forested area while it appeared from behind the trees, and started shooting at them. That was the first time Dmitri experienced being under heavy machine gunfire. He remembers tall pine trees falling around them as they were grass being cut down by an invisible mower. He also wanted to become invisible, “wafer-thin” as he put it, to disappear from the face of the Earth. Thankfully, it was all over in minutes – someone shot the helicopter down with an RPG. It went down in flames and exploded at a safe distance from where they were. It was a rare explosion that was met with cheers and celebrations.

Life in the trenches.

They stayed on the frontline for a while until the Russians were pushed back, or as they themselves stated “decided to concentrate their efforts on de-nazifying the eastern regions of Ukraine”. Dmitri’s unit was re-located to a large training facility back in Kyiv. There he got a few opportunities to improve his tactical medical skills, as well as finally received some basic army training. He has now received all the necessary credentials and has a full support of the unit’s Chief Medical Officer to be able to work as an Anaesthetist at a field hospital, which was his original aspiration. At the time of writing, he was getting ready to be deployed to the eastern frontline, the Donbas region where the fiercest battles since the war had started were being fought.

Dmitri says that among his territorial army comrades, he has not yet met anybody who has been drafted. Everyone has signed up as a volunteer. Although men between 18 and 60 years of age are not allowed to leave the country in preparation for possible general mobilisation, it has not been needed just yet. In fact, some volunteers have been known to be sent back home as the recruitment centres had had enough applicants then.

Digging deep – one of their positions on the frontline.

Although chaotic at the start, his experience with the Army has improved dramatically as they have learned and tested the ropes in the battle conditions under the guidance of experienced commanding officers. This is an Army of highly motivated individuals, who unlike their Russian opponents know exactly what they are fighting for. Both Armies share the same origin, the Soviet Army – a highly centralised hierarchical structure with a complete disregard for human lives, including the lives of its own soldiers. The order from the top is absolute, and everything is done not to upset a commanding officer above you, no matter the cost. That is an army of slaves.

On the contrary, the modern Ukranian Army, although sharing some stupidity and inefficiencies of the Soviet one is quite modern in terms of its de-centralised leadership practices, care for individual soldiers, as well as military gear. Even tactical medical set up is based on the NATO standards. Dmitri saw the Russian tactical first aid kits removed from dead, and captured Russian soldiers, and was amazed at what he found inside them – basic tourniquets made of overstretched red rubber and some out-of-date simple bandages.

At the same time, every Ukrainian soldier had an IFAK, which contained a CAT tourniquet, Celox haemostatic gauze, compression bandage, and scissors at the very minimum. In every unit there was a medic whose responsibility it was to look after the kit, and to make sure that both their soldiers, and themselves were up to date with their tactical medical training. The commanding officers at all levels were encouraging everyone to receive training, and competencies that were considered essential in the Western Armies, to maintain the required standards. When Dmitri wanted to go and attend a tactical medical training course in Kyiv, which was organised by the British military, his commanding officer gave him a leave, and arranged all the transportation in an instant. Overall, he felt that he was a part of outward-looking, progressive organisation, which consisted of highly motivated individuals who were prepared, and did learn to adapt very quickly. It was also trying to get rid of its Soviet past, which was sometimes a painful, but overall successful process.

Probably the main theme, and an overriding topic of our conversation was individual choices, and their consequences. Everybody wants to do something good, and heroic but not everybody is prepared to endure the everyday rut, the hard, and often dirty work, the boredom, the pain, the loss of comfort, the lack of appreciation, and cheers for your heroism. In times like this there are plenty of vultures, who come to prey on people’s graves for their personal gains. There were a few influencers, and minor pop stars who showed up in places like Bucha, and Irpen to have a photo shoot to show to their followers. “Look at me, I am a true Ukrainian patriot”. Instead of helping to clean the places up, to help bury the dead bodies littering the streets, they were taking selfies there hoping to raise the numbers of their followers. As Dmitri says, “They have turned those places into Disneyland”.

With his pet.

Dmitri did not know and could not possibly imagine what he was getting himself into when he signed up to join the territorial Army several weeks after the Russian invasion of Ukraine. He simply felt that he had no choice but to do it. He could not stay and continue with his civilian job. Especially, after Bucha, and after half of his favourite beautiful city of Kharkiv had been levelled by Russian barbarians. He felt that he simply had to go. He did not know what it was going to be like, he had never been in the Army before, let alone during times of war. He was not prepared for the chaos, panic, losses and horrors, that he has seen, but he knew full well that it was not going to be an easy ride with a prize, fame, or even a tap on the shoulder at the end of it. He was prepared to endure. He fully understood that it was possibly one of his life’s big choices, perhaps The Choice, which all of us would, or have faced at some point. It is hard, and sometimes messy, but you have to make it because it is the right thing to do.

I am humbled by Dmitri’s strength, and just hope that I too will make the right choice when the time comes.