"I was ready to drink my own urine." A reflection on 68 days in isolation and how the body of a deceased companion aided survival.

“After I returned, I tried to share my experiences with friends and family, but nobody understood me. They listened but didn’t grasp it! I was angry, I wanted to cry, I felt pain tearing me apart inside, yet there were no tears. Nastya came to Sloviansk to see me, and I yelled at her: don’t touch me, don’t come near me! She was saying something, but it was all wrong! She smiled, and I just 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 cut off according to schedule, resulting in the electric heating not working. Vlad doesn’t pay attention to such details. When the threat of Russian "Shaheds" and missiles arises in Irpin, he simply covers the window with curtains. It would be nice to take a break 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 exclaims happily, thrilled that the duck appeared just as he wanted to show it.

Vlad receives constant 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 are nominating me for the Hero of Ukraine,” Vlad explains about what he was just informed over the phone.

From Dentists to National Guardsmen

At 25, his face is so youthful that even his beard doesn't add any gravitas. He has a very charming smile as he recounts how he ended up studying dentistry at the Zhytomyr Medical Institute, his disdain for working in a clinic, and how at 20 he signed a contract with the National Guard of Ukraine. Soon after, his commander suggested he train to become an officer.

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

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

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

“Before the war, I was studying haphazardly—I was in a humanities faculty, dealing with personnel, paperwork. We shot three rounds a few times a year—that was the extent of our combat training. But after Mala Rogan, I realized 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 am an officer; soldiers will stand behind me, and they must not die because of my stupidity,” Vlad recalls today.

He graduated from the academy in the spring of 2023. After his studies, he served in several units, dealing with both paperwork and training fighters. It wasn’t until the following year that he joined the “Svoboda” battalion.

Assault, Trenches, and More Assaults

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

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

“The coach 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 must be enough fear to keep you warm and help you act. In battle—shoot, don’t stop. If you start to fear and think about death during the fight—then it’s over.”

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

“The Russians assault, we repel them, then we arrange the position, digging into the ground, filling bags with it, sealing holes because if a bullet passes through such a bag, it won’t kill, just wound. We repel assaults again, dig again, someone gets hit, someone is transferred to other positions. We were constantly 3-4 people at the positions; there were never more. We held “Adolf” for 37 days—during that time, the composition of the 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 the whole 37 days,” Vlad concludes the sentence with a stunning expletive, filled with confusion, astonishment, and awe.

Ready to Drink My Own Urine

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

… Summer, heat, instead of air—dust soaked with the stench of sweat, blood, urine, and excrement. Instead of toilets, they have bags and bottles; they pack them in white sugar bags and throw them outside. But they still pile up, and rats tear those bags apart and rummage through them. Four bottles of water may be dropped, but one always seems to break. There’s nothing to mix for a dry wash to clean up. Vlad spent 68 days at the positions and might have wiped his body 4-5 times. There’s nothing to clean his teeth with—he rinsed his mouth and spat into a cup to have something to rinse again.

“There were times when we had no water at all. I wrote to the commander that we would really kill each other if he didn’t send help. And we were told that there wouldn’t be any deliveries for at least another day. When this was said, there were four of us in the dugout—and I saw the eyes of my grandfathers. Those 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? I understand that if we give up mentally now—it’s death.”

I told my grandfathers that we had to hold on, but I was already losing strength myself. Mentally, I was ready to give up because if the drone didn’t arrive for another day, I would be ready to drink my own urine. And there were three people with me; I thought I would explode from the responsibility I felt for them. Because I needed to do something to ensure these guys survived. It was such a responsibility, like for children. A night without water, a day without water, and another night—then in the morning, we got some. 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 another week. The Russians had already approached closely. Their dugout, which had once resembled a real fortress, had turned into ruins. By then, his comrades, the Armed Forces fighters, received an order