“I Never Gave Myself a Choice”: A Ukrainian Combat Medic on War, Responsibility and Freedom
Valeriia Gusieva
Disclaimer: This profile is based on an extended interview conducted with a serving member of the Armed Forces of Ukraine. The soldier’s name and call sign are used with consent.
Dmytro, known by his nom de guerre “Student,” has spent the past three years in uniform. He joined the Armed Forces of Ukraine on February 24, 2022, the first day of Russia’s full-scale invasion, answering a call to what he describes not as a sudden impulse, but as a moral certainty. Now a combat medic in the Reconnaissance Company of the 106th Separate Territorial Defence Brigade, Dmytro was just twenty-two years old when the full-scale invasion began.
When the air raid woke him up on the morning of the 24th, he already knew where he was going. His father had been helping Ukrainian soldiers since 2014, after Russia first occupied Crimea. Dima grew up inside that world: distributing bulletproof vests, learning military equipment, and often participating in training at the local polygon. Ironically, February 24 was meant to be a shooting practice day and his gear was already packed.
“I woke up to the siren and my first thought was that I already knew where to go”, he recalls.
When he arrived at the recruitment centre, there were already too many people. There was nowhere to sleep. He was issued a uniform and sent home, told to return later. That first night, nine people shared four beds, rotating sleep while others stood watch.
“I never second-guessed my choice” Dmytro says. “I knew it was my responsibility to protect my homeland, my family and my people.”
For him, civilian life was no longer an option. He explained that the existence of a frontline, where people were dying every day, made the idea of continuing life as before feel morally impossible.
“There are moments when it is objectively terrifying,” he admits. “When an enemy drone is flying nearby, I even start to believe in God.” What keeps him going after all this time is not adrenaline but as a combat medic, he sees the impact his work makes. His brigade has suffered a minimal number of casualties, something he connects directly to planning, training and logistics. He designs evacuation plans down to the smallest detail, ensures vehicles are stocked with proper medical equipment and provides extensive medical training to fellow soldiers.
“I like to achieve things,” he says. “When I see that someone comes back alive from a mission because I planned their evacuation, stocked the vehicles properly, trained the unit, that keeps me going.”
When asked about the role civic identity played in his decision, he said that civic identity is inseparable from action. He speaks less about rights and more about responsibility.
“I believe in basic values, fairness, and truth,” he explains. “If you are a man, you have to prove it through your actions. Patriotism and honour are not words.”
Loving one’s country, in his view, does not mean accepting its failures. If something is broken, whether in government, institutions, or the military, it must be changed.
“I don’t want to come back from war and see that everything stayed the same,” he says. “We need change.”
Even amid constant Russian attacks, Ukrainians continue to demonstrate a deep commitment to a pro-democracy civil society. Ukraine consciously chose a democratic path, and despite the strains of war, the country persists in building resilient institutions and reinforcing democratic governance. The summer 2025 “Cardboard Maidan” protest emerged in response to a high-profile corruption scandal involving a close advisor to Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy and the resignation that followed. This protest and subsequent cabinet reshufflings highlight how public pressure and demands for accountability continue to shape political decision-making in Ukraine, even in the midst of war. These events demonstrate that Ukrainian civil society remains active and engaged, insisting on transparency and reform while the state simultaneously fights for national survival.
Dmytro’s experience on the frontlines reflects the same sense of civic responsibility. His commitment to serve, improve systems within his unit, and protect his comrades resonates with the broader determination of Ukrainians to defend not only their territory, but also the democratic values and institutions they have worked so hard to build.
Life at the Front: Environment and Morale
Life at the front is defined by simplicity and scarcity. Routine is dictated by opportunity, not preference. “If you have a chance to do your laundry, you do your laundry,” Dima says. “Because the next chance might be in a month.” Units often stay in abandoned houses. They take care of the property and of the animals left behind. Dogs and cats are fed before soldiers worry about themselves. “It’s funny sometimes,” he smiles. “We might be able to eat very little for a few days, but the pets must be taken care of.”
The army has reshaped his understanding of human nature. Age, once synonymous with authority, no longer guarantees respect. “I used to think age gives wisdom,” he reflects. “Now I know that only actions do.”
Despite constant danger, Dima does not feel that his life is on hold. He does not plan far ahead for a future after demobilization, not because he lacks hope, but because his focus is anchored firmly in the present. “My life is here,” he says. “I want to be useful to my team.”
He continues to make plans for improving systems within his unit, refining processes and improving the quality of life for his comrades. The war has made him stronger and more resilient, but it has also sharpened his understanding of what matters. He sees his family approximately thirty days a year and the distance has reordered his priorities. “Before, I avoided family time,” he admits. “Now I know my family is my home.”
Fear is constant, but it is contextualized. “You can be afraid now under a Ukrainian flag,” he says, “or later under an occupation flag, forced to fight on their side.”
When asked about the challenges soldiers face and the support available to them, Dmytro reflects on the growing emotional and psychological toll of the war. After years of continuous fighting, fatigue is setting in, and the weight of that responsibility is becoming harder to carry. While soldiers remain deeply committed to their mission, they also recognize that they deserve stronger systems of care in return, especially when it comes to mental health support. He further reflects:
“The work is difficult, and there are psychological supports offered, but we are lacking a systemic approach to mental health for both soldiers and veterans. There are simply too many people and individual support is hard to provide. It’s also not normalized to ask for help. What has helped me personally is physical activity and maintaining a good nutrition routine. We sometimes have presentations or webinars about breathing techniques or wellness tips, but there isn’t consistent one-on-one support.”
The War Beyond the Ukrainian Trench: International Support and Its Limitations
From the frontline, international support is not an abstract policy debate.
“Definitely, you can feel the support from Western countries at a systemic level, through additional education, training and supplies,” Dima says. “As a combat medic, I would not be able to do my job without Western support.” At the same time, he is acutely aware of its limits. Assistance often arrives slowly, entangled in bureaucracy, disconnected from the immediacy of frontline needs. “War is expensive,” he says. “You need a lot, in large quantities, and ideally you needed it yesterday and not in two months.” Because of these delays, individual soldiers and units frequently organize personal fundraisers to improve their chances of survival. Our past piece on Civilian Frontlines: Drones, Fundraising, and Evolving Military Policy unpack the role informal fundraising plays out on the Ukrainian battlefield.
Dima spends much of his salary ensuring his unit is properly equipped. He does not have savings for civilian life. “I spend my salary so that me and my comrades come back alive,” he says. His battalion has a CASEVAC vehicle. Many others do not. From his perspective, there is often no systemic understanding of what is urgently required on the ground.
General geopolitical narratives also shape morale. He recalls how speculation abroad about quick diplomatic solutions led some soldiers to relax, a dangerous illusion. “If you relax on the frontline, you are dead,” he says. “Or your comrade is dead. That’s the reality.”
Dima believes many countries underestimate Russia because they have never experienced its occupation or repression firsthand. “A lot of the world doesn’t understand what kind of evil Russia is,” he says. “They’ve never had direct contact with occupation.” At the same time, reliance on Western support should not replace internal responsibility. Ukraine, he argues, must continue working toward self-sufficiency. “We can’t wait for someone to come and save us,” he says. “We need education and training early, so people are ready to show their love for the country through action.”
Recruitment, Mobilization and the Weight of Reality
According to Dmytro, recruitment and mobilization remain deeply flawed. War, he argues, is often romanticized, while the reality is left unspoken. “We need a healthy approach to recruitment,” he says. “And from early on, we need to teach young people about responsibility as citizens of Ukraine.” He is blunt about demographic reality: young, healthy people are needed at the front. A fully professional contract army is a goal, but not a current reality during a full-scale invasion. “We are not close to winning this war,” he says. “The government needs to explain that protection of the homeland comes through military service.” He also points to systemic issues inside the army: recognition that does not always reflect contribution, bureaucracy that resists innovation and tensions between volunteers and career military personnel.
“The full-scale invasion showed how two different worlds met,” he explains. “Volunteers came with creativity and initiative, while career military often do everything strictly by the book. But the frontline changes fast. We need new solutions.” Many talented people from civilian fields are now in uniform, trying to improve systems while navigating internal resistance. “For volunteers, rules are sometimes more flexible,” he says. “But internal battles with bureaucracy still exist.” For him personally, financial incentives or benefits were never a consideration. “I wasn’t thinking about money when I joined,” he says. “My role is to implement changes that can save lives or health.”
Dmytro also reflected on how gender continues to shape realities on the frontline. “Throughout my service, I have seen women occupy a wide range of roles, from frontline positions to more supportive ones, and many of them demonstrate remarkable courage, strength, and resilience, often exceeding that of their male counterparts. One challenge I have observed is the assumption that the combat medic role is inherently more suitable for women because it is associated with healthcare. In reality, the position is extremely demanding. A significant part of the role involves physically evacuating wounded soldiers from frontline positions, who are often much larger in size, requiring specific physical capacities.
There are, of course, many stereotypes about women in the military, most of which are still perpetuated by older career personnel. At the same time, I have served alongside many women who are exceptionally strong and capable, while continuing to carry their femininity within an environment that remains deeply masculine and physically demanding.”
Rethinking Victory
When asked what victory means, Dima rejects the term entirely.
“We should ban the word ‘victory,’” he says. “It has a positive connotation, but what happened to us, especially to people in occupied territories, is a tragedy.” For him, the end goal is not celebration, but accountability. “The collapse of the Russian Federation would not bring back lost lives,” he says. “But at least we could say that, at a heavy price, we defeated evil.”
Narratives about victory are often amplified through social media in Ukraine and sometimes presented as morale-boosting policies by the government. However, when asked whether he feels a disconnect from civilians during short breaks in areas far from the frontlines, Dmytro is quick to acknowledge that civilians will never fully understand a soldier’s experience simply because they have never been there. It is a particular type of “situated experience,” as Donna Haraway defines it. He says you cannot put yourself in the shoes of a soldier and that it is okay. You do not need frontline combat experience to show empathy. What Ukrainians are lacking, he believes, is basic respect for people in uniform and for soldiers.
Dmytro is clear that soldiers deserve understanding and recognition from civilians, but he is even more demanding of the government. In his view, the state owes them guarantees of a decent life after demobilization and meaningful support in return for everything they have done to preserve Ukraine’s sovereignty. He is honest about the challenges ahead, including reintegration, PTSD, and other psychological struggles, and he stresses that society should already be preparing to welcome soldiers back and help them rehabilitate. He firmly believes that as strong as Ukrainian society is, there is still a lot of work to do, starting with improving access to medical services, resources, and knowledge about what support exists.
When asked about the scariest experience he has had, Dmytro described the first time he truly felt that death was close. During a massive attack by Russian forces, he ran toward a trench and heard a mine explode right behind him. He still does not understand how he survived. That moment, he says, made him realize just how fragile life on the frontline can be. While the Ukrainian government has not officially disclosed the number of soldiers who were not as lucky as Dmytro and were killed in action, some estimates put the loss at around 140,000. Many Ukrainian soldiers remain in Russian captivity, a situation that requires urgent attention from the international community and sustained efforts to secure their release.
At the time of this writing, Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine has surpassed the length of the Soviet Union’s war against Nazi Germany. Dmytro’s story is not unique. The resilience of Ukraine rests in the hands of people like him who answered the call to serve their country, carrying not only the weight of the battlefield but the hopes of an entire nation. Their courage should serve as a reminder to us all that the values of freedom, human rights, and democracy are often inseparable from the willingness to defend them on the battlefield.