{"id":2459,"date":"2026-02-24T11:48:38","date_gmt":"2026-02-24T16:48:38","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/carleton.ca\/eetn\/?p=2459"},"modified":"2026-02-24T12:17:30","modified_gmt":"2026-02-24T17:17:30","slug":"i-never-gave-myself-a-choice-ukrainian-combat-medic-on-war-responsibility-and-freedom","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/carleton.ca\/eetn\/2026\/i-never-gave-myself-a-choice-ukrainian-combat-medic-on-war-responsibility-and-freedom\/","title":{"rendered":"“I Never Gave Myself a Choice”: A Ukrainian Combat Medic on War, Responsibility and Freedom"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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\n “I Never Gave Myself a Choice”: A Ukrainian Combat Medic on War, Responsibility and Freedom\n <\/h1>\n \n \n\n

Valeriia Gusieva<\/p>\n\n\n <\/header>\n <\/div>\n\n <\/div>\n\n \n\n <\/div>\n<\/section>\n\n\n\n

Disclaimer: This profile is based on an extended interview conducted with a serving member of the Armed Forces of Ukraine. The soldier\u2019s name and call sign are used with consent.<\/em> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dmytro, known by his nom de guerre \u201cStudent,\u201d has spent the past three years in uniform. He joined the Armed Forces of Ukraine on February 24, 2022, the first day of Russia\u2019s 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. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI woke up to the siren and my first thought was that I already knew where to go\u201d, he recalls. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI never second-guessed my choice\u201d Dmytro says. \u201cI knew it was my responsibility to protect my homeland, my family and my people.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere are moments when it is objectively terrifying,\u201d he admits. \u201cWhen an enemy drone is flying nearby, I even start to believe in God.\u201d 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. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI like to achieve things,\u201d he says. \u201cWhen 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.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI believe in basic values, fairness, and truth,\u201d he explains. \u201cIf you are a man, you have to prove it through your actions. Patriotism and honour are not words.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Loving one\u2019s 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. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t want to come back from war and see that everything stayed the same,\u201d he says. \u201cWe need change.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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 \u201cCardboard Maidan\u201d<\/a> 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. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dmytro\u2019s 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. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Life at the Front: Environment and Morale <\/h4>\n\n\n\n

Life at the front is defined by simplicity and scarcity. Routine is dictated by opportunity, not preference. \u201cIf you have a chance to do your laundry, you do your laundry,\u201d Dima says. \u201cBecause the next chance might be in a month.\u201d 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. \u201cIt\u2019s funny sometimes,\u201d he smiles. \u201cWe might be able to eat very little for a few days, but the pets must be taken care of.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The army has reshaped his understanding of human nature. Age, once synonymous with authority, no longer guarantees respect. \u201cI used to think age gives wisdom,\u201d he reflects. \u201cNow I know that only actions do.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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. \u201cMy life is here,\u201d he says. \u201cI want to be useful to my team.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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. \u201cBefore, I avoided family time,\u201d he admits. \u201cNow I know my family is my home.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fear is constant, but it is contextualized. \u201cYou can be afraid now under a Ukrainian flag,\u201d he says, \u201cor later under an occupation flag, forced to fight on their side.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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: <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe 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\u2019s 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\u2019t consistent one-on-one support.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The War Beyond the Ukrainian Trench: International Support and Its Limitations <\/h4>\n\n\n\n

From the frontline, international support is not an abstract policy debate. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDefinitely, you can feel the support from Western countries at a systemic level, through additional education, training and supplies,\u201d Dima says. \u201cAs a combat medic, I would not be able to do my job without Western support.\u201d 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. \u201cWar is expensive,\u201d he says. \u201cYou need a lot, in large quantities, and ideally you needed it yesterday and not in two months.\u201d 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. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dima spends much of his salary ensuring his unit is properly equipped. He does not have savings for civilian life. \u201cI spend my salary so that me and my comrades come back alive,\u201d 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. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

General geopolitical narratives also shape morale. He recalls how speculation abroad about quick diplomatic solutions led some soldiers to relax, a dangerous illusion. \u201cIf you relax on the frontline, you are dead,\u201d he says. \u201cOr your comrade is dead. That\u2019s the reality.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dima believes many countries underestimate Russia because they have never experienced its occupation or repression firsthand. \u201cA lot of the world doesn\u2019t understand what kind of evil Russia is,\u201d he says. \u201cThey\u2019ve never had direct contact with occupation.\u201d At the same time, reliance on Western support should not replace internal responsibility. Ukraine, he argues, must continue working toward self-sufficiency. \u201cWe can\u2019t wait for someone to come and save us,\u201d he says. \u201cWe need education and training early, so people are ready to show their love for the country through action.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Recruitment, Mobilization and the Weight of Reality <\/h4>\n\n\n\n

According to Dmytro, recruitment and mobilization remain deeply flawed. War, he argues, is often romanticized, while the reality is left unspoken. \u201cWe need a healthy approach to recruitment,\u201d he says. \u201cAnd from early on, we need to teach young people about responsibility as citizens of Ukraine.\u201d 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. \u201cWe are not close to winning this war,\u201d he says. \u201cThe government needs to explain that protection of the homeland comes through military service.\u201d 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. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe full-scale invasion showed how two different worlds met,\u201d he explains. \u201cVolunteers came with creativity and initiative, while career military often do everything strictly by the book. But the frontline changes fast. We need new solutions.\u201d Many talented people from civilian fields are now in uniform, trying to improve systems while navigating internal resistance. \u201cFor volunteers, rules are sometimes more flexible,\u201d he says. \u201cBut internal battles with bureaucracy still exist.\u201d For him personally, financial incentives or benefits were never a consideration. \u201cI wasn\u2019t thinking about money when I joined,\u201d he says. \u201cMy role is to implement changes that can save lives or health.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dmytro also reflected on how gender continues to shape realities on the frontline. \u201cThroughout 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. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rethinking Victory <\/h4>\n\n\n\n

When asked what victory means, Dima rejects the term entirely. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe should ban the word \u2018victory,\u2019\u201d he says. \u201cIt has a positive connotation, but what happened to us, especially to people in occupied territories, is a tragedy.\u201d For him, the end goal is not celebration, but accountability. \u201cThe collapse of the Russian Federation would not bring back lost lives,\u201d he says. \u201cBut at least we could say that, at a heavy price, we defeated evil.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u2019s experience simply because they have never been there. It is a particular type of \u201csituated experience,\u201d<\/a> 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.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u2019s 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. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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<\/a>. Many Ukrainian soldiers remain in Russian captivity, a situation that requires urgent attention from the international community and sustained efforts to secure their release. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the time of this writing, Russia\u2019s full-scale invasion of Ukraine has surpassed the length of the Soviet Union\u2019s war against Nazi Germany. Dmytro\u2019s 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.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Dmytro, known by his nom de guerre \u201cStudent,\u201d has spent the past three years in uniform. He joined the Armed Forces of Ukraine on February 24, 2022, the first day of Russia\u2019s 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. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":375,"featured_media":2460,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[84,126,83],"tags":[106,124,42,43,78],"class_list":["post-2459","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-european-security","category-human-rights","category-ukraine","tag-european-security","tag-human-rights","tag-russia","tag-ukraine","tag-war-in-ukraine"],"acf":{"cu_post_thumbnail":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/carleton.ca\/eetn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2459","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/carleton.ca\/eetn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/carleton.ca\/eetn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/carleton.ca\/eetn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/375"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/carleton.ca\/eetn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2459"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/carleton.ca\/eetn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2459\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2462,"href":"https:\/\/carleton.ca\/eetn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2459\/revisions\/2462"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/carleton.ca\/eetn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2460"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/carleton.ca\/eetn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2459"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/carleton.ca\/eetn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2459"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/carleton.ca\/eetn\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2459"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}