Soldiers dig in in eastern Ukraine’s trench for ‘all-out war’

In a trench in the Donbass region of Ukraine, Dima admits that it took him some time to get used to the noise of war, living with his comrades and the flies everywhere.

Now the 25-year-old soldier with the easygoing smile is quietly confident and says all is well despite the constant boom in artillery.

His nickname “Moryak” (sailor) is scrawled on his uniform, along with the slogans used by soldiers in war: “Born to Hunt” and “Si vis pacum para bellum” (If you want peace, prepare for the war ahead).

After serving at the front in the Sumy and Kharkiv regions of northern Ukraine, Dima was deployed to a position in the Izyum region.

This part of the front line is northwest of Kramatorsk, the administrative center of the Donbass, an industrial region that Russian troops are trying to conquer.

Since his arrival, Dima has been digging in the black earth – like everyone else in his unit.

Their ditch is several tens of meters long – a labyrinth littered with shovels and pickaxes and underground shelters where the men sleep.

“We hide when they shoot, we dig when there’s no wind,” says Dima.

Russian troops are only a few kilometers away.

“No pasaran!” shouted the unit leader, Ahil, a veteran soldier with few words.

When asked how many men are in the unit, he replies, “The number we need.”

The situation? “It could be worse”. Weapons? “We never have enough”. Moral? “Good”.

Ahil says he has been fighting in Donbass since 2014, when Russian-backed separatists first took control of part of the territory.

He believes that the situation is completely different now.

“It’s total war today,” says the soldier, hoping “to rest when it’s all over.”

“If I get that far,” he adds.

Before bidding farewell to a group of journalists, Ahil removes his helmet to reveal a shaved head save for a large tuft of hair on one side.

“It’s a Cossack haircut. It fits the moment,” he laughs.

This part of the front line has been one of the busiest since Russia invaded on February 24, but has calmed down in recent weeks as Russian troops try to advance elsewhere.

“That place was one of the bloodiest,” admits “Grizzly,” another commander with a beard and tattoos who wears a wool hat despite the heat.

“The previous unit lost a lot of men. Up to 40 percent of them stay here forever,” he says.

Dima also saw how his comrades fell in battle.

“Of course it’s sad when it happens to friends with whom you share a life in the trenches.

“But at the same time, it motivates you even more to remove those bastards that no one wants here,” he says

When asked if he’s thinking about death, he replies, “Of course, I regularly think that maybe it’s my last cup of tea or the last time I go to bed.”

Outside the ditch, the countryside stretches out in a landscape that would be magnificent were it not for the vast burned fields.

Duds lie on the cratered streets lined with burned-out vehicles.

Some rare military vehicles can be seen. A T-72 tank throws up a cloud of rocks and dust as it turns.

A few kilometers back is the brigade headquarters in an abandoned farm.

Chickens roam the ruins, a cat sleeps in an abandoned chair, and bees fly from their unkempt hives.

In the yard lies a Tochka-U missile.

At the top of a small flight of stairs, the officer in charge works in a 15 square meter room full of maps and radios to communicate with the positions.

Three men lie in the dark of the room, staring absently at their phones.

Oleksandr, the officer, a cheerful 34-year-old man, says the situation is “under control”.

“We’ve been here since the end of April and after several attempts by the enemy to advance, we are, kilometer after kilometer.”

The goal? “Total Victory”. When asked if he could imagine a ceasefire, he replies: “No, no, no”.