Ukraine Para Spent 131 Days At Front, But Life Under Russians Was Scarier

Serhii was living with his mother when the Russians invaded in 2022. He remained in his town for some months before escaping. 

But after spending 131 days at the front - mostly by himself - he reports that living under Russian occupation was scarier because of the hostility, drunkenness and unreliability of Russian occupation forces. JL

Yurii Ustymenko reports in Hromadske:

Serhii would spend 131 days alone at a front-line position near Pokrovsk, one of the most fiercely contested sectors of the war. Yet he still considers the eight and a half months he spent under Russian occupation more frightening. He serves in a reconnaissance platoon of Ukraine's 25th Sicheslav Airborne Brigade, part of the 7th Air Assault Corps. He joined the military in late 2024 after receiving his first mobilization notice. He had already experienced what Russian occupation meant. Originally from Ukraine's southern Kherson region, Serhii remained there with his mother after Russia launched its invasion in February 2022. After joining the Airborne, Serhii remained a the front, by himself, for more than four months was not due to a shortage of soldiers to replace him. The terrain and intense Russian drone activity made movement exceptionally dangerous. The unit waited for overcast weather that could limit drone operations. "We were afraid of risking his life,"

He thought they were about to execute him.

In his bag were bread and a carton of cigarettes. He had been bringing supplies from town to a nearby village where people were running out of food.

The Russian soldiers found a number in his passport and demanded to know what secret code it was and who he had passed it to. It was an ordinary identification number. Explaining that to a group of armed men, whose pupils he remembers as unnaturally dilated, proved difficult.

Eventually, a senior officer intervened. He asked whether Serhii had served in the military. Serhii concealed his previous compulsory service, as he had done before. The Russians finally let him go, warning him never to return.

It was one of two occasions when Serhii says Russian soldiers nearly executed him in a field during the occupation of southern Ukraine. 

Years later, he would spend 131 days alone at a front-line position near Pokrovsk, one of the most fiercely contested sectors of the war. Yet he still considers the eight and a half months he spent under Russian occupation more frightening.

"I knew I had to go"

Serhii, 37, uses the callsign Gryphon. He serves in a reconnaissance platoon of Ukraine's 25th Sicheslav Airborne Brigade, part of the 7th Air Assault Corps.

He joined the military in late 2024 after receiving his first mobilization notice.

"Nobody forced me into a van," he says, referring to controversial forced recruitment practices in Ukraine. "I understood that I had to go. Of course, nobody wants to fight. But my turn came, so I went."

• "Of course, no one wants to fight. But it was my turn - so I went," - GryphonProvided by hromadske
• "Of course, no one wants to fight. But it was my turn - so I went," - GryphonProvided by hromadske

He had already experienced what Russian occupation meant.

Originally from Ukraine's southern Kherson region, Serhii remained there with his mother after Russia launched its full-scale invasion in February 2022. His sister escaped with her young child from the occupied town of Oleshky to Ukrainian-controlled territory.

Serhii was afraid to take his mother through Russian-controlled Crimea.

Then a strike hit a walnut tree in their yard. Russian soldiers arrived and ordered everyone out of their village within 72 hours.

Serhii and his mother fled from Barvinok to nearby Kyselivka, where they remained until Ukrainian forces liberated the western bank of the Kherson region in November 2022.

He remembers one particularly surreal moment as Russian troops were retreating. After spending a week drinking in the fields, several soldiers went to a village shop for more alcohol.

The shopkeeper, a woman everyone called Aunt Nadia, greeted them:

"That's it, boys. You're finished. Glory to Ukraine."

Ukrainian soldiers were already standing around the shop, smiling. The Russians dropped their weapons and surrendered.

"It seems that no one but the Ukrainians can stop them," — GryphonProvided by hromadske

A mission that became 131 days

Serhii's first combat deployment as an airborne reconnaissance soldier, in early 2025, lasted 33 days. His unit took part in operations to retake Kotlyne, a village in eastern Ukraine's Donetsk region.

The unit completed its mission without losses, he recalls.

In April, his group moved toward Lysivka, a village southeast of Pokrovsk. The terrain and poor radio coverage made drone operations and logistics difficult.

Their task was to observe Russian positions and conduct short assaults when ordered, withdrawing quickly rather than becoming trapped in prolonged fighting.

• "I did something — at least a little — to make Ukraine fight," — GryphonProvided by hromadske
• "I did something — at least a little — to make Ukraine fight," — GryphonProvided by hromadske

In April, his group moved toward Lysivka, a village southeast of Pokrovsk. The terrain and poor radio coverage made drone operations and logistics difficult.

Their task was to observe Russian positions and conduct short assaults when ordered, withdrawing quickly rather than becoming trapped in prolonged fighting.

Learning to listen to silence

"We were on edge," recalls his commander, who uses the callsign Miesnyi. "He was there alone. When you know there's someone beside you whom you can rely on, someone who will wake you up if you fall asleep, that's one thing. He didn't have that."

Sleeping was dangerous. But exhaustion sometimes overwhelmed Serhii, and he would lose consciousness for hours.

"Once, I was out for three and a half hours," he recalls. "Anything could have happened. Maybe one of them was already sitting there listening to me snore."

• “When you know that there is a person nearby who you can rely on — that you will fall asleep, and they will wake you up, and nothing will happen… And he was without that,” — Serhii's CommanderProvided by hromadske
• “When you know that there is a person nearby who you can rely on — that you will fall asleep, and they will wake you up, and nothing will happen… And he was without that,” — Serhii's CommanderProvided by hromadske

He learned to detect the smallest sounds in the darkness, trying to distinguish human movement from the surrounding silence.

His hearing had been damaged by the explosions. For a time, he could barely hear through his right ear and relied on his left.

Food deliveries did not always reach him. His fellow soldiers sometimes shouted into the radio simply to remind him that he was not alone.

"You can experience more in one hour on the front line than someone else does during an entire war," Serhii says.

His commander insists the reason Serhii remained there for more than four months was not a shortage of soldiers to replace him.

The terrain and intense Russian drone activity made movement exceptionally dangerous. The unit waited for overcast weather that could limit drone operations.

"We were afraid of risking his life," Miesnyi says. "Getting him out quickly but losing him along the way wasn't an option."

Twenty kilometers to safety

Serhii finally left his position on Aug. 22, 2025.

Getting out took two days.

He had to cross open ground under Russian drones and later move through a drainage pipe at night. He knew the route but was so exhausted that he could barely walk.

"You can go through more in one hour at ground zero than someone can in a lifetime of war." — GryphonProvided by hromadske

A small group was sent to meet him.

"The guys were holding me up by my arms, helping me," he recalls. "They said, 'Gryphon, you're supposed to be leading us.' I said, 'I am, but I've got no strength left.'"

The group covered 20 kilometers (12 miles) in a day.

They sheltered beneath trees while Russian drones passed overhead, sometimes only three or four minutes apart. They ran, dropped to the ground, waited and ran again until they reached an evacuation vehicle.

His comrades told him to take off his helmet.

Serhii could hardly believe he was finally safe.

Over the 131 days he had spent at the position, the landscape had changed around him. Vegetation had grown, blossomed and dried out. On his way back, he barely recognized the terrain.

He survived without severe physical wounds, although he had suffered blast-related injuries. His sight and hearing eventually recovered without surgery.

A fellow soldier with the callsign Shakespeare, a former English teacher from Vinnytsia who spent 102 days at the same position, was astonished by the account of Serhii's evacuation.

"His adventures were like all of mine multiplied by two," Shakespeare says.

He describes Gryphon as the life of the group.

"He's the kind of person who walks into your room when you're feeling down, and 60 seconds later you're laughing uncontrollably. Everyone should have a comrade like him."

"This is a person who can always cheer you up. A brother who everyone should have," - Serhii's fellow soldier, callsign ShakespeareProvided by hromadske

"When Putin comes knocking"

Serhii does not enjoy talking about his experiences as acts of heroism.

When asked what he would say to Ukrainians who have not joined the military, he recalls what he witnessed under Russian occupation: a gun held against his mother's forehead, bodies along evacuation routes and the eyes of drunken Russian soldiers.

"When 'Uncle Putin' comes knocking on your door, that's scarier than being on the front line," he says. "I know. I've lived under occupation."

He believes fear and panic are natural responses to war. At some point, physical strength runs out, leaving only determination and the reasons a person has to keep going.

Serhii now reads books about combat stress, psychological trauma and the effects of blast injuries, trying to understand what he has experienced and how to live with it.

"I don't really want to tell these stories. And certainly not to show off," he says. "I wanted very badly to live. And there are people I'm here for."

Trained as a historian, he is now preparing to use that background in the 7th Air Assault Corps' military education and morale-support service, sharing both Ukraine's history and his own experiences with fellow soldiers.

"I constantly listen to people who know more than I do," he says. "Because the military isn't a profession where you can afford to learn from your own mistakes."