In the trenches outside Kyiv, they wait for the enemy ... and pen poetry
Young Ukrainian volunteer puts his patriotism into verse as his unit guards the capital’s western flank
Strung through miles of frostbound birch woods, the Ukrainian defence lines on Kyiv’s western flank could be something from Flanders or the Argonne in the First World War. Amid trenches and foxholes, squads of soldiers shiver in temperatures of -3C. And as bombs echo in the distance, there are the dulcet sounds of verse – courtesy of a war poet-in-residence.
Andrei Kochar, 23, is his unit’s answer to Siegfried Sassoon, the Royal Welch Fusiliers officer who chronicled life on the Western Front. Until a fortnight ago, he worked as an electrician and wrote romantic poems.
Now, though, having picked up a gun to serve with a defence militia, he writes about the fighting and dying that he and his comrades may face.
“I have always written verse for pleasure, and I even won a couple of local poetry contests here in Kyiv,” he said yesterday, as his unit sipped mugs of steaming tea round an open-air camp table. “My poetry helps me make sense of what is happening, and the rest of my unit listen to it as well.”
Along with dozens of other volunteers from a nearby village, Mr Kochar is now part of Kyiv’s outer line of defence against the Russian forces massing outside the capital. A few miles to the north, the Kremlin’s tanks and artillery have taken the nearby suburb of Irpin, after days of heavy fighting. Coming days, therefore, may well give Mr Kochar and his colleagues their first ever taste of battle.
Unlike Sassoon, who documented the horrors of war in unflinching detail, Mr Kochar’s poetry is staunchly patriotic. Rather than talking about mud, squalor and slaughter, he writes of staunch young soldiers defending mothers and motherland.
That may be partly because the real horrors of conflict are yet to be visited on his unit. But it may also reflect a sense of belief in their cause. Sassoon thought his generals were jingoistic fools waging a pointless war. In Mr Kochar’s poems, that description only applies to the enemy’s commander-inchief, Vladimir Putin. And judging by the recital he gave during The Daily Telegraph’s visit to his unit, he thinks that alone will give Ukraine the edge.
“Tanks moving to the trenches,” went one verse. “And someone shouting ‘Hide now f---ing Ukrainians, I’ll kill you all at once!’ But the Ukrainian soldiers don’t run, and their bullets shoot the enemy.”
Whether the confrontation ahead will be quite as simple as that remains to be seen. But Mr Kochar and his comrades are certainly well dug-in. Their unit, which guards the only route running through a dense forest, is one of dozens designed to slow the Russian advance as much as possible.
As well as makeshift pill boxes, there are sandbags and felled trees, and fox holes lined with petrol bombs. Further into the trees are tank firing points concealed by brushwood. None of the unit has yet fired at a shot in anger, despite Russian rockets occasionally landing not far away. But most are now resigned to whatever lies ahead.
“When we first heard bombs landing during the first couple of days of the war, it was very scary, especially when you have no experience of war,” said Pavil Viliensky, 39, an ebay trader.
“At first people were calling everyday to their wives, but not anymore – now we are calm.”
And did his wife feel the same way? He shook his head. “She is always telling me that I am the father of two children, and that I should not be fighting. But if every father did that, there would be nobody to defend the country, would there?”
A tour of the surrounding villages hints at just why so many people are prepared to stand their ground. Unlike many parts of Kyiv, which is still dominated by crumbling Soviet-era flats, the areas along the western flanks are full of new Scandinavian-style housing. It is a glimpse of the prosperity that has eluded much of Ukraine since the collapse of Communism, and nobody wants it shot to pieces by Russian tanks. While many residents have fled, others insist they will stay put, come what may.
“It’s a bit terrifying here, especially at night with all those explosions,” said Alexandra Politika, 65, a retired engineer, whose three cats – Spot, Mars, and Matilda – now spend most of their time cowering under her sofa.
“At first, I used to spent a lot of time hiding in the basement shelter at the bottom of our flat, but now I don’t really bother. I am just going to sit it out whatever happens – I don’t think the Russians will reach here.”
Neither, though, did residents of nearby Bucha, which neighbours Irpin, and which is now entirely in Russian hands. Tens of thousands of families have fled Bucha in recent days, many of them in convoys decked out with white flags and signs with “Children on board” scrawled on them.
Not every family left intact, however. “My father died in shelling,” said Oleg Koloskov, who arrived in a refugee centre yesterday, after a journey with relatives in a battered red Lada. “We have just spent two weeks hiding in a bomb shelter with no electricity or heating,” he added. “We saw a chance to escape today, so a group of us just formed a convoy of cars and fled, hoping for the best.”
Yet while many spoke of Russian soldiers shooting and shelling at random, some claimed to detect a degree of contrition from the invaders.
Olga Sigankola said she was one of a group of residents stuck in a basement, where it had become so cold they decided they could remain no longer. Eventually, a delegation of mothers approached a Russian checkpoint and demanded to be allowed to pass.
“The Russians gave us food, and said ‘May God go with you’,” she said. “Some of them have been shooting at civilians and cars, but these ones felt guilty that they are even here.”
Meanwhile, back at his unit, the poet Mr Kochar and his comrades were preparing for another freezing night on guard, with -9C expected. That evening, he also sent The Telegraph a video of himself reciting a poem in the trenches. And while the narrative was still one of mighty Ukrainian victories, this time not every mother in the land was spared tears.
“Finally the war is over, the silence is covering the Earth,” he said. “And there’s a woman, sad, who’s standing over a young boy’s body, calling repeatedly the name of her son.”
‘The Russians gave us food, and said “may God go with you”. Some of them have been shooting at civilians but these ones felt guilty’