The terrible cost of Russia’s continuing assault on Ukraine is viscerally clear at a military rehabilitation center on the outskirts of this city. Soldiers there describe how their bodies were shattered on the front lines. And they’re the lucky ones who survived.
Alexei was trying to hold his position at Pokrovsk, the scene of some of this year’s heaviest fighting, when a drone dropped a grenade near him. His left leg and right hand were nearly severed, attached by thin threads of tissue but now mended. Nikolai lost his left leg in Kharkiv, another Russian target. He waited 18 hours to be evacuated because of drone attacks. Dima lost both legs when his vehicle was hit by a drone in Pokrovsk. The four soldiers traveling with him were killed.
I met these wounded soldiers at a recovery center funded by a Ukrainian businessman named Victor Pinchuk, one of 15 similar facilities he has established around the country. Like soldiers everywhere, they’re kids, with sleeves of tattoos and T-shirts promoting heavy metal bands. But they got old in a hurry. Talking with a half-dozen of them Friday, I heard the same grim account of what’s at stake in this war. As Alexei put it: “We don’t have a choice. If we stop fighting, we’ll stop existing.”
Listening to their stories, you realize that Ukraine is bleeding out. Its will to fight is as strong as ever, but its army is exhausted by a ceaseless drone war that’s unlike anything in the history of combat. The Biden administration’s rubric of support — “as long as it takes” — simply doesn’t match the reality of this conflict. Ukraine doesn’t have enough soldiers to fight an indefinite war of attrition. It needs to escalate to be strong enough to reach a decent settlement.
That’s the lesson I took from a visit here to attend a conference sponsored by Pinchuk’s group YES, which stands for Yalta European Strategy. It was founded 20 years ago to encourage Ukraine’s integration with the West. Now it’s trying to prevent the country’s destruction. The title of the meeting was “The Necessity to Win.” But the underlying message was that, without more firepower, Ukraine might be forced to settle on Vladimir Putin’s terms to halt his brutal onslaught.
The YES gathering was unlike any conference I’ve attended. It was a Davos-like meeting of prominent politicians and diplomats, featuring a passionate address by President Volodymyr Zelensky. But on the wall behind the speakers was a grim display of snapshots of dozens of dead soldiers — some bright-eyed, others haggard, all of them gone. And the most powerful presentations weren’t from the big shots but from soldiers who had come in from the front.
“We are tired,” said a drone unit commander named Serhii Varakin, who has been fighting Russian aggression in eastern Ukraine for more than eight years. His face, ringed with fatigue, was a portrait of the stress of relentless combat. The conference’s most emotional moment came when this hardened warrior told the audience: “I should have had a family, wonderful children, taking pictures by the barbecue, but now I take pictures on the front line.” The prolonged applause brought tears to Varakin’s eyes.
During a break from the conference, I visited a Ukrainian friend named Sergiy Koshman, a free-wheeling intellectual from Kharkiv and onetime civil society activist. Now he’s working to design weapons. At our last meeting, a few months after Russia’s full-scale invasion, he had described an almost giddy sense of national solidarity, with young activists talking about a mountaintop festival to defy Russian threats of using tactical nuclear weapons. But that mood has changed.
“We thought that once we showed solidarity, Russia would back off,” he told me. “Now it seems the war could last for decades.” He described a “radicalization” of intellectual life, in which the core principle had become: “We have to kill as many Russians as possible and find innovative ways to do it.” The war has transformed the country. “It’s so kinetic, when ballistic missiles are raining down on you daily. It’s a different reality.”
This cultural mood was vividly embodied by a soldier named Yarnya Chornohus. She’s a poet when she isn’t at the front, and she was a striking presence onstage: movie-star beautiful, with a snake tattooed on her right arm, the fangs open at her wrist, and the Ukrainian military emblem on her left arm. She said she had instructed her daughter to be ready to fight someday. As a poet, she said, she had learned the power of her verse comes from her experience of war.
A recurring theme of the conference was that President Joe Biden should remove current limits on Ukraine’s use of American ATACMS long-range missiles to strike deep into Russia. A procession of speakers said Biden should stop worrying about the danger of Russian escalation — and implied he was weak for even considering the issue. That strikes me as wrong; a primary responsibility of any American president is to avoid war with a nuclear superpower.
But I came away from the conference thinking the United States should take more risks to help Ukraine. It matters how this war ends. If Putin prevails, it will harm the interests of America and Europe for decades.
“I have no announcement to make” on the ATACMS issue, national security adviser Jake Sullivan said in a video interview with the group. That’s fine with me. Don’t announce anything. Leave Putin guessing. But if Russia’s surge continues, Putin’s bases within ATACMS range should be legitimate targets. He’s the one crossing the “red line” every day he continues his unprovoked aggression.
Zelensky, clad as always in a green combat shirt, said the proper range for U.S.-supplied weapons should be “long enough to act as a game changer and make Russia seek peace.” He’ll meet Biden in a week in New York to make that plea in person. I hope Biden says yes, privately.
If Zelensky is wise, he’ll bring along Oleksander Budko, a wounded veteran who spoke to the YES group. Though he lost both of his legs in combat, the boyishly handsome Budko was recently chosen as “Ukraine’s most desirable man” on a national television show. That’s the spirit that sustains Ukraine in this dark moment, and it’s moving to see.
But it’s not sentimentality that underlies deeper American support for Ukraine, but U.S. national interest.
Washington Post
