The Ukrainian War: Through A Russian's Eyes Poem by Gert Strydom

A Russian soldier on 22 September 2022 mobilized,
tells his friend of his experiences and much more:
how at first from a telephone call he had been surprised,
during the occupation in the Ukrainian war.

Chorus:
They sent us straight into hell
and wounded I made it back,
everywhere there was death's smell:
we did food, ammo and water lack,

to pack what was needed he was advised:
he did not know what lay in store:
like an adventure it was advertised,
dumbstruck he took some clothing from a drawer.

He did not really take it seriously
it's like a tale out of an old dusty tome:
I had no clue they were going to mobilize me.
At 6 A.M. they called to ask if I am home.

Some people were drunk as we gathered.
At 1 P.M. we left and were driving for six hours,
that it was a poor driver to some people mattered:
they did beat him up as if it them empowers:

'Churka, ' they derogatory called him.
In anger he shouted: 'who is Churka here? '
The situation was both funny and grim:
things happened that did no one with each other endear:

Men were for three hours beating each other,
later it was hilarious when we all arrived drunk,
we did in disrespect the military and commander bother
no one followed orders but all of us got a bunk.

We got equipment, were there for six days.
Just one day was dedicated to learning to shoot,
we learnt tactics for four hours: no one did orders obey.
It was superficial: no one was astute.

Videos were posted of old rusty rifles:
posting this made them switch equipment very fast,
where to them it was insignificant trifles
and on a Boeing, not a military plane, the forward travel was unsurpassed.

We travelled to Rostov to be trained for 21 days
before going to the front but a fat Colonel waited us in,
screamed: 'you drunkards! ' cursed in many ways,
said that the real hard training will now begin.

At the base there was KAMAZ vehicles:
into them our things went: I thought something was wrong,
at the fence people passed staring on bicycles,
without proper training we did to a military unit belong.

We were ordered to remove SIM-cards,
we were travelling for 8 hours to the Donetsk Oblast
and arrived while it was dark, were treated like retards:
were left in a forest and away the KAMAZ passed.

All the officers did quickly disappear,
while we were left to do whatever we want:
we settled in tents while no other soldiers was near
but a fat old colonel that was the camp-commandant.

A guy dropped dead while picking up his bag:
he had a stroke. We settled and the fat colonel returned,
with him was a more obese major general that did at us nag,
he had a big stomach and seemed unconcerned.

The general said we were to be trained,
that we could for anything rely on him.
In fact we were to the forest constrained,
20 kilometres from the frontline and it was grim.

We were from Sminykh and Poroaysk gathered in groups,
where for 7 days we chilled with some drinks.
A lieutenant colonel inspected us as elite troops,
to that day with joy a person thinks.

At boxes we were for ten minutes firing away,
when an officer arrived and told us to wrap it up and go.
We had training: about using tourniquets on one day,
did nothing else about medical treatment know.

We were yelled awake: "the Ukraine knows where you are! '
That we will face an air-strike, we were told.
We gathered at the KAMAZ and did not move far:
just about four kilometres and it were winter and icy-cold.

Our tents were taken and we were going to the frontline.
We were stunned, as about fighting we did know nothing.
With Promedol they did our fear and senses undermine,
they said: 'It does not matter: you do not need to know a thing.'

A KAMAZ arrived and we went to Solodke in Ukraine
and there we saw many graves, which was horrible.
At a kindergarten every thing was smashed in the campaign:
nothing was undamaged, that place was deplorable.

We walked 5 kilometres in the wood,
where at night Ukrainian drones did fly,
we only rifles had and the danger understood:
there were no tanks, IFV's and one MT-LB on to rely:

for evacuation and bringing water and food.
as we reached a wind-break the Ukraine was busy with shelling,
our artillery returned fire but it was mostly not good:
as if something was doom on us compelling.

In the forest people carried dead troops,
used raincoats and some tents to do so
and we were together in small groups.
The officers did for hiding into the town's basements away go.

Even the contract-soldiers never did their commander see.
We were 300 meters from a Ukrainian force,
about what made them up, we could not agree,
as contract soldiers from behind did reinforce.

The Ukraine had drones, mortars, artillery
and a tank and we had one MT-LB as transport.
We thought they had NATO, Nazi's and a kind of mercenary:
a Foreign Legion to which they did resort.

We received water and food once in three days only,
did at the very outset not of this know.
We made trenches and felt exposed and lonely,
did there hide as a drone passed: it could damage bestow,

or get coordinates, had thermal imaging.
From our right Ukraine started to attack,
with a heavy-machine-gun our guys did their thing.
The Ukrainians started circling, did not fall back,

we fired into the ground and up into the sky,
the contract-soldiers were with us very angry,
believed with us that soon they will die
and someone fired at the Ukrainians with a RPG.

After that it was quiet for a while
but that drone did again return:
did coordinates for their artillery compile,
their mortars and guns did to shelling turn.

Everything was flying into our trenches,
right next to me a guy was immediately killed,
far too accurate this passed our defences,
the Ukrainians were to the utmost skilled.

He was from Alesandrovsk-Sakalinksky,
his name was Nikita and he died on his birthday
and in the trench the deputy platoon leader was with me,
as 35 were wounded he motioned me down to stay.

Another soldier did not reach a foxhole
as mortars hit our trenches several at a time,
shell-fragments damaged his legs and I told him in to roll,
where everywhere there was blood in the grime,

he crawled to me and into the trench I dragged him
and I did a tourniquet to his leg apply,
from tears my sight was at the time dim,
but as on him I worked everything went wry:

another mortar shell exploded very near:
I was stunned saw blood coming from my shoulder,
I felt unsteady, could not a thing hear,
next to me it seemed my hand was separate on a boulder.

I had fear and felt a lot of sudden pain,
thought I had lost my hand could not feel my fingers move
and for a moment I did there in shock remain,
where I dirtier my pants knew I had the situation to improve.

I realised I still had my hand: there was holes
in my glove and blood steaming from it,
the shelling ceased and I noticed no Ukrainian patrols,
the deputy platoon leader did a tourniquet to my wrist fit,

all my fingers but the ring finger moved,
the wounded man I helped was lying over me,
as the dust settled my sight improved
and from under the wounded man I struggled free.

Here I would bleed to death if I stayed:
it was madness: back to the town I had to run.
Around me I smelled death not to move I was not up to obey,
to the right firing kept a heavy machinegun.

On unsteady legs I tried to race away,
came out of the trenches and after a hundred metres
too heavy weighed the body armour and helmet, the items had to stay
and I was probably loosing blood by litters.

I ran on but then dropped everything but the phone
and the First Aid Kit and I had left the rifle in the trench.
The mortars and shelling started again and I was alone,
did of explosives and death bear a stench.

Covered in blood I kept driving myself on,
I passed men looking at me in great shock,
asked for help and far away the MT-LB was gone,
a soldier did at me his rifle cock.

'There are so many wounded and killed there! '
No one in those trenches wanted to help,
I was going to loose my hand, was of no feeling aware
and finally at the town a small dog did excitedly yelp,

my hand and body was white from the blood I lost,
I thought about my blood type, just in case,
like in a movie the shelling was near and did lives cost
and stumbling still forward I did race,

to a contract soldier with a Jupiter-motorbike,
he realised that I would probably die if he did not give aid.
I realise a pistol in his hand could me down strike:
'Ururu! ' The password I screamed afraid.

He smiled and I could the white of his teeth see,
'I am yours! ' Again I in fear screamed,
his gun was suddenly away and to the bike he steadied me.
we drove to the kindergarten while from me more blood streamed.

I was treated and transported to
Berezovka or Berezovsk, to a hospital.
I though I would loose my hand as it was blue
while against the others my injuries seem little.

As they removed the glove the bone of a finger stood out,
I had three shrapnel fragments in my biceps
and seven in my hand,
a beautiful nurse ordered some men about
when unsteady I could not anymore stand,

with another fragment that pierced my hip,
but there are so many people that came here,
who the army did not train or right equip
and I have lost my possessions and most of my gear.

[Poet's notes: Churka is literally: block of wood.

IFV's are Infantry Fighting Vehicles.

On both You Tube and Facebook the channel 'Insight's from Ukraine and Russia, ' deal with actual recorded smart-phone calls from Russian soldiers to people in Russia as for instance relatives like wives, mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters and girl-friends. This is not propaganda but what is actually being said.

This comes from a radio interview done on behalf of a friend that was broadcasted in Georgia after a conversation with a friend in Russia on the telephone.]
© Gert Strydom