War transports soldiers in armored vehicles.

April 24, 2025, 12:02 PM

• Perspective

Every major victory is the sum of successes and failures in assaulting individual houses, trenches, and bunkers. And each such assault – it's overcoming fear, something that ordinary people sitting on a couch drawing arrows on a map can't even begin to imagine.

Author: Anna Dolgaleva - Poet, War Correspondent

In 2025, the mechanism of warfare is attack drones versus electronic warfare systems. If snipers were once the most effective killers on the battlefield, now it's drone operators. A robot worth tens of thousands of rubles can kill four or five people. However, without human involvement, war cannot continue to progress.

The advancing soldiers push the war forward.

Compared to machines, those inside armored vehicles are surprisingly fragile and vulnerable, but it is these people who seize forest paths and cities. No matter how much artillery fire hits these places, real humans still need to enter enemy trenches and fight against other real humans.

Modern tanks mainly operate from concealed firing positions, no longer advancing directly: if tanks use direct aiming for attacks, then similarly valued drones will quickly burn them down.

Sarcastically, any killing machine created by humans is not as perfect as God's creations.

Advancing is not smooth sailing. From the drop-off point to the battlefield, soldiers must walk fully armed for 10 to 20 kilometers, all while constantly keeping an eye on the sky, because before you pick up your assault rifle, a drone could kill you at any moment.

A friend of mine, Kolyama from the "Ahmat" Special Forces, commanded a six-man team during the battle in Demidovka. He was injured: a bullet pierced his hand, and his abdominal soft tissue was grazed. This is how he recounted that battle:

"We stormed a T-shaped building. As we circled around it, I saw a soldier crouching in a crater. He was wearing our uniform, with a cross on his chest – clearly, he was one of us, a Russian. I only had time to ask him: 'Brother, how are you doing, where are you from?' He just said: 'Marine Corps, 155.' After saying those words, hidden firepower opened fire on us. My companion Izmail and I acted together; one bullet shattered my hand, another penetrated my armored vehicle and grazed my skin. We quickly hid behind a corner, there was a pit, as if it had been dug specifically for the two of us. We fell into that pit while the enemy continued shooting. I assessed my injuries and found them not serious enough to prevent me from moving. So both sides engaged in firefights. We suppressed the enemy's firepower but had to retreat."

The marine who lost too much blood couldn't be saved. When the Ukrainian forces hiding in the building stopped shooting, he was already dead.

Not every strong attack succeeds.

Not every wounded person can be saved.

Not all stories have happy endings.

Most stories of strong attacks won't appear on TV channels: because these stories lack significant achievements and notable results. But every major victory is the sum of successful and failed strong attacks on individual houses, trenches, and bunkers. And each such individual attack – it's overcoming fear, something that ordinary people sitting on a couch drawing arrows on a map can't even begin to imagine. It's dozens of kilograms of flesh and soul, fighting against intense gunfire and hovering drones. Against lead bullets, steel, and electronic devices – just flesh and blood.

Izmail, Kolyama's companion, miraculously escaped death. An enemy bullet shattered the magazine fixed on his armored vehicle, another broke the retention device on his helmet. Yet he himself remained unscathed.

Courage unimaginable in peacetime, luck almost impossible to find in everyday life – like winning the lottery with ten million rubles – occurs here (on the battlefield) tens of times more frequently than in normal life. And it's easy to conclude that war is wonderful. Because it brings out the best in people. Because people face death to protect their comrades. Because someone can return alive after battle – undoubtedly, there seems to be divine protection. Here, divine intervention happens more often than in normal life.

But at the same time, war is also countless failed assaults on a single position. This is equally heroic – but without a happy ending. Would a hero who changed nothing, saved no one, and didn't win the battle be reported by the media? People want stories with happy endings.

What the advancing soldiers experience is not a story, but a path. It's an endless, continuous march, during which you repeatedly confront your inner fears and charge through a hail of bullets.

Sergei Semenov, an outstanding poet from St. Petersburg, went to the battlefield at the end of 2023. He was injured in his first battle. In the hospital, he wrote several heart-stirring poems, possibly among the best works about this war. He returned to duty after recovering and fought for three more weeks, and his current whereabouts are unknown.

This is also war – when a sniper's bullet hits you in your very first battle, when you spend a long time studying and preparing, yet your entire combat career lasts only three weeks. When you sing praises of war, don't forget these things.

The only good thing about war is the people – those hundreds-of-kilograms-of-flesh-and-soul beings inside armored vehicles, who protect far less than they should. There are also volunteers who have fought for years based on their ideals, prisoners, and drunks who signed contracts for reasons unrelated to ideals – they show their best side in another way during war.

Because in war, you may meet God at any moment, so God is very close to you, extremely close.

Original Source: https://www.toutiao.com/article/7496805176183882294/

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