A Ukraine novelist writes his own soldier story

[David Lockmiller]

"I Spent Five Days in a Trench Waiting for Death. It Was Pure Hell."
New York Times, August 10, 2023

When Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine, I was writing a novel. It took place in America in 1863, and followed a Ukrainian man as he traveled from Virginia to Missouri, meeting on his way various weirdos, soldiers, deserters and runaway slaves. I’ve always been very interested in the history of the United States, and the idea of ​​integrating a Ukrainian protagonist — not a classic emigrant but a soldier on the side of the North, with his own history of servitude under the yoke of the Russian Empire — into the realities of the Civil War was attractive to me.

This story was supposed to become a book, and I was supposed to fulfill my dream: to follow the path of my protagonist from Front Royal, Va., to Ozark, Mo., taking in all the life I could savor. But Russia, not content with destroying the statehood of Ukraine once before, had other plans. I put my writing on hold and took up arms instead. Now I’m making efforts to prevent a new stage of subjugation in my country.

[David Lockmiller]

Did I want to fight? Do hundreds of thousands of Ukrainians want to fight? We have children, families, jobs, hobbies, parcels in the mail. And some of us have an unfinished novel about the adventures of a Ukrainian in America who didn’t want to fight but couldn’t do otherwise. We also cannot do otherwise, because our enemies are trying once more to take away our right to live on our land. Because they are trying to take away our right to freedom.

How could I not pick up a weapon here? For those who lived for many decades in the cozy arms of democracy and freedom, who don’t know the fear of captivity and torture, it is difficult to understand why such peaceful people — who from time immemorial grew wheat, mined iron and coal, and grazed cattle on boundless meadows — defend every meter of their country with such fury. But I know the answer. This is our wonderful land. And it must be free.

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President Abraham Lincoln's Address to the 166th Ohio Regiment, August 22, 1864:

(Please note that this speech was made on the day before President Lincoln wrote the "blind memorandum" on August 23, 1864.)

SOLDIERS--I suppose you are going home to see your families and friends. For the services you have done in this great struggle in which we are engaged, I present you sincere thanks for myself and the country.

I almost always feel inclined, when I say anything to soldiers, to impress upon them, in a few brief remarks, the importance of success in this contest. It is not merely for the day, but for all time to come, that we should perpetuate for our children's children that great and free government which we have enjoyed all our lives. I beg you to remember this, not merely for my sake, but for yours. I happen, temporarily, to occupy this big White House. I am a living witness that any one of your children may look to come here as my father's child has. It is in order that each one of you may have, through this free government which we have enjoyed, an open field, and a fair chance for your industry, enterprise, and intelligence; that you may all have equal privileges in the race of life with all its desirable human aspirations--it is for this that the struggle should be maintained, that we may not lose our birthrights--not only for one, but for two or three years, if necessary. The nation is worth fighting for, to secure such an inestimable jewel.

[David Lockmiller]

In Bakhmut, where I served in May, the unit I commanded was given the task of building a combat position on the outskirts of the city, but everything was changing very quickly. The Russians captured the rest of the city and most of the Ukrainian units left. Suddenly we found ourselves in a trap — there was no one to cover us.

Seeking protection, I lay down in a tiny trench. I spent five days in that tomb waiting for death. For 115 hours, I lay in this four-foot-deep hole and looked up at the clear sky, wincing at the explosions next to me. All around was pure hell.

I was lying at the bottom of my grave thinking that, even though I had accepted my death long ago, I was still not prepared for this death right now. My wife doesn’t know how to pay utility bills, I didn’t leave her my email and internet banking passwords, and there are parcels in the mail that I didn’t have time to inform her about.

At the same time, I thought about what I would do if I survived. There is such a possibility — to survive. Well, then, I will write a message. I will say: My love, I survived. But it was difficult to think about a happy ending. I preferred dreaming about my death, when, soaked to the bone by the rain, after falling asleep for an hour under the cannonade, I would be killed by a Russian mine.

When the fifth day came to an end, heavy rain suddenly began, an almost tropical torrent. The shelling stopped for the first time. And the walkie-talkie, whose batteries hadn’t quite run out, rang with the command to leave.

So I left. Under a downpour, thirsty, wet, exhausted, having lost seven kilograms of body weight and all ammunition, but still carrying my weapon. When we got 15 kilometers from the front line, I wrote to my wife: "My love, I survived. I still have a hard time believing it."