Russian Troops Are Dying By the Thousands at Bakhmut
“The objective for today is to come back alive.” Yevgeny is a young commando hailing from the “Mad Pack”Bakhmut has seen a special forces unit, the “Unit of Special Forces”, since November. His words are familiar — lacquered with that mix of emotions common to almost all soldiers fighting on the frontlines of war: laughter and unease. We climb into a Land Cruiser as we head towards the city. “The situation is always changing,” He continues. “But one thing remains the same: the line of contact is always active.”
Bakhmut is an abomination by western Ukraine standards. Electricity and water have been out of service since August. The rows of Soviet-style buildings look like a collection of ragged molars, blackened by soot and mottled with shells.
This city once home to 70,000 people is almost completely deserted of civilians. The only exception is the occasional elderly person who wanders by the sound of nearby shelling. Everywhere I look, I see soldiers standing guard, taking cover, advancing forwards, hiding, congregating behind walls and doors, and almost always smoking. The mosque is our first port of call. This small, rectangular, square box could be considered a regular house with the exception of the small dome of gold on its roof. KazbekChechen soldier fighting in Ukraine, Yevgeny is our guide. He gets out of his car and prays, bowing to Mecca while shells explode around him.
If you want to discover the madness of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, come to Bakhmut. The war for the city has been the longest. After Severodonetsk was taken, Russia launched an offensive to capture the city in July 2022. The truth is Russian troops are dying in their thousands here — and possibly for nothing. The The UK Ministry of Defence has described Bakhmut’s “limited operational value”: the city’s fall would be UsefulWhile it was not decisive in helping Russia push through the Donbass, it was a significant step. The fight has therefore become almost symbolic. “Bakhmut holds” Ukrainians now have a rallying cry.
We move further into the city. I am greeted by my first civilian vehicle, a minibus with grime on it. On the back is a white cross. An elderly man walks on the pavement. Yevgeny asks why he hasn’t left. “Where would I go?” He replies. He tells me he lives with friends in the city, and that he has a stove as well as a basement for hiding. The Land Cruiser glides over the rough and wet road as we turn a corner. “The full contact front is just there,” Yevgeny points. Kazbek explains: “The Russians are just 200 metres down that road. Tomorrow, I will come back and kill them.”
Bakhmut is known for its constant use of shelling. But this close it’s different. I hear the shells whirling around me. Their deep, throaty roars grow louder as they hit home. “Now the Russians are attacking Ukrainian positions from three sides,” Kazbek offers explanations. We climb back in the Land Cruiser to drive into what appears as a fenced off wasteland, right next to the line. Some graffiti is written on a wall. “the republic of Ichkeria [Chechnya] will be free. Russians will be dead.” The view of a single cyclist. “Stupid,” Yevgeny.
We drive out into what is left of the main road, until we stop by the city’s monument of a MIG 17 fighter jet. “This used to be a famous Instagram spot,” Nata, Nata’s photographer. I have recently broken my ankle and am now hobbling a bit, although my support boot means that I can still walk fairly normally. I am posing by the plane, resting my foot gingerly. Kazbek laughs. I remember his words when we met: “I’ve never seen anyone come to the front with a crutch before.
Eventually, Kazbek decides it’s time to return to base. “There are,” He excitedly explains. “two roads to get out. The one that is constantly shelled much more interesting, so let’s take that!” Nata is not impressed. As I drive down the road, I notice holes made by vehicles and shells. War zones can assume many shapes: sometimes they’re cratered and grey like the surface of the moon; other times they are just a mesh of urban destruction. Bakhmut is a representation of the ocean’s bottom, with the tangled vehicles resembling metal crustaceans hugging to the seabed.
***
The Mad Pack live underground in a base covered in concrete. It’s a no-frills affair. Nata lies on a plastic waterbed on my right, and I sleep on a concrete floor door with a sleeping bag. A Javelin anti-tank case divides us. One of the many NLAWs Britain has sent to Ukraine is located in the corner. “God bless the United Kingdom; God bless Boris Johnson!” Kazbek to Kazbek, when we pose with one.
I had met my husband the night before we entered Bakhmut. “Ivan”, the unit’s commander, whose call sign is Coyote. We were underground in a room surrounded by cardboard boxes, firewood and a mound of wood. The focal point of the room was the chess set, which the soldiers alternately use. Coyote has been fighting since 2014. He says that his unit is Special Forces. He can’t give me details about their operations, but he has two units on rotation. His main tasks are planning and special ops — taking the fight to the enemy.
Bakhmut is important to Russia because of Putin’s “populist needs”He says. “Since February 24, the Russians have had few victories and many defeats. They need this victory; the city is close to the border and to their logistics. They cannot attack Kherson [in the south] because of the river, and in other territories on the front lines they have supply problems. Bakhmut is the only spot where theoretically they can win. But if we were to lose Bakhmut, then speaking without emotion, it would not be a strategic defeat, we’d just lose a town. But in the meantime, we tie up a large force of Russians so they cannot proceed in other areas. We buy time for other Ukrainian forces.”
He acknowledges that the situation has been difficult but manageable. Both the enemy and Ukrainians have suffered heavy losses. “They are going building-by-building. They are trying to encircle us; they keep trying again and again.”
According to what I have heard, the Russian tactics are based upon my description. “meat waves” Soldiers, often conscripts or prisoners fighting in the name of the Wagner mercenary team They are given a pardon if they live more than six months. They are often wiped out by the Ukrainians. More will always follow. It’s the downside of fighting an enemy with a population three times the size and little regard for the lives of its citizens. “The waves can unnerve the new guys,” Coyote agrees. “They destroy the first one and then more keep coming; they start to think it will never end. The experienced guys just swap their rifle for a machine gun and it’s all good!”
But it is a difficult fight. Russian forces now have northern access to the city. They also made recent progress towards the south, which is the key to the centre. They have taken control of the only road that leads out of the city and have surrounded it. Coyote remains bullish though. The Ukrainians have lost around 10 positions between November and January; they have lost just four since then. “The artillery and drones are working,” He says. I ask him about drones. It is the most significant change in war since my last visit in spring. Coyote smiles, gets up and returns, grinning even more, with a small blue object — a six-inch rocket with three fins topped with a golden dome. “We make it on a 3D printer. It costs about $30,” He says it with pride. “We fill it with explosives, and then put it in one of our drones… and drop.”
One of the other officers who used his name as a call sign “Barman”This explains their importance. “A while ago we used big, expensive tactical drones, made especially for the military,” He says it to me. “But now, small and medium-sized civilian drones are becoming separate military units because they can cause great damage to the enemy.”
He continues. “It used to take months, sometimes years, to train people to go into enemy territory and send in the coordinates for the artillery to fire. Now, one civilian drone can do it. It saves lives and even if it gets destroyed you can buy a new one cheaply. We have learned how to attach small grenades and bombs to them. Now we can send up a small $3,000 Mavik 3 with a grenade — and if you drop it perfectly on a T-90 you can take out a tank that costs millions.” These words are a reminder of a truth I have been noticing over the last few years. While future war is often portrayed as a vision of AI-powered robot soldiers and visions that they will be fighting in the streets, I see something else: the weaponization of the quotidian. You can now buy cheap drones online and make plastic projectiles in your home. These are affecting the balance in power in conflict.
Coyote provides me with his final assessment. “I think the battle will continue for about one or two months unless there is a major encirclement or something unexpected happens — it will go street by street; the artillery will slowly destroy all the tall buildings and it will [descend to] urban warfare. It will crawl to an end.” As we are about to leave, I ask him what his thoughts would be on Putin if he was here right now. “One second,” He says it and stands up. He returns with a pistol in his hand and pulls the trigger. The room echoes with the sound of its click. “I’d say nothing — just kill him.”
Later, Coyote appears to be in a playful mood. “What we sometimes also do,” He tells me: “is drop dildos from the drones, just to show them the contempt we have for them. Also, it’s a taste of what’s coming to them — how we’re going to fuck them.” I want to know what would happen if they hit a Russian soldier in the head. Everyone laughs. Coyote still looks mischievous, but he describes how they sometimes find lists. “heroic deaths” They are written on the walls of Russian positions they capture. “You know, they have a photo of the guy and under it ‘Vlad was killed by a Bayraktar’ and so on…. Imagine: ‘Here lies Sergei — he was killed by a massive cock.’”
***
Dinner is served. Kazbek washes both his hands and his clothes in a bucket that Kazbek placed on the floor. An older man in the kitchen holds a large knife that is clearly not meant for cooking and offers me a bowl soup. The meal includes eggs, tomatoes with grated cheese and cold chicken, as well as pancake rolls, sausages and several plates of bread. There is also a potato salad, egg yolk with garlic, a second plate of cold meats, and a plate with sliced lemon. Kazbek says that this all comes from Ukrainian volunteers.
Yevgeny interrupts our meal to share his war wounds. He grabs his phone and opens Instagram. He is shown holding two pieces of shrapnel in each his head and legs in a photo. He explained how he posted the photo and blocked his family from seeing it. “It happened on the first day of the war — 24 February! You know the funniest thing? That’s also my birthday. From now on… it’s two birthdays for me!”
The soldiers go home and end the meal. Nata and I are gone. She’s been discussing the cultural aspect of the war with Yevgeny and Kazbek because it’s a war not just against Ukrainian territory but against its very essence as a nation. Putin claims that there is no Ukraine. This means that everything, from its language to its literature and history, must be discredited. “For years we were told Ukrainian was just for peasants and Russian was for the sophisticated,” She said. “I see Russians and they can barely speak it. I can live without Dostoevsky. Look at Crime and Punishment, Raskolnikoff kills an old woman for money and then spends the entire book trying to work out why he did it. I’ll tell you why he did it: because he’s trash.”
After dinner, we all sit down in the common area. I glance around at these men who have been fighting for almost a ten year. They are exhausted but not diminished: they consider this fight their last chance at survival. The ceiling is covered in cigarette smoke. Nearly finished is the soft shuffle of moving pieces of chess. Kazbek wrote a song about Bakhmut. Yevgeny takes out a guitar, and begins singing.
Bakhmut, Bakhmut, you are so proud of yourself and so brave
You left your mark on fate
Bakhmut Bakhmut is the enemy that has left ruin
But we are all waiting…
Ukraine is ready for a new dawn.
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