Diaries from Ukraine: What I saw, why I'm going back

Editor's note: The writer is a Sandusky man who volunteered in Ukraine's International Legion in the fight against Russia's invasion. He spent months in Ukraine in 2022 before suffering a combat injury that saw him return to the U.S. to recover. He's now medically cleared to return to Ukraine and plans to return to Ukraine in several weeks. In the world we live today, there is no such thing as "somebody else's" war. If there is one lesson we as Americans should have learned from the 20th century, it is that we cannot feel safe when there is a war in Europe; whether that war is on the shores of France, in the skies above London or as we now find ourselves, the bloody fields of Ukraine. What follows is a small part of my observations. Heroes never stopped helping With full disclosure, I admit I am biased; not biased from having something to personally gain or a political agenda. I am an American. I do not have Ukrainian family roots or business ties. Before this war, I did not have many Ukrainian friends. I am biased only from what I saw, experienced and processed from my time on the battlefield and refugee camps. A spent Russian rocket sits near a destroyed school building in a Ukrainian village. Provided photo/TERRY BURTON Before I left, I had little understanding of Ukrainian or Russian history. I heard the fabrications unleashed by propagandist narratives of "Nazis" and "liberating Russian speakers." If I arrived and there was even a hint of truth to these musings, I would return home immediately and tell that story. What I actually saw made me ashamed to even harbor the notion of those ideas. In Poland, I watched the hungry, dirty, frightened and exhausted masses of Ukrainians packed into refugee areas set up on what seemed to be every spare piece of ground. I saw organizations and citizens doing everything in their power to feed, clothe and care for them. Doctors providing aid, cellular phone services giving away SIM cards and airtime, police providing security and priests supplying all important spiritual help. As much as they gave, as exhausted they were, an unending wave of humanity continued streaming in. The heroes never stopped helping. My purpose is also not to regale with tales of battle and heroism. I cannot do justice to the people I met, or their stories in the words a newspaper article affords me. I can say that as I traveled from the Poland/Ukraine border to Kyiv, the people I met carried a wide range of personalities and ideas. I met nationalists, globalists. Citizens with left- and right-wing politics. Some had pro-Soviet ideology, some reminisced that they missed the days of communism and others told me stories of Soviet atrocities against their own families and why they embraced nationalism. The liberation of Ivankiv The scars of war were light between the city of Lviv, in western Ukraine, to the capital, Kyiv, in north-central Ukraine. The only evidence that there was a war were the dug-in fighting positions and checkpoints framed by the bus and train windows. Even in Kyiv, the horrors were obscure until I crossed the Dnieper. Once crossing that ancient river though, the scars were evident. Buildings reduced to heaps of rubble, tanks, armored personnel carriers and scores of civilian and military vehicles reduced to twisted steel and lying on the streets. The city of Ivankiv was a major liberation. After the battle, the streets were lined with the liberated and we were greeted as I imagine my grandfathers were in France or Manila in 1944. Terry Burton poses in front of a sign in Ivankiv, Ukraine. Provided photo/THE UKRAINIAN LIBERATION FUND The celebrations were short-lived, as the next phase of the battle began. Following our convoy were aid trucks, delivering the food and medicine these people needed. I saw stores looted by advancing Russian soldiers, taking anything of value, whether that be medication and food or consumer goods. Every store was stripped like locusts in a field. To see the aid trucks surrounded by children having their first drink of milk or nutritious meal since the occupation, the smiles on the faces of the soldiers who evicted the Russians, the embraces of women from eighteen to eighty, all in the shadow of Chernobyl are all images I will take to my grave. People streamed into the area reserved for refugees. I watched children with untreated infections, walking unsteadily and staring toward the horizon. I wondered about their future mental health. I saw women who had been raped repeatedly by the occupiers, from the first day of occupation until liberation. I saw men who could not stop atrocities committed against their families and friends, who had to not only endure torture and ridicule but watch the unspeakable acts committed against people they loved. It was the first time I observed that the aftermath of battle was just as inhumane as the battle itself. I saw this same scene played out in village after village. A soldier expects to die. We take on that possibility voluntarily, the day we put that patch on our shoulder. It is a price we agree to pay. These civilians never took that oath, but they are paying the price. War of attrition on civilians The Battle of Borodianka left the city ravaged. I will be forever haunted by what I witnessed after the Russian withdrawal. In their retreat, the Russians laid land mines. That in itself is not abnormal. What is nothing short of evil is where they were laid. Every playground was mined. Toys were mined. Sources of fresh water were mined. The mines were set up for civilian detonation. A sign warns people about land mines in Borodianka, Ukraine. Provided photo/TERRY BURTON This tactic is employed twofold, to destroy morale (the horrors of injured children) and to overwhelm medical facilities and personnel. A war of attrition on civilians. In Bucha, I saw the blindfolded and executed bodies of civilians. Although not uncommon in all the Russian-occupied areas, it was the first time I observed the executed not buried in the mass graves that dotted the landscape in occupied areas. Return to Ukraine My first "tour" ended in a city outside Lviv. Putin's Army sent a missile attack addressed to "Whom it may concern". When the first salvo finished, we went toward the smoke in an attempt to help when a second salvo sent me to a hospital in Poland and, eventually, back home. Now I am cleared to return to my brothers and sisters. The difference between this time and the last, I suppose, is I know what I am going into. I am sure the Ukrainian counter-offensive will last through the winter and it is different to liberate a town than to clear the defensive fighting positions constructed in the last months. I will return once again to very little food, few supplies and severely diminished water and electrical infrastructure. The Russians have always fought wars of attrition and counted on their enemies running short of supplies and sickness sweeping through during winter. This is classic Soviet war doctrine. Why would I go back? A person has two options when the world calls him to act. They can either stand up and be the person the world needs or they can sit down so the world can see the person behind you. We all contribute in our own ways. I want them to know that I, along with millions of others took a stand, for me, for my family, for my friends, for them and for people I don't know. I am American. That is what we do. To donate money or supplies, readers may go to theukrainianliberationfund.org