“Christmas Has Changed”: A Ukrainian Soldier’s Holiday at War

Throughout history, there have been moments when the front briefly stopped for Christmas. The clearest examples in modern history came in 1914 during World War I, when French and German soldiers put down their weapons, shared tobacco, and sang Christmas carols together. Another example is the Battle of the Bulge in 1944, when American and German troops reportedly played a game of football across opposing positions. In both cases, frozen frontlines brought movement to a halt, allowing small moments of humanity amid the fighting, before returning to the trenches.

For the defenders of Ukraine, this is not the case. This Christmas and New Year continued as they always have—the most dangerous, violent, and destructive war we have seen since World War II. No breaks. No ceasefire. Just hell. 

I joined a few soldier friends in the Kharkiv region over the Christmas holidays. From the moment I was picked up at the Izium train station, it was clear that the holiday season was far from their minds. The night before, Jag 25 (Born and raised in now Russian-occupied Luhansk, he joined the French Foreign Legion at 16 and has been fighting for Ukraine since 2022) told me that Russia had attacked the area with 14 KABs (Russian precision-guided bombs). He also mentioned recent attacks with Lancet and FPV drones. Just a few months ago, there was little talk of small drone attacks in the area. Because of this, the city is now taking precautions, and much of the center is completely netted.

Over the next few days, my friends were not on the zero line; they were busy from morning to evening with constant work, making sure their comrades on the front had what they needed, planning logistics, preparing for the next deployment, and handling the countless other tasks required to operate at the extremely high level demanded.

Most of the days and nights were spent moving between errands. In the rare quiet of the evenings, we would watch 2000s gangster movies with Jag’s dog Runa, a brief moment of normalcy in a lifestyle under constant alert.

What struck me most in my four days spent with these soldiers was how young they were. Many have been fighting since 2022 as snipers or infantry assaulters, and come from regions of Ukraine that have been occupied since 2014. These young men have known war from an early age. There is a certain mental load to being a soldier, shaped by constant danger, and youth seems to flicker to and fro on their faces. 

I remember when I was walking back to our apartment and saw Jag, standing in full fatigues and armour, next to his car. I was holding a small Christmas tree, bought on the street. He looked at me and said, “Let's go, we have some training to do.” Not even acknowledging the half-meter tree.

This is the first time in two years that I’ve had a holiday, and I am not on the front. Christmas has changed for me a lot. As a kid, Christmas felt something like a dream.

Jag

Ukrainian soldier

"When I was a kid, it was like a family gathering,” says Bull. Bull is a tall and broad 24 year drone pilot from Ukraine’s Berdiansk region which is temporarily occupied by Russia since February 27, 2022. “You could exchange gifts. That unforgettable moment when you wait. You wait the longest, as in life. Waiting is the most difficult. That's how it is. Relatives, gifts, New Year's Eve, meeting with old friends… that's how it is."

Despite everything, there were small glimpses of Christmas spirit: a woman selling Christmas trees on the street, a string of lights hung inside a living room, or a prized tree driven all the way from Odesa.

For the soldiers defending Ukraine, the overwhelming amount of hardship doesn't allow them to fall into these Sentimentalized stories that are echoed through history years after the war ends. After the ceasefire in 1914, the fighting resumed, reminding us that, as tempting as it is to romanticize holidays on the front, true rest never comes—at least until the war ends.

On Christmas Eve, it was a clear and extremely cold evening. The sun had already set, but deep blue and orange light still illuminated the sky. Later that night, in the basement of the building, I found a disintegrating box of hand-painted ornaments and tinsel. Once Gepa came back home and saw the decorated tree in the kitchen, he started laughing. 

“What the fuck,” he said, a massive, pure smile spread across his face.

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