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War in Ukraine

What Battlefield Evacuations Are Really Like, as Told by Ukrainian Combat Medics

Ukraine Battlefield Evacuations Combat Medics

Amid scorched battlefields, burnt-out tanks, and frozen trenches, ordinary people risk everything to defend freedom. Ukrainian combat medics share firsthand stories of evacuating the wounded under Russian fire, where survival is a race against time.

8 min read
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On February 24th, 2022, Vitsik was working at a car manufacturing plant in Poland after years of serving in Ukraine’s Anti-Terrorist Operation (ATO) . Motivated by his sister, who was also in the armed forces at the time, he left behind life in Poland just one day into the Russian full-scale invasion to return to Ukraine and defend his country. Since then, he’s served in some of the hottest battles of 2024: Siverskodonetsk, Lyman, and now—Kurakhove. 

Like Vitsik, Eugene lived an ordinary life leading up to the full-scale invasion, working as a cardiology nurse in an ICU in Poltava. But everything changed on February 28, 2022, when he joined the Ukrainian Armed Forces four days into the full-scale invasion—he was just 21 years old at the time. By April 2023, Eugene was serving in a brigade in the Donetsk region. 

These are their stories.

Vitsik (l) and Eugene (r) together with the driver (middle), callsign “Ded” (eng: old man, grandpa). (Photo by Libkos)
Vitsik (l) and Eugene (r) together with the driver (middle), callsign “Ded” (eng: old man, grandpa). (Photo by Libkos)

Frontline realities

As a combat medic with seven years of frontline experience, Vitsik has seen it all. He says that every evacuation is its own story about the fight for survival, but there’s one case, from the early days of the full-scale invasion, that still haunts his dreams.

During a battle, Vitsik and his team received an order to evacuate the wounded; upon their arrival, some of the men had already been killed. He accepted a body, wrapped in a makeshift cover by the survivors and completely soaked in blood. It was during the evacuation, already in the medevac, that he tried to place the body into a body bag and a severed hand fell out. After checking the body, which still had both arms intact, Vitsik understood that this hand belonged to an entirely different person. 

“I held that hand in my arms the entire way to the morgue; it was the only thing that remained of him,” he said. Vitsik never stopped wondering whose hand had made it into his lap. Eventually, he learned that the hand belonged to one of his comrades.

A man’s hand with a watch. The day before, the man sent Christmas presents to his family. The next day, he was killed in action, and his watch stopped forever at 7:30 pm. (Photo: courtesy of Vitsik)
A man’s hand with a watch. The day before, the man sent Christmas presents to his family. The next day, he was killed in action, and his watch stopped forever at 7:30 pm. (Photo: courtesy of Vitsik)

Today, just outside Kurakhove, it’s back-to-back evacuations under constant Russian fire. “There are constant missile, artillery, and tank strikes,” says Eugene. “Enemy drones are always in the sky.” The medic says that moving freely along their positions, even 5km away from the line of direct hits, is risky as the Russian drone surveillance results in relentless attacks lasting two to three consecutive days without pause. The severity of the fighting significantly impedes the medics’ ability to reach the wounded and perform evacuations on time, leaving those injured on the battlefield fighting for their lives—sometimes for days. 

This was the case for three Ukrainian servicemen, two of whom couldn’t walk, stranded in the ruins of a destroyed basement. Eugene and his team entered on an armored personnel carrier (APC) but were forced to pull over halfway due to drones. The APC was hidden off-road in the bushes and the team took shelter nearby to wait out the attack. 

“It’s a good thing that they were able to give each other first aid,” says Eugene about the wounded, as they were unreachable for two days. “We had to do everything quickly, in the dark, in the ruins of the building—this was hard to do. We pulled them out of the basement, loaded them into the APC, and got out of there. I supported his head the entire way as he didn’t have the strength to anymore.” In time, the team made it to their safe point, where they were able to set the broken bones, administer IVs, and provide more substantial aid. 

A wounded soldier awaits the next evacuation link. Medics provide first aid at a stabilisation point near the Kurakhove frontline, Donetsk region, (Photo by Vlada Liberova/Libkos/Getty)
A wounded soldier awaits the next evacuation link. Medics provide first aid at a stabilisation point near the Kurakhove frontline, Donetsk region, (Photo by Vlada Liberova/Libkos/Getty)

Making the impossible possible

Medics often have to abandon their vehicles and move into positions on foot to reach their injured men. Still, they do everything possible to make impossible evacuations happen.

Recently, in Uspenivka, Donetsk region, multiple hits targeting the Ukrainian side complicated the process even further. 

“Having arrived there, we understood that the boys couldn’t leave their position as [their vehicle] had blown up on a mine, and the enemy was only 1-2km away,” says Vitsik. “Our car also detonated on a mine and I decided to walk the rest of the way to retrieve the wounded guys.” The evacuees were all in serious condition with full-body shrapnel wounds, broken legs, and broken ribs. Although one of the injuries resulted in an amputation, the evacuation was a success, as Vitsik managed to eventually load everyone into the med-evac and make it out to the stabilization point.

The evacuation vehicle hit a mine 500-700 meters from the position, forcing the team to evacuate on foot. (Photo: courtesy of Vitsik)
The evacuation vehicle hit a mine 500-700 meters from the position, forcing the team to evacuate on foot. (Photo: courtesy of Vitsik)

Eugene also recalls an evacuation that was carried out on foot. He and a fellow soldier, who was not a medic but knew the positions better, set out to retrieve the bodies of two of their fallen comrades. They had arrived at the edge of their position and needed to advance a further 50 meters to reach the bodies; however, they couldn’t step foot outside of the dugout because of the unabating Russian drones circling above. About two hours later, a group of 4 wounded men crawled into their dugout—they had all suffered injuries in a recent offensive. 

“I administered first aid, controlled the bleeding, and bandaged them,” said Eugene. “Two of the men couldn’t move on their own.” Eugene then radioed his commander and it was decided that they needed to evacuate these men rather than collect the bodies that they had initially come for, because otherwise they too, could become wounded in the Russian attack. Eugene and the soldier he entered the position with carried the most heavily wounded man together and the other two helped transport the fourth person. Carrying one another, they went on like this for 2km, when they finally made it out to their evacuation point. 

Eugene in a medical evacuation transport near the Kurakhove frontline. (Photo by Vlada Liberova/Libkos/Getty Images)
Eugene in a medical evacuation transport near the Kurakhove frontline. (Photo by Vlada Liberova/Libkos/Getty Images)

“Today it’s us, tomorrow—it will be you”

Joining the military was the best way to protect his home, shared Eugene—a sentiment common among Ukrainian servicemen who were civilians prior to the full-scale invasion. Vitsik emphasized that it’s not just Ukrainians’ homes that are at risk and we can’t afford to underestimate the Russians. 

“The whole world,” he stated, “from Europe to America needs to understand that today it’s us, tomorrow it will be you.” 

Russia has made no secret of its westward expansion ambitions, with its state propagandists openly stating that Germany, too, will one day “exist under a Russian flag.”

It’s precisely because of this disinformation, that Vitsik prioritizes speaking openly about the true nature of the Russian war in Ukraine: “I want to address the entire world, so that everyone in every corner of our planet, understands that the person who defends his land is the one who’s in the right. Yes, we get help, but I consider it insufficient. This means that the world doesn’t mind that Ukrainians are being killed, and they also don’t mind that after us it will be other Europeans. And after the other Europeans, they’ll keep going.” 

Without adequate support, the seasoned serviceman worries that the 4th year of the full-scale invasion could arrive at Lviv's doorstep. “Nobody knows when this chaos will end,” he says. “Nobody knows who the next victim will be—it could be me, or it could be someone in line to buy bread, since missiles make every corner of our country unsafe.” As Russia targets civilian infrastructure and civilians themselves, survival in Ukraine has become a lottery.

Vitsik talks about the prospect of death calmly, in a way that only someone who has stared it in the eyes can: “I don’t know if I’ll still be alive on the day that our victory is announced—the day that peace arrives, the day that Ukrainians are no longer killed”—but Vitsik, Eugene, and combat medics just like them work tirelessly on the battlefield to ensure this possibility becomes reality. 

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Ukraine’s military response to Russia’s initial 2014 invasion and occupation.