- I (Interpreter)
- H (Henry)
Part 2: Ostap on premonitions
I: Just so you know, I’m the interpreter. I can translate if it’s easier for you to speak. If you want to add anything in Ukrainian later, I’ll translate it.
[translates into English]
Ostap: I’ll try in English first, and we’ll see how it goes.
I: If you need help, I’m here.
Ostap: Thanks.
[in English] I haven’t practiced my English for a long time—about three years.
H: [in English] It sounds like you guys organized a big part of Kharkiv during the Orange Revolution, Maidan, and the Revolution of Dignity.
Ostap: [in English] Yeah. In February, when the war started, there were a lot of people here. Some supported Maidan, some didn’t, but when that moment came, everything became real.
As far as I know—and I’m still working with some of those people—it’s a big organization. I didn’t expect everything to change overnight: people woke up to artillery and explosions. Many started looking for where to go, where to get weapons, where to join.
Representatives of the local administration [ODA — regional administration] and volunteers went there and took weapons. On March 1st, two missiles hit the building—around ten people died. It could’ve been worse, but… step by step, everything developed.
If you’ve heard about it—I’m with “Kraken” [Ukrainian reconnaissance unit].
H: [in English] Yeah, that was my next question.
Ostap: [in English] In the early days, nobody knew who we were or where we were. We all thought we were Territorial Defense. I’m serious—nobody knew for sure.
At first we were Territorial Defense, then for two days we were “Azov” [unit]—don’t ask why, it was chaos.
[in Ukrainian] How do you say HUR in English?
I: [translates into English]
Vic: [in English] No, that’s interesting.
I: [in English] Main Directorate of Intelligence of Ukraine—HUR.
Ostap: [in English] Very big organization. A lot of people. Four years.
I: [in English] Just want to mention that the English name is quite different from Ukrainian.
Ostap: You mean HUR? I don’t understand that translation either. That’s why I can’t remember it.
[in English] Ask me anything—maybe I know something interesting.
Vic: [in English] I’m interested in what you were doing in Territorial Defense since the full-scale war started.
I: [translates into Ukrainian]
[to Kraken] Are we speaking formally or informally?
Ostap: Informal—it’s easier.
I: Great. What were you doing? What’s your background?
[in English] Before or after?
Vic: [in English] After.
I: After the full-scale invasion—what were you doing?
Ostap: [in English] Okay. Before the war — I know it actually started in 2014, but we’re talking about 2022 — I had been working as a sports journalist since 2010. After the full-scale war began, I became a soldier. And I still am. I’ll keep defending my country, my city. And now we’re in the oldest café in Kharkiv.
Vic: [in English] This one?
Ostap: [in English] This one — it’s been here since 1963.
Vic: [in English] Wow.
Ostap: [in English] The oldest café in Kharkiv.
Vic: [in English] It’s beautiful. I like all this art.
I’m working on a project where I want to collect stories—not just about famous heroes, but ordinary people. I heard a story about an old woman who threw a jar of pickles and hit a drone. I heard another story about a boy with a drone…
Ostap: [in English] That’s a “magic” story [made up].
Vic: [in English] Yeah, I know, I know. Or the one about a boy who was given a toy drone — he flew it, spotted russian troops, reported them through Diia [Ukrainian government app], and then their position was hit. I’ve heard a lot of stories about women in occupied areas making tea for russian soldiers with poison… um…
There are also stories that feel more real — like Patron the dog… you know… that’s real. And the “Ghost of Kyiv” too. Maybe these are actually several people with the same name, but the point is that people share these stories with each other. They inspire people in Ukraine and motivate them to keep going, to hold on, and to resist russian aggression.
Ostap: [in English] Yeah, we’ve all heard those stories. [laughs]
Vic: [in English] Yeah, or maybe there are less well-known ones. A woman I spoke to told me she used to work in Kharkiv, and one of her former managers joined the army. Together with two other soldiers, the three of them managed to capture 12 Russian soldiers at once. She said that everyone who knew him kept sharing that story with each other. Over time, he became a kind of hero because of what he did.
Ostap: [in English] There’s also a story from Chasiv Yar, in 2024 — one man…
[in Ukrainian] How do you say “взяв у полон” (captured / took prisoner)?
I: [translates into English]
Ostap: [in English] He captured nine russian soldiers at once.
Vic: [in English] One man?
Ostap: [in English] Well, maybe with a few other guys. There were a lot of russians moving on heavy vehicles. They stopped near a house, and when they came out — one was killed, and the others were captured. They surrendered. I don’t know what exactly he said to them. It’s interesting to hear — sometimes really, really interesting, but…
[in Ukrainian] There was a story about…
I: Like the story about one of our soldiers who used a drone to capture them…
Ostap: Ah, yeah — that happens quite often.
I: Really?
Ostap: Yeah, things like that happen. They get lost, and they’re exhausted — they can barely walk anymore. So it’s like, “just follow the drone and you’ll make it out.” And that’s actually a normal situation, not rare at all. A lot of the russian soldiers don’t really want to run around or keep fighting — they’re just tired, worn out, sometimes wounded. And when there’s a way out, they take it.
I: [translates into English]
Ostap: I’m sitting here now, thinking about which stories were actually motivating. And the first thing that comes to mind is the Kupiansk offensive operation, in 2022. When we were already past Kupiansk, in the next village, Kivsharivka, we would go there sometimes. And the people who lived there would come out with… I don’t even know how to describe it… just very simple food — some kind of flatbreads they had baked. They had no gas, no electricity, nothing. But they still came out and shared it with us, sincerely. And honestly, it was probably the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life. Because you’re doing something, and you see that people actually need it. That they’re waiting for you there… that those are your people, the ones you have to free. And when we once stayed overnight with a family… an older couple… they said, “You’re like our children.” That’s probably the motivation. I don’t know. What else is there to motivate yourself with?
I: [translates into English]
Ostap: These are the kinds of stories. I’ve ended up doing a lot of different things — storm infantry, anti-tank missile systems, artillery, even administrative work, by the way. Well, what can I say — I can do everything.
I: [translates into English]
Ostap: At this rate, I sometimes joke that I might even end up flying an F-35. That would actually make sense. I’ve already been through so much.
I: [translates into English]
H: We can just leave it recording and go eat. Is that okay?
Vic: Yes. I just don’t know how well it will be heard.
I: We can put the phone in front of you. Maybe we can just use this napkin holder and place it here? Or maybe we can just eat and talk…?
H: In 2004, I was seven years old.
Ostap: Yes.
H: What was it like when the Orange Revolution and the Revolution of Dignity started? How did it actually happen?
Ostap: I was sixteen. I was at university, a first-year student. It happened like this — I was with my friends. We didn’t like Yushchenko, but it was never really about Yushchenko or Yanukovych. It was about the country — about the fact that one day we woke up and realised we had no freedom. We couldn’t do anything except support and join a peaceful revolution. No fighting, just a huge square filled with people. There were two large groups — one in blue, one in orange — standing opposite each other, but without fighting or violence.
H: So, regarding the 2014 Revolution of Dignity, who, in your opinion, was the most memorable in an absolutely unforgettable way?
Ostap: I didn’t fully understand.
I: [translates into Ukrainian]
[in English] Something good or bad?
H: [in English] Good. Something you will never forget—something a person did.
I: [translates into Ukrainian]
Ostap: I don’t know… I can’t name a single specific moment, although… in a positive sense…
[in English] It was extremely tense—there were a lot of pro-russian people, russian flags, fights, violence.
[in Ukrainian] Well, March 1st, if I’m not mistaken.
I: What happened on March 1st?
Ostap: During those events, there was an assault on the regional state administration building. The city had both local participants and people who had come from outside, including representatives of pro-russian forces. As a result, the regional administration building was seized. Those from the pro-Ukrainian side faced confrontation: some were beaten, forced to go through a so-called “corridor of shame,” and made to kneel. Police officers were present at the scene, but there was no meaningful intervention from their side. These events are well documented—there is a lot of video evidence. But people still didn’t give up, and Kharkiv didn’t become either Donetsk or Luhansk. Luckily, I don’t know what I would have done. But somehow, the city held on and remained Ukrainian. Although… so-so.
That’s probably what impressed me the most. Because now… the so-called “KhNR”? It really was on the edge—completely on the edge—but somehow it held. Somewhere the “Jaguar” unit arrived in time, somewhere the people stepped in. It all happened a long time ago, and compared to the war now, it doesn’t even feel like something shocking anymore. We’ve got used to it, but back then we were all newcomers…
I: [translates into English]
Ostap: It feels like too much has happened to Ukraine over the last 20 years.
I: [translates into English]
Ostap: [in English] We didn’t choose this.
I: When you liberate villages and towns, do you speak with the local residents? Maybe they tell you things about the russians, maybe they have certain beliefs. When we spoke with people from recently liberated areas, they told us different stories.
Like, if you do this, you’ll be safe. Or if you talk to some pro-ukrainian elderly man, it means you’ll have good fortune. Something like that—some kind of beliefs?
Ostap: You know, no, I wouldn’t really say there are such beliefs. Although we did have experience during the liberation of the well-known Ruska Lozova [a settlement in Kharkiv region]. That was one of the first major operations. Kupiansk, and beyond Kupiansk—there were many settlements. But I honestly didn’t hear from locals about things like major atrocities, basements, or torture. Maybe I was just lucky.
So they lived there, just living under the “pydors” [derogatory term for russian soldiers], waiting for ours to come. At least that was the impression I got from the people I spoke with. Maybe someone actually liked it there—I didn’t meet anyone like that. Most of them were like: “Finally, the Ukrainians are here, thank God.”
I’ve also heard a lot of stories there—just heard them, not seen them myself. People were locked up, people were drowned. A colleague of mine, a sports journalist, was leaving Kherson at that time. He was detained at the checkpoint and held for about a month. He told me horrific things: they beat him, used electric shocks, didn’t give him food, water, or sleep. It was extremely harsh. But that’s Kherson.
But for things like that to happen here… well, again, in the first months of the war, the katsaps [russians] didn’t really know how to fight, they didn’t quite understand what they were doing. Unfortunately, we are still learning, but they are learning quickly too. And that’s always a big problem. Because the way we operated in 2022 wouldn’t really work anymore.
Sometimes we talk about it with the guys: “Back in ’22 it was actually kind of easy—you could do this and that, take things from there, move them over there, clear a village, and that was it.” That operation I mentioned in Ruska Lozova was exactly like that. A hundred infantry soldiers just walking across a field—like 1917. Seriously, I’m not exaggerating.
Back then, it worked. Now it doesn’t. It’s not just drones—but drones too. A real “game changer”. They’ve changed everything. Completely everything. The good thing is we have them too.
I: [translates into English]
Ostap: Well, it’s a kind of nostalgia.
I: [translates into English]
Ostap: This war is completely different. It changes every year, every year.
[in English] The war keeps changing and changing, it’s constantly becoming more difficult. Every year…
I: Maybe you have some stories that are hard to believe. Not necessarily heroic ones, but for example how Balakliia was liberated, or how tanks were stopped. Like, four or six soldiers sitting on both sides in forest shelter belts, throwing grenades at tanks and making it look like there was a whole company there, and the russians got scared and retreated. Something like that.
Ostap: Balakliia?
I: Yes.
Ostap: I didn’t actually get to Balakliia, I went straight to Kupiansk.
And I don’t really have stories like that.
We had a situation like this. It was already beyond Kupiansk—we had pushed a bit further. I was a group commander, with seven people under me. Our task was to block a road. We were dropped in exactly where we were supposed to be. Our side was meant to be behind us. But very quickly it turned out those weren’t our guys anymore. And we realized—there were russians there, and there, and there, and also there and everywhere. A very unstable frontline situation. And it was like… uh… what do we do? [laughs] We found a russian soldier in a tree line and captured him.
I: Seriously?
Ostap: He was just wandering around… And we’re like: “Mate, what are you doing here?” — “I’m from near Moscow.” — “Why did you come?” — “Just to earn a bit of money.” — “And where are you going?” — “Back to russia,” he says. — “Well, you’ve probably already arrived.”
No one actually touched him there. We just sat him down, gave him something to drink, a cigarette, some food—he had his own supplies too. I didn’t even tie him up.
And then one of my colleagues—bigger than me, a solid, heavy guy—comes up and whispers, laughing: “You know who you’ve ended up with? You’ve ended up with Kraken.” Not a single person laid a finger on him, honestly.
And we were actually very lucky, because the armored vehicle that brought us in ran into russians about 20 minutes later while they were mining the road. Two of them were KIA [killed in action], unfortunately. One somehow managed to fight back with a machine gun.
Later that same person came back late at night with the same “motolyga” [Soviet light multi-purpose tracked armored vehicle], which isn’t really considered great equipment. And somehow they just pulled us out of there by pure miracle, right from under their noses.
Recon units were following us too—I could hear them on the radio saying: “We can’t get through to them, there’s a company of infantry and an APC [Armored Personnel Carrier] there.” And I’m thinking: that’s a bit too much…
We were really lucky that time. Everything was against us, but I don’t know… maybe just luck.
I: That’s rough, honestly.
[Translates into English]
Vic: What happened to the russian soldier you captured?
Ostap: [in English] We took him together with our reconnaissance unit and brought him to headquarters. We weren’t interested in killing him. We have many Ukrainian soldiers on the russian side, and we exchange them for ours. That’s something we are genuinely interested in. I hope he was sent back to russia and that one Ukrainian soldier returns to Ukraine. I don’t know—no one told me what happened to him afterwards. But I hope that’s the case.
Vic: [in English] Does “Kraken” have a reputation among russian soldiers?
Ostap: [in English] Yes. I think nobody can scare people more than they scare themselves. They are afraid, but they created that fear themselves. It’s a kind of myth many russians have come to believe in. But it works.
Vic: [in English] So they fight worse because they’re afraid of you?
Ostap: [in English] Yes. I think in the situation we’re in now, it helps.
Vic: [in English] Does Ukraine try to share information with Russians to intimidate them? For example, do you reach out to russian soldiers on social media, try to scare them, tell them you will defeat them? Or are they already scaring themselves?
Ostap: [in English] Yes, they scare themselves. But as far as I can see now, there are a few russians on Threads and other social media, and Ukrainians there don’t like them. Maybe most of them are bots. But it doesn’t really matter to me.
Vic: [in English] Okay.
Ostap: [in English] In russia there is no Instagram or Facebook. Only with a VPN. Something like that.
[in Ukrainian] I don’t think there is any special campaign to intimidate russian soldiers. I don’t think so.
I: [translates into English]
[in English] But there was in 2022. I remember those leaflets—they tried to pass them to russian soldiers, they intercepted russian radio and broadcast: “You need to surrender, otherwise we will kill you all.” And the russians did the same to Ukrainians.
Ostap: By the way, I remember in the first days—I have an audio recording somewhere from Kharkiv. Every 3–5 minutes, loudspeakers in the city centre were broadcasting: “russian soldier, surrender, it’s over for you .” And it was nonstop, 24/7. Maybe that’s also part of what we’re talking about. It’s also psychological pressure, but there were almost no russians here. They entered on the 27th [of February]—and it was over. But yes, that happened.
I: [translates into English.
Vic: Did it stop them?
I: Yes. It led to the russians being defeated—they surrendered.
Ostap: Back then there were many things that were supposed to work but didn’t, even though everyone hoped they would. For example, “NATO, close the sky” [slogans spread by Ukrainians on social media at the beginning of the war].
Vic: Have you seen russians who believe in superstitions?
I: Do russians believe in superstitions?
Ostap: Hard to say… I’m just trying to recall my interactions. I had some contact with russians—both then and later. Generally, I don’t think so. When they are already in captivity, they are just frightened people.
I: They don’t believe in anything anymore.
Ostap: They’re beyond belief, beyond superstition—beyond everything. They’re just scared, afraid of what will happen to them. They’ve also heard all kinds of horror stories. Nothing like… although it was interesting to talk to them.
I: Well, you can think about it, I’ll translate then.
[Translates into English]
Vic: Do you have any rituals before going to the front line? For example, one soldier I spoke to said that before heading out, he and his comrades always try to find the nearest café where they can have coffee together. It’s their kind of ritual before deployment, and it helps him feel calmer.
Ostap: I didn’t quite understand what was meant.
I: Do you have any traditions with your comrades when you go on a mission? Maybe some routines like that.
Ostap: Ah, I see what you mean. As for a real tradition—no, not really.
I: For example, having coffee.
Ostap: When we were working in Chasiv Yar [a city in Donetsk region], we were based in Kramatorsk. There was this really nice small café there, with an amazing cook—really, really good food. Whenever my group went out, we would just change there and go have lunch. People just wanted to eat something tasty. So I guess that was a kind of tradition. And having coffee with your comrades or sisters-in-arms—that’s sacred. It’s not always possible, though.
I: Is there anything you always do? Any habits that don’t really count as traditions?
Ostap: It’s interesting, because I don’t really see myself from the outside. Maybe there is something, but I can’t quite grasp it. Maybe yes, maybe no.
Habits? What habits… Sitting in a car in a way that you can jump out quickly—that’s a habit. And also, when I get into a vehicle, I always take my helmet off, because I hit it on the roof and then I can’t get out fast. That’s a habit, seriously. Even though technically you’re supposed to stay fully equipped, I just understand that I wouldn’t be able to jump out quickly otherwise.
I: [translates into English]
[in Ukrainian] What was your first habit before the helmet?
Ostap: Getting into a vehicle in a way that you know how the doors open, so you can jump out at the right moment, and so you feel you’re in control of it.
I: [translates into English]
Ostap: When I first went on a mission in a BTR [armoured personnel carrier], they showed me how to get in, but nobody explained how to get out. Inside it’s extremely loud, the engine is running, and someone is shouting at me but I can’t hear anything. I’m trying to pull every lever I can find. It was really unpleasant, because you’re supposed to be able to jump out, but you don’t actually know how. Honestly, it’s a completely real story. Not very heroic, but that’s how it was. And I almost fell out of it.
I: [translates into English]
Ostap: In reality, it’s quite terrible, because you always need to know how to get out if you’ve already got in.
I: [translates into English]
[Interrupted]
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