Why, after 4 years of volunteering for Ukraine's military, I finally decided to enlist

In January of this year, I — a Ukrainian writer and volunteer — voluntarily enlisted in the Armed Forces of Ukraine. Foreigners asked: "Why?" while Ukrainians asked: "Why only now?"

These two questions reflect two different realities. For Europeans, war is something terrible but niche, confined to a certain territory and affecting only certain people. For Ukrainians, war is central, and we ourselves are at its epicenter — it affects everyone and changes every sphere of life.

My European acquaintances asked, "Why did you enlist if you were more useful to your country as a civilian?" After all, as a writer, you were engaged in cultural diplomacy abroad; your speeches and texts in different countries and at the most prestigious venues opened foreigners' eyes to the truth about Ukraine and the war.

And as a volunteer who managed to put his literary reputation in service of the common good, you raised money and bought SUVs for the Ukrainian army (415 of them!), doing something tangible and concrete in support of the military. In other words, you were effective both intellectually and practically. So why did you decide to enlist? — They could not understand.

Meanwhile, my Ukrainian friends asked: Why did you enlist in the fourth year of the invasion if you didn't join the army in the first days?

The Ukrainian question is easier for me to answer. At the beginning of the invasion, it seemed to me that I was more effective as a writer, a Ukrainian voice in the world. Later, I managed to build a volunteer team and provide practical support to the army, which in turn gave me a sense of moral satisfaction.

In 2025, I did not join the army because I still believed U.S. President Donald Trump could bring about an end to the war — if not in 24 hours, then at least by the end of the year. But this year, I no longer postponed my mobilization until fall, because I am now convinced the war will not end by then.

I joined the military now for a simple reason. My younger daughter started kindergarten and adapted well, so it will be at least a little easier for my wife to manage with two small children on her hands. (Yes, people rarely talk about this: Men who go to war are admired, but the wives on whose shoulders a double burden suddenly falls are not, even though to me it is an equal burden. Thank you for holding on, my Yulia, I love you for this too!)

Now, the European question: Why enlist at all? I do not have a heroic or clear-cut answer to that. I struggled with it all these years, and a few months before making the decision, I lost sleep and spent nights tossing and turning in bed.

My mood swung like a pendulum — sometimes I was afraid and thought I would die within the first months, other times the idea filled me with inner strength and drive. When I finally decided to join the army in October 2025, I felt incredible relief.

At last, I had thrown off the burden that had tormented me throughout these four years. The main reason is simple: I was ashamed. Ashamed to know that while you live a peaceful life, someone else is paying with their life for your safety. That men and women at the front are protecting you and your children, even though you, too, are relatively young and healthy and could replace them there.

Over the years of war in Ukraine — as in every country that goes through war in any historical era — divisions in society have sharpened, and inequality has become more visible. In every war, it works the same way: The richer you are and the more connections you have, the less likely you are to end up in the army.

This is a great injustice, especially toward those who have already spent several years at war.

The realities in Ukraine and the lack of personnel are such that even after four years at the front, demobilization is impossible — there is no one to replace you. And when you have been at war that long, even if you have nine lives, sooner or later, they will run out, which means you are at war on a one-way ticket to severe disability or death.

Imagine this: You are playing with your children on a playground. Nearby stands a woman whose husband has been at the front for four years. And then you catch her gaze.

But the most important factor is that this year, my older daughter will start school. She is incredibly smart and asks the hardest questions in the world. I did not want to wait until she looked at me with her crystal-clear eyes and asked: "Dad, the parents of many of my classmates are at war — why are not you?"

I would not want to sink into the ground from that question, which I myself have been asking for years. I have no answer that would not sound like an excuse. Defending your country is everyone's responsibility, so now it is my turn.

I am convinced the war will last a long time, so eventually everyone will fight.

The world has entered an era of restructuring, and it will be painful. The hot phase of the war may pause, but until fundamental issues between the West and China (and its authoritarian allies, including Russia) are resolved, there will be no peaceful life not only in Ukraine but in Europe in general.

So if sooner or later I would be forcibly mobilized anyway, then it was better to do it early and voluntarily, but on my own terms. This logic proved itself right: In Ukraine, volunteers choose their own units and future positions, and the best military units compete for motivated volunteers.

Paradoxically, I now feel safer in the army — because I am trained and prepared to protect my own life.

The third reason is foolish and selfish, and I almost feel embarrassed writing about it. But all my life I dreamed of becoming a good writer, of writing something alive and real. And war is the defining experience of my generation. However it ends, this trauma will stay with us forever. I did not want to remain an observer.

Forgive my boyishness, but I joined the army not only to know the truth, but also to have the moral right to describe it.

The final straw was volunteering — the very thing that, in the first stages of the war, allowed me to feel effective in the rear. Honestly, I burned out completely in that sphere.

Because volunteering, ideally, is like poetry for a poet: you write it when you have inspiration. It should be work done in your free time outside your main job, but it consumed more time and effort than my main work ever did.

By the fifth year of the invasion, collecting donations and maintaining the pace became harder and harder, while the feeling of satisfaction from this 24/7 work became weaker and weaker. I joke that I simply wanted to move to the next level: from someone who helps to someone who is helped.

So in January, I became a serviceman of the Armed Forces of Ukraine.

Strangely enough, now I am no longer afraid of death, because under such conditions, death is fate, something over which you have limited control, so all that remains is to hope for luck.

What I fear most is that time and distance will destroy my family, sever my connection with my children. That I left to protect them, but war and separation will change us, and there will be no one left for me to return to.

Do I regret my decision to join the army? Mostly no, though sometimes loneliness becomes bitter. In such moments, I remember one of my first days of service, when I walked into a roadside village shop in uniform to buy a hot coffee.

Editor's note: The opinions expressed in the op-ed section are those of the authors and do not purport to reflect the views of the Kyiv Independent.