For three days and two nights, he crawled through enemy territory, alone, wounded, and running on nothing but sheer will. Trapped between opposing forces, with bullets and shells flying overhead, he navigated only by sound – listening to gunfire, feeling the vibrations of explosions, and trusting his instincts.
He was officially listed as missing in action, presumed dead. Back home, his wife had already been told he was gone. His unit had started preparing his funeral.
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But he wasn’t dead.
This is the story of ‘Khokhol,’ a soldier from Ukraine’s military intelligence (HUR) unit “Artan,” as told in an exclusive video interview with Kyiv Post.
The enemy came to kill “khokhols” – a slur Russians use for Ukrainians, stemming from Cossack ancestry. So he took it as his callsign. If they came to destroy him, he would ensure they failed.
Khokhol is a soldier in Ukraine’s military intelligence unit, trained to defend his country, his family, and his people. The Soviet-style methods of the past were long abandoned. Now, they train with NATO standards – mentally, physically, and tactically.
“Motivation is crucial,” he says.
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“If you know why you’re doing this, you will succeed. You will find the strength to complete any mission.”
Surrounded
One mission, however, pushed him beyond the limits of human endurance.
His platoon had been surrounded. There was no question – they had to go in and get them out. A storm group was formed to break through the enemy cordon, and Khokhol was in that group.
They succeeded in extracting their comrades, but the way back was treacherous. Drones covering their retreat had to pull back to recharge, and their night vision devices had run out of power. In the darkness, they missed a crucial turn and walked straight into enemy territory.
“It was me, five enemy prisoners, and two of my guys. We passed two enemy positions unnoticed and got about 300 meters in before we were stopped.”
The Russian troops demanded a password. Confused, Khokhol and his men instinctively responded with their own: “We are with Khokhol.” The Russian soldiers hesitated.
Then, realization struck both sides at once. Gunfire erupted at a distance of mere meters. Chaos followed.
The prisoners were killed by their own side. “I ordered my men to retreat, but I was caught in the middle,” he recalls.
Only one option
Alone, with grenades and RPGs raining down on his position, there was no way back. He had only one option – forward.
“I ran deeper into the field, about seventy, maybe a hundred meters. Then a grenade landed close. And everything went black.”
When he came to, he realized something strange. The enemy wasn’t advancing on him. They could see him – but they weren’t coming.
Then it dawned on him: the field was mined. He was trapped in no-man’s land. His only option was to crawl.
What followed was a three-day, two-night fight for survival. He was stuck between enemy and friendly lines, moving only in the brief pauses between gunfire.
“I navigated by sound – listening to the weapons, trying to figure out which direction to go.”
He slept in five-minute intervals, always keeping his weapon pointing forward so he wouldn’t lose his bearings.
His body was failing.
A grenade blast had ruptured his eardrum, and shrapnel was lodged in his skull and torso. He had no food, no water. Hallucinations set in. His wife appeared to him in the fog of exhaustion, urging him on, keeping him from giving in.
Back home, she was told he was dead. His unit had already started preparing his funeral.
Still, he crawled.
By the third day, he reached a cemetery. It was the first place he found food – four walnuts – and his first sip of water. Dizziness overtook him, but he forced himself to continue.
Then he saw movement. A bunker. Voices. He had no idea whether it was the enemy or his own side. He disassembled and cleaned his weapon, reloaded, and moved in.
“I was seconds away from opening fire,” he says.
“Then, over the radio, I heard them speaking Ukrainian, coordinating mortar strikes. I realized – they were ours.”
They gave him food, water, and a location where he could be extracted. But it was still four kilometers away, and the road was under fire. He had two choices: wait or move. He chose to move.
Step by step, he made his way to the transport point. Finally, after a week of being missing in action, he made contact with his command. His callsign echoed over the radio: “Khokhol, Khokhol.” They couldn’t believe it was him.
When he arrived at the command post, the first thing he asked for was a phone. He called his wife. “I’m sorry it took me so long to crawl back,” he told her.
She didn’t hesitate: “If you hadn’t crawled out, I would have killed you myself.”
He laughed: “All right. We’ll talk later.”
War is unpredictable. It’s a living organism, he says. Every day, both sides adapt, searching for weaknesses.
“Right now, we all have one goal – to end this war. To clear the sky over our children’s heads. To give them a future.”
But the cost has been heavy. Many friends are gone.
Their unit’s doors remain open. He trains new recruits, preparing them for the missions ahead. Some will survive. Others won’t.
Kyiv Post could not verify the details of Khokhol’s account or his mission.
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