The fog of war: how many foreigners are fighting for Ukraine?
One report says the foreigners have all gone home, another report says Ukraine has an abundance of foreign help
It’s possible this month will be remembered as the fulcrum of the war in the Ukraine, in the same way early 1943 is considered the fulcrum of World War II. Up till now the Russian assault has been intense, and Ukraine has suffered greatly. But now the Russian attack seems to be weakening, even as Ukraine is receiving a flood of aid from the West.
The news this week has been full of conflicting reports, some bleak, others more hopeful.
I offer this only to capture this moment in time, as a reminder of how confusing it can be, trying to understand a war while it is happening. Receiving contradictory reports is very much a part of war. Years from now we will have a much more accurate picture of what happened, and when, but for now we are buffeted by rumors.
Here is the New Yorker:
In April, Russian forces retreated from northern Ukraine in order to concentrate on the Donbas, in the east. The G.U.R. sent Doc and his comrades to a region there called Donetsk. The fighting intensified. Over the spring and summer, two members of Doc’s unit were killed and several injured. Others went home. When we met in Kyiv, his team had dwindled to five men, and the contraction reflected a broader trend. In March, Ukraine’s Foreign Minister had stated that twenty thousand people, from fifty-two countries, had expressed interest in signing up for the International Legion. That month in Kyiv, I’d met numerous Americans and Europeans eager to join the war effort, and a room in the train station had been dedicated to welcoming such new arrivals. The Legion refuses to disclose how many members it now counts, but it is nowhere near twenty thousand.
The New Yorker paints a bleak picture of Ukraine. The article emphasizes how few foreign allies are in Ukraine, and also how unprepared they are, and how ready to run away and go home they are:
Many foreigners, no matter how seasoned or élite, were unprepared for the reality of combat in Ukraine: the front line, which extends for roughly seven hundred miles, features relentless, industrial-scale violence of a type unknown in Europe since the Second World War. The ordeal of weathering modern artillery for extended durations is distinct from anything that Western soldiers faced in Iraq or Afghanistan (where they enjoyed a monopoly on such firepower). “Once you’ve been dropped on heavy—ninety per cent of people can’t handle that, even if they’re combat-experienced,” Doc told me.
At our lunch, Doc seemed conflicted himself about whether he would continue fighting. Two weeks later, though, he decided to return to Donetsk. I asked to go with him. The Ukrainian military has been extraordinarily opaque about how it is executing the war, and journalistic embeds are almost nonexistent. Despite the historic magnitude of the conflict, our concept of the battlefield derives largely from brief, edited video clips released by the government or posted by soldiers.
The New Yorker also emphasizes that language is a barrier that reduces effectiveness, and turnover is high, suggesting that few stick around long enough to develop a process of fighting that can be effective:
Trust between international volunteers and the Ukrainian military was crucial yet precarious. Language was an obvious hurdle. When Doc first rotated to Donetsk, a Portuguese team member whose parents were Ukrainian would translate from Ukrainian to Portuguese, which a Brazilian member would translate to Spanish, which an American member would translate to English. Each link in that chain had since left the country. Turtle had persuaded a Ukrainian friend who spoke English to come to Donetsk, but he was a civilian, and so he mostly stayed at the house.
Another persistent obstacle was the fact that both Ukraine and the Legion were constantly losing and replacing men. The 72nd Mechanized Brigade had assumed control of the area in August. Before that, the foreigners had worked with another brigade, the 53rd, which had fully integrated them into its operations and had furnished them with coveted Javelins. On near-daily missions, the team had pushed forward Ukrainian positions, ambushed enemy tanks, and planted mines behind Russian lines.
The New Yorker even suggests that Ukrainian soldiers dislike their foreign allies to such an extent that they are ready to open fire on them:
While the 72nd was settling in, Doc had gone on vacation, to the Spanish party island of Ibiza. Before his return, the team had undertaken to secure a tree line where, Herring’s drone surveillance indicated, Russian soldiers occupied a trench system. The foreigners left Pavlivka late in the evening. Although they had briefed the 72nd on their route, a Ukrainian unit opened fire on them as they approached. The team shot back. “We won, they didn’t,” Turtle told me.
Despite the negative coverage, the New Yorker acknowledges that sometimes the foreign allies are able to do some good:
While the Ukrainians evacuated their casualties, the team proceeded with its mission. Turtle and Tai established a machine-gun position in a field; everybody else continued on foot. T.Q. and Herring were there, as were four Americans, a Frenchman called Nick, and a third Kiwi, Dominic Abelen. The men followed a trench until they came upon a complex of dugouts and bunkers full of Russian troops—far more than they had anticipated. Most were asleep or just waking up. A frenzied close-quarters fight ensued. Using rifles and grenades, the team killed at least a dozen soldiers. Turtle and Tai, from across the field, assailed additional Russians with the machine gun.
But even that ends badly:
As the sun rose, and the foreigners lost the advantage of their night vision, they became overwhelmed. Abelen was shot in the head while attempting to withdraw from the trench. He died instantly. One of the Americans, a twenty-four-year-old Army veteran named Joshua Jones, was wounded in the thigh. A bullet pierced Nick’s hindside. Another American, a former marine who went by Saint, was struck in his elbow and foot.
Jones, bleeding profusely, screamed for help. But Russian mortars had begun to zero in on the machine-gun position, and any effort to retrieve him or Abelen would have been suicidal. The team retreated, linked up with Turtle and Tai, and delivered Nick and Saint to a hospital. A round had smashed into Turtle’s chest plate, and Herring found a bullet hole in the crotch of his pants. That afternoon, they attempted to return to the trench, but heavy shelling forced them back. When Herring flew a drone over the scene, the bodies were still there. Two days later, the Russians had collected them.
Why were these soldiers were unable to call for any artillery help? Are they not integrated into the overall military of Ukraine? Why are they left on their own? The New Yorker implies that the Ukrainians hate their foreign allies so much that they were willing to let them die:
The debacle had further strained the team’s rapport with the 72nd. No Ukrainians had died in the exchange of friendly fire, and Turtle didn’t know how many had been injured, but he allowed, “That might be why some people don’t like us in this area anymore.” The leeriness was mutual. Members of the brigade’s reconnaissance company—with which the team was supposed to coördinate—had followed the foreigners partway through the tree line, and had agreed to provide additional backup if anything went wrong. Yet none of the Ukrainians had joined the battle with the Russians. (One of them later told me that their radio had malfunctioned and they had not heard the team’s call for help.)
Why is there so much turnover? Why do so many foreign allies leave? One possible answer is given:
The critical difference is that foreigners are free to leave when they want. They can also refuse to carry out specific requests or tasks. Everything they do is voluntary.
To a civilian, this may sound appealing. But any service member knows that such an arrangement not only contradicts the basic premise on which functioning militaries are built; it also imposes an oppressive burden on individual soldiers. On our way to Donetsk, Doc had explained to me, “In the Marines, it didn’t matter what shit you threw at us,” because disobeying orders was never an option. He attributed the Legion’s high attrition rate to the stress of having to constantly choose whether to participate in risky missions: “It’s a cumulative effect. It stacks up in your mind.”
From the New Yorker article, one is left with a relentlessly negative view of the war, and especially the role of foreign allies in the war.
A different image of the war is given by the New York Times. In this account, foreign allies have flooded into Ukraine and continue to flood in, so much so that Ukraine has more soldiers than it knows what to do with:
Ukraine’s military commanders have long said they do not lack soldiers for the war, but they have nonetheless welcomed to their ranks thousands of volunteers, including foreign citizens. Many of them, like the Chechens, are refugees from Russia itself. Others have come from surrounding nations, like Georgia, that have a history of opposition to Moscow and the leadership of President Vladimir V. Putin.
“We saw what was happening,” said Muslim Madiyev, a gray-bearded deputy commander of the Chechen battalion, wearing ear protectors to muffle the sound of gunfire as he watched the training exercises. “Ukraine has no shortage of men, but we have to join and be a part of this war.”
In this article the focus is on those fighters who come from those nationalities and ethnic groups that border on Russia, or who are inside of Russia, and who have been brutally oppressed by Russia, and so they are looking for revenge:
But the younger fighters in his battalion take things further.
“Our aim is the liberation of the Chechen Republic of Ichkeria,” a Chechen fighter said, using the name of the erstwhile self-declared republic, “and to help all the nations who want it, to gain freedom.” In accordance with military protocol, he gave only his code name, Maga.
The Chechens are only one example of numerous ethnic-based battalions and regiments that have been forming in Ukraine since Russia’s invasion last February.
Fighters from Belarus have formed a regiment thousands strong. Other volunteers come from the Caucasus and Central Asia, as well as from ethnic minorities that have large populations in Russia: Chechens, Tatars and Turkic-speaking groups.
Most of them are motivated by historical grievances of dispossession and suppression by Moscow. Chechens and Tatars were among many groups that were decimated by forcible deportations under Stalin in the 1940s.
Those volunteers who come from Russia, nor near Russia, often know how to speak Russian, which facilitates communication and seems to help avoid some of the communication issues that plagued the units that are mostly Western (as was covered in the New Yorker article). From the New York Times:
But the volunteers from former Soviet republics are, in many ways, even more useful.
They have a linguistic advantage because most speak Russian, which is widely spoken in Ukraine, and sometimes Ukrainian, making coordination with the Ukrainian military easier. And some, like a group of Georgians in the Kavkaz Legion, have battlefield experience, having served with the NATO-led force in Afghanistan.
Their knowledge of Russia and Russians, and their hatred of Moscow, has made the volunteers good undercover operators for Kyiv. Some Ukrainian officials and lawmakers have even expressed support for their causes. In October, for example, the Ukrainian Parliament passed a motion recognizing the Chechen Republic of Ichkeria as a territory occupied by Russia.
While Western fighters only seem motivated by a kind of moral idealism, which may not be enough to keep them fighting, these refugees from Russian oppression are motivated by a hatred of Russia, which is perhaps a stronger motivation:
He says he has recruited Azerbaijanis, Tatars and Chinese Uyghurs to the group, and he talks passionately about the marginalization and oppression of Turkic-speaking minorities in Russia. He said that Moscow had unfairly drawn conscripts for the war predominantly from remote and poorer regions of Russia, including those populated by Turkic-speaking ethnic minorities, who have been killed in far greater numbers than ethnic Russians.
But Mr. Kudabek said members of his unit could turn that injustice to their advantage, infiltrating Russian-occupied territory on sabotage missions and even passing themselves off as Russian soldiers.
“We just want to fight Russians,” he said. “We know what they are.”
The Kyiv Independent has another article which emphasizes how terrible the fighting is, with heavy losses on all sides:
Time after time, other Ukrainian howitzers rattle the air. The thunder of impact rolls through the steppe, and plumes of whitish smoke rise on the horizon. The artillery duel between Russians and Ukrainians is brutal. Russian artillery is attacking from Opytne, a town just south of Bakhmut.
“Hey, did you see what happened to those dudes from our regiment the other day?” one of the crew tells his mates.
“By some miracle, the recon told them Russians were about to target their area. So they took cover at the last minute. But their machine is absolutely down. A knock-out hit.”
He pulls out a picture of a burning 2S1 howitzer on his smartphone.
“Shit happens, but they are all fine now.”
Tanks, Humvees, and seen-it-all 4x4 trucks roar time and again near the house as they try to dash through the unbelievable swamps of dirt roads.
The radio buzzes again.
“Ah, fuck,” the artillerymen drop their cigarettes and rush to the gun.
Two rounds are requested. The infantry fighting in Bakhmut need urgent support.
The howitzer gets loaded. The coordinates have been adjusted.
“Fire!” the gun’s commander shouts.
The old Soviet howitzer spits out a shot, instantly filling the air with smoke and the smell of expelled propellant. And one more time. The work is done — for now.
The crew get back to the same rhythm of waiting in a cold abandoned house for command. The wait may last a few minutes or painfully endless hours.
But even this article is more positive than the article in the New Yorker, as this article emphasizes that Russia seems to be losing its strength:
Many indicators allege that Russia’s pressure in Bakhmut is finally reaching its limits.
Ukrainian forces are sustaining between 3 and 8 infantry attacks in the area daily, according to troops on the ground. But over the last few weeks, Russians were seen switching to using small squads of between 10 and 15 men instead of company or battalion-sized tactical groups.
Besides, Russian airborne units were also reportedly deployed to the Bakhmut area to augment the Wagner Group, seriously degraded after months of costly attacks.
Another factor is the reportedly diminishing Russian artillery power.
In late December, Budanov said that the daily spending of Russian artillery in combat dropped from 60,000 to between 19,000 and 20,000 rounds by the end of 2022.
Moreover, according to the general, by March 2023, these issues will be even more obvious.
On Dec. 24, the United Kingdom’s Ministry of Defense also said Russian forces currently lack the necessary stockpile to support large-scale offensive operations and sustain defensive operations in Ukraine.
Rumors on deteriorating munitions have been circulating for quite some time in Russian pro-war Telegram channels. An escalation came on Dec. 27, when the Wagner Group released a video in which two militants insult Russia’s Chief of General Staff Valeriy Gerasimov and accuse him of severe lack of artillery munitions in the Bakhmut area.
Still, this is Bakhmut, the most brutal battle of the war, and Ukraine has suffered heavy losses here. The article also emphasizes that:
The infantry of Bakhmut — sick, tired, full of bitter resentment — has its own point of view on what’s going on with the most monstrous and dramatic battle of Russia’s war.
“It’s hard even to describe our death toll in there,” soldiers say as they get back to the line after a long-awaited yet short rest in the rear.
“It’s beyond horrific, it’s something a sane human mind can’t imagine. We repel at least three major attacks every single day."
"And Russians roll on, and on, and on, and on. They never stop throwing their scum at us. Sometimes we can hear Wagner commanders talk on communications: ‘Run to the Ukrainian trenches, and whoever makes it — you know what to do."
These articles that report from the battlefield naturally emphasize the horrific violence of the battlefield, and as such they are automatically dark: any battlefield is a nightmare. But if we pull back from the specific stories of Ukrainian troops under heavy fire, and suffering heavy losses, then on a wider scale, the evidence that Russia is weakening seems more obvious. Sarah Ashton-Cirillo writes:
According to a live broadcast with the Oblast Governor, Vyacheslav Gladkov, certain districts in Belgorod, including Shebekinsky, are “under shelling by the Armed Forces of Ukraine every day." This has resulted in significant damage to infrastructure that is unable to be repaired due to a failing budget. Gladkov lamented that the federal government still hadn’t provided aid. “But now it has become difficult - there has been a sharp reduction in regional budget revenues. I hope that federal assistance will arrive soon,” the embattled governor said.
Again, it will be years before we know the truth. For now, the fog of war shrouds the facts. Is Russia weakening? Does it have the resources to go on fighting for another year? No one knows. All we have is conflicting reports, from which we have to try to guess the truth. However, the reports we have right now are suggestive: the emerging pattern is consistent with a narrative that Russia exhausted itself with some final offensives in November and December, but going forward we will see Ukraine increasingly set the pace of the war.