Illia wanted to fight to liberate villages.
Near Sloviansk, in southeastern Ukraine, his battalion is now dislodging the Russians from simple hedges on the edge of meadows.
The soldier recounts the raids with four or eight infantrymen.
Fear at every meter.
The little voices that eat away at morale.
“This is where we are.
We fight for trees.
» A cigarette trembles at his fingertips.
Sometimes the invader takes revenge.
The barely won groves are destroyed and bombarded.
The 33-year-old rubs his reddened eyes, a long strand plastered to his close-cropped hair.
He hopes that the enemy will eventually exhaust his machines.
That his artillery will run out of steam.
That the shadow of Russia will finally leave the Ukrainian horizon.
His pale face straightens.
“Basically, I continue to defend Maidan.
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