A vast field stretches out, with pine trees visible in the distance marking the beginning of the forest. The deep, resonant sound of a cannon shot is followed immediately by bursts of automatic gunfire. Throughout the field, there are groups of soldiers in camouflage. Overhead, the buzzing of a drone is audible.
What sounds like a scene from the frontlines of war is actually a training exercise for Ukrainian army recruits in the central part of the country. (For security reasons, the exact location cannot be disclosed – all such training centres are constant targets for Russian missiles.)
On this day, the group consists of 12 new recruits and 12 fighters who have been on the frontlines since the war began in 2022. Some soldiers in the Ukrainian army, which now numbers 1.2 million people, underwent an abbreviated form of this training at the start of the war – for a week or even just three days. But as the war drags on, comprehensive training has become a priority – with the Ukrainian Parliament in May passing a new mobilization law requiring all conscripts to undergo this 35-day basic military instruction course.
The soldiers are preparing to carry out the next exercise – shooting at static targets with live ammunition. First standing, then sitting, then lying down. The recruits, upon command, approach the firing line, each accompanied by an instructor wearing an orange construction vest over their military uniform for easy identification. Every shot is taken under close supervision. One of the recruits has just fired all his rounds.
“Weapons for inspection!” commands the instructor in a firm voice. The soldier detaches the magazine, shows it is empty, opens the bolt, shows it is clear, puts the safety on, and only then does the instructor permit him to stand and return to the formation
“Safety rules for handling weapons are written in blood,” one of the instructors, a tall and broad-shouldered man named Ostap, says later. (The Globe is not identifying the instructors or recruits for security reasons.) “Yes, we instructors can be very strict, and some of the guys might not like it, but I’m not here to be liked. I’m here to teach them to handle weapons so that they kill the enemy and not injure themselves or their comrades.”
The shooting continues for about two hours. The smell of gunpowder wafts across the training ground. Soldiers who have finished rest in the shade of the trees. It’s a hot June day, and each of them is wearing a bulletproof vest, helmet and other gear, weighing between 12 to 15 kilograms. Many find it difficult to endure such loads in the heat.
“Yes, it’s hard for me, but at times like these, it’s shameful not to be in the army,” says Andriy. Before being drafted, the 30-year-old from the Cherkassy region worked at an advertising agency. After he shoots at targets 25 and 100 metres away, the instructors praise him – his accuracy is the highest among all the recruits, even though he had just held a weapon and fired live rounds for the first time in his life.
This group is in their third week of training, approximately halfway through the five-week course. After the end of the shooting exercises, the instructors line up the soldiers to spend another half hour explaining what they did right and what they did wrong. The new soldiers listen silently, while the seasoned fighters occasionally interrupt and ask questions. None of the instructors reprimand them for this breach of military protocol. Their shared combat experience creates an easy understanding among them.
Soon, the soldiers climb into a large truck, which returns them to their permanent camp.
The pace of life here is unfamiliar to anyone leaving civilian life. Wake-up is at 6:30 a.m., followed by exercise, then formation with the commander. Breakfast is next, a brief rest and then training. In bulletproof vests and helmets and carrying weapons, recruits run and do push-ups and squats under the scorching sun. “I know it’s hard,” says the instructor, who, in the same gear, also performs the exercises, “but this stress is necessary so that you can easily handle any stressful situation on the frontline. And there are plenty of challenges there, believe me.”
The next day the training shifts to tactical medicine – the ability to provide first aid on the battlefield. The MARCH method, a protocol to determine the best order of treatment developed by the U.S. Army, is now being thoroughly studied by all the Ukrainian soldiers. “We start with the letter M – massive bleeding. Who knows its signs?” asks the instructor. This time, both seasoned fighters and recent recruits respond. It turns out many had attended tactical medicine training in their civilian lives before joining the army.
However, they all make one mistake – they immediately try to help the wounded by applying a tourniquet to their arm or leg without moving them somewhere safe. The instructor stops them.
“You are on the battlefield. There is constant gunfire. First, you must ensure that the wounded are in a safe zone. Keep your weapon ready; the enemy could be nearby. Otherwise, there won’t be just one casualty, but two – you and the wounded.”
Coarser words creep into his speech, not unusual for soldiers. There are three women in this group, but none complain about the swearing or the physical demands. “In the army, there’s complete gender equality. We are soldiers first, and men or women second,” says Svetlana, who has short cropped hair. She is 35 years old and was an accountant in civilian life. In the army, she will also work in finance, but the law requires even those in non-combat roles to complete the training course.
The instructor for tactical medicine demonstrates on himself how to correctly apply a tourniquet to an arm or leg to stop bleeding. Then, all the soldiers do the same. He checks, and almost everyone makes mistakes – either the tourniquet is too loose or it takes too long to apply, more than a minute. “Your mistake could cost someone’s life – yours or your comrade’s,” he says, ordering them to repeat the exercise again and again.
Next, he designates several soldiers as “casualties.” They lie on the ground, and the others must take turns demonstrating the sequence of actions for providing aid on the battlefield.
In the afternoon, an alarm sounds at the centre, and everyone descends into a large bomb shelter. Here, in several spacious rooms, soldiers from different groups gather. They sit on wooden pallets, discussing the latest news from the frontlines or comparing how they handled various training exercises. One group has already completed three weeks of training, while another has only finished one. Those who know what’s ahead give advice to the newcomers.
The training course doesn’t only cover fighting; mental health is also on the agenda. The moral and psychological state of the soldiers falls under the responsibility of the deputy commander of the training battalion, Alexander. He joined the army in the first days of the invasion, fought several battles and suffered concussions.
Due to his health, he was reassigned to the training centre. In his classes, there are no physical exercises. He shows videos about the war and the manipulation of consciousness in Russian propaganda, constantly asking questions to provoke lively debates.
After a week of intense training, Sunday arrives – a day off. Many head to the nearest town to take a break. “I was walking through the market in my uniform, wanting to buy apricots, and they gave them to me for free,” one of the recruits says. Soldiers are often met with respect from civilians, but for recruits, this is a new experience.
At the end of the 35 days, the soldiers are assigned to military units. However, some may stay for another month if they want to learn skills in another military profession, such as drone operator or grenade launcher.
What surprises the new recruits most during their training is not the physical demands – they understood those would be part of the experience. It’s the attitude of the seasoned fighters, who have been on the frontlines for more than two years.
None of the veterans criticize the newcomers or ask why they didn’t join the army at the start of the war. On the contrary, their tone is supportive and trusting, “We don’t distinguish between those who have fought longer and those who haven’t,” says Alexander. “If you’re in the army now, you’re already defending the country. We’re all equal.”