CHERNIHIV, Ukraine – Suddenly, a wave of fear rolls over as I follow several border guard officers down the sandy steps into a freshly dug-out blindage in Girsk. It was made to shelter men from potential Russian gunfire, and somehow inside it the prospect of war feels real.
The Girsk border guard unit is located
some nine kilometers from the Belarussian border and 37 kilometers from
the Russian one. Hundreds of camouflaged men live here in expectation of
a hit from the Russian troops amassed just 15 kilometers on the other
side.
“Even the officers from the
headquarters start to feel weak at the knees around here,” says
Oleksiy Sheremeta, commander of the local unit, who acts as a guide.
He said he felt the same early on, “but now I am sort of used to
it.”
For nearly two months, all border guard
officers in Chernihiv Oblast has been living in full combat readiness
to fend off an attack from Russia. There are 300 of them in charge
of more than 400 kilometers of the border with Russia, which they
know intimately.
On the other side, there is an
estimated 10,000-12,000 Russian troops amassed around Bryansk, and
some 400 units of armored military vehicles, including 100 tanks, and
a field hospital.
“I am not sure they set it up but we
did record its unloading in the third week of March,” says
Colonel Oleksandr Ptytsia, commander of the Chernihiv Oblast’s border
guard.
Three Russian drones were recorded
flying as far as 15 kilometers into Ukrainian territory over the
past month, and the Russians have been holding military exercises
increasingly closer to the border.
Most recently, just a few days ago, a
Russian armored BMDR vehicle came within 100 meters from the
territory of Ukraine. “This was a demonstration of power. They
are sending us a signal that they are on their own territory, and
don’t ask us any questions,” says Ptytsia. “But I do ask
questions because we have an agreement (between Ukraine and Russia)
that no military equipment can move around without an explanation.”
But the only explanation Russian
officials have given is that the military exercises close to
Ukrainian borders are held in response to “the prospect of use of
hard force against peaceful population,” Russian Defense Minister
Sergei Shoigu said.
In an April 28 conversation, he
assured his American counterpart Chuck Hagel that after Ukraine’s
assurance that it will not use the army against the population, “the
Russian units have been returned to their permanent deployment,”
according to the Russian Defense Ministry statement.
But the Chernihiv border guards know
it’s not true and have been carrying out many preparations, digging
out trenches, setting up concrete blocks on the road and tightening
border crossing procedures in conjunction with the State Security
Service, as well as increasing patrols and mobilizing additional
troops.
They have been supported by the local
residents, who have donated food and building materials, among other
things. As border guard troops show off their stocks of donated jams,
pickles and salo, they speak with awe that some of those jars
traveled all the way from Ternopil and Ivano-Frankivsk, which from
here seem much more distant than Russia.
The distance between Kyiv and Senkivka,
a crossing point where Russian, Ukrainian and Belarussian borders
adjoin, is only 227 kilometers. A Russian armored personnel carrier called Tiger, which
can travel at the speed of up to 70-80 kilometers per hour, can cover
this distance in a short time.
The border guards live in fear of an
attack. “To be honest I said goodbye to my wife the second time we
got battle alarm. I thought the state fed me and clothed me for 20
years, so maybe it’s time for me to pay off my duty,” says
Lieutenant Colonel Oleksandr Dudko.
But with all preparations, the border
guard understand they have no chance against a real army, and the
most they can achieve is to slow down the initial impact. They design
multi-tier strategies of how to buy time, but then, inevitably the
real soldiers would have to kick in.
A short drive away from the border a
mechanized army batallion set up camp in the forest. A very young
man, clearly a conscript, limps to the makeshift barrier made out of
a tree trunk to open up the way into the camp. This tiny, sad figure
makes a striking contrast with professional-looking border guards.
Behind the back of the thin youth one can see tanks and trucks covered up by tree branches. A handful of
dingy tents complete the camp that was set up here two weeks ago.
The army unit looks like a withered
muscle that has not been trained for decades.
“We
have had no general mobilization (in Ukraine) since 1941, so
obviously there are some problems,” says Brigade Commander Andriy
Hrytskov.
He
clearly downplays those problems. The military vehicles and equipment
all come from the Soviet stock, and are upwards of 30 years old. Some
commanders wear uniforms with NATO-style insignia on their chest – a
good sign. They served in peace-keeping operations and have at least
some idea of how a real army works.
“Ukraine
had no reason to have a good army for more than two decades. The idea
of a war in Europe until now seemed inconceivable,” says Oleksandr
Lytvynenko, deputy secretary of the National Security and Defense Council,
who came to inspect the troops in the region.
Men
seem to be as big a problem as the machines. Some of them carry a
strong odor of last night’s alcohol, others just go about their
business calmly, stolidly ferrying loafs of bread from the
trucks and sharpening sticks. They all carry assault rifles, mostly
from AK-70 series, reliable but very old.
The
Russian army, in contrast, is equipped with AK-100 series and later
modifications, which are able to shoot silently and with greater
density. These rifles were one of the first signs that the
camouflaged men who took over Crimea in February were, in fact,
Russian soldiers.
It
was recently admitted by Russian President Vladimir Putin. Now
similar weapons are used in eastern Ukraine, where one municipality
after another has been taken over in the past month by Russia-backed
separatists who are helped by well-trained special forces.
By
contrast, in the forest in Chernihiv region, most of the Ukrainian
soldiers were just called in during the March mobilization.
“We
have a problem, most of these guys are farmers. They say we need to
go home and plant,” one unit commander says. Men have no
idea how long they will be staying away from their homes. “I
get this question every day,” the commander says.
Kyiv Post deputy chief editor Katya Gorchinskaya can be reached at [email protected]
