To one side of a military base, comfortably far from the front line, a large group of Latin Americans gathered one October morning in late 2024.
There were a few Brazilians, two Chileans, a Uruguayan, an Argentinian, a Spaniard and dozens of Colombians. Their induction began, in a crowded corridor, with an official briefing – not in Ukrainian, not even in English, but in Spanish.
This is the result of a finely tailored process, a recognition of the huge influx of Hispanic fighters – mainly from Colombia – over the past two years. It is a route to officialize Latino fighters through a proper induction into the Ukrainian Armed Forces, training them as Ukrainian soldiers – and not rushing them through to the front as hired guns.
As Sergeant Luis Ortiz explained, the process serves equally to protect these new recruits, who might otherwise be taken advantage of if they lack the correct documentation.
Sergeant Ortiz
Ortiz is the highest-ranking Colombian in the Ukrainian Armed Forces. He has been in Ukraine since the summer of 2023. After a minor injury to his left leg during combat, he now plays the crucial role of enlisting Latino recruits. He is effectively a bridge between cultures, and his rank is a recognition of the important role that Latin Americans have played, and will play, in Ukraine’s land offensive.
In Colombia, Ortiz was a Marine Corps warrant officer, having pursued his military vocation since the age of 16 in Medellín. In 2023, he began fighting in Kherson, in Battalion 197 of the 124th Brigade. He had arrived in Ukraine with a brother, who joined Battalion 193.
In fact, Ortiz fought alongside his brother in a trench for two days, when their units crossed paths.
Some months later, Ortiz was one of 10 Colombian soldiers transferred to the 79th Brigade who were then sent to the infamous Battle of Avdiivka.
Of them, only three survived.
At one point, they were trapped in an office of Nova Poshta, a private Ukrainian postal service, for three days, hiding whilst surrounded by Russian soldiers above and around them. There was an explosion, from which shrapnel and shockwaves shattered Ortiz’s kneecap.
His commander was impressed by his bravery and commitment to defend other Ukrainians – but felt it would be fairer for Ortiz to help his own compatriots. Slightly injured, and away from the battlefield, Ortiz was offered a much more significant administrative role in the logistics of processing the ever-increasing Latin American contingent: a good 1,200 individuals in his first four months.
Now Ortiz is building such a positive reputation that new Latino recruits ask for him when they arrive from abroad. Even passport control at the Polish border knows his name.
“I now understand that when a Ukrainian soldier shows you the photo of their family, it is because you have a friend for life.”
Earning recognition
Ortiz remembers how, during his first month of service, he was the only foreigner in a Ukrainian unit.
Nobody spoke his native Spanish, and he was yet to learn Ukrainian. Even his initial training was entirely in Ukrainian. His comrades ignored him and went to dinner without him. He was an outsider and a nobody.
Everything changed, however, once the first assault mission occurred. During an ambush in a bunker, Ortiz was one of a handful of soldiers to kill an enemy invader and save the group. So, when his Latin surname was announced on the radio that evening, he was applauded and celebrated as an equal.
“Suddenly, the other soldiers were bringing food to my bed. Half a bottle of vodka,” Ortiz chuckled.
“One Ukrainian lent me his jacket, when it was freezing. Another guy cared to check that his cigarette smoke did not bother me.”
This is why Ortiz’s work is so important, as a role model to Ukrainian eyes. Somebody can be an outsider until they are not. His very existence reminds Ukrainians that Colombians are fellow humans, and useful ones at that.
“We came to support the war,” Ortiz said. “Not to steal anybody’s factory job!”
Does the general public appreciate the contribution and sacrifice that so many Colombians are making in Ukraine?
“Little by little, Colombian soldiers are leaving a good impression,” Ortiz said. “I have a Ukrainian friend called Artur who is very respectful. We drink beer together. He tells others about Colombian coffee, never mentioning Pablo Escobar.”
“He gets it. He is even learning Spanish!”
Ortiz’s time in Ukraine also provided him with a deeper glimpse into the Ukrainian mentality.
“I now understand that when a Ukrainian soldier shows you the photo of their family, it is because you have a friend for life,” he said.
Ortiz felt it was the little details that mattered in such cultural exchanges. He was proud to have infiltrated the barracks’ kitchen with a Colombian cook who often prepared traditional chicken and rice. Ortiz regularly set up football matches between Ukrainian colleagues and Colombian newcomers. He also shared subtitled Spanish films that he recommended with friends.
In return, he has worked hard to improve his own Ukrainian language skills – a hugely important factor in securing the attention and respect of anyone else in the Ukrainian military, beyond his office.
Ortiz’s work is critical to more Colombians operating legitimately within Ukraine. By securing an official registration with a tax number upon arrival, future Latino soldiers can expect the same rights (and pay) as Ukrainian soldiers performing the same job.
“Many [Colombians] arrive misinformed. They are told not to register [here], as that would take 20 days. ‘Go straight to the battalion, and we will process you in eight days!’ they are told. Once there, they start to notice something is off, but it’s too late.”
If new arrivals sign a formal contract, with the correct three stamps – division, brigade & battalion – they will likely get paid on time and have the right to the corresponding compensation for serious injury or death. With the military ID card, they can enjoy free transportation across Ukraine’s vast railway network.
All new recruits also undergo a medical and psychological check before initiating their introductory training, as well as a background check via the United Nations to ensure there is no criminal history.
Such due process is important, and Ortiz wanted the word to get around so he could welcome all incoming Latin American soldiers, helping to support them in doing so.
“You make new friends, and then you watch them vanish.”
Old and new recruits – both fresh
Wílder has been in Ukraine for over two years. He fought in Kupyansk, in the northeast Kharkiv region bordering Russia, but his battalion has since broken up. He wanted to re-register to enter the Ukrainian military more formally.
As a former Colombian general, he is known informally as a “guazo” – short for “antiguazo” (roughly translated as a “grand oldie”). Forced retirement and a pension back home meant that Ukraine was a new financial opportunity. But it was also a chance to be useful again, to reconnect with the adrenaline of combat.
But this has not always been easy.
“You make new friends, and then you watch them vanish,” Wílder said. “I knew a French guy who spoke Spanish – he got left behind. It’s tough. We get squeezed, and it gets really cold and there are more drones now than ever before.”
He is a devout Catholic, regularly praying to God. Divine intervention, he believed, somehow saved his life and his leg – which sustains a shrapnel injury. He found Orthodox churches both pretty and pretty golden.
“My parents passed away a while ago,” he said. “I would never have come here had they still been alive. My mother would have died even earlier!”
“It was so nice to be welcomed in Colombian Spanish!” Fresh Colombian recruit, call-sign España
And then there was a much younger recruit: España.
Despite his surname meaning Spain, he is from the southern city of Ipiales, close to the border with Ecuador. He had only been in Ukraine for about a week.
“It is really helpful to have so many Colombians with previous experience advising us,” he said. “Ortiz was great – he spoke with real clarity, and it was so nice to be welcomed in Colombian Spanish!”
España has just offered to buy a bulletproof vest, relieved to be closer to completing his kit. The recruitment day was a job fair of sorts, with different brigades sending representatives to entice the recent arrivals to sign up.
“I have heard the horror stories on TikTok,” España said. “So it’s really important that I get this right. I want to do a good job in a serious brigade.”
TikTok is where many discussions occur between Colombians considering a move to Ukraine. As is often the case with social media, one needs to keep a critical eye open.
“There is one charlatan online who goes by the name of Mil Amores [1,000 loves]. This guy only came here for three months and then went back to Colombia talking a load of rubbish, anywhere he could, desperate for media attention,” España said.
“Sensationalist interviews. What a joke!”
But there are positive role models too. Wílder mentioned a young Colombian man who goes by the alias Arabe Montañero. He is an amputee veteran who plays basketball with a local Ukrainian team. He creates a lot of content online, ever optimistic in spirit.
“He is a real inspiration to all of us,” Wílder said. “Many Colombians follow him.”
The non-recruit
Perhaps the most relaxed Colombian around was Edwin, casually in a tracksuit, hoping to play football after lunch – having just sold his old bulletproof vest to España.
More than two years had passed since Edwin arrived in Ukraine, meaning his military contract had ended and he was no longer in active service.
“I spent 14 months with the International Legion, assault on the frontline. Mines, drones, artillery – it was tricky,” Edwin said. “But I came to help, not to make money. I was already earning a pretty decent salary in Dubai.”
He had worked in VIP private security for a sheikh, earning $2,300 per month – he once escorted the president of the football team Manchester City, I was told. Edwin still carried an Emirati military ID.
“Colombia is a poor country though. Well, very rich and also poor, right? So for many compatriots, it is about money as our soldiers often come from humble backgrounds. And the Colombian government does not pay our military well,” he said
Edwin had fought with a group of British soldiers, and said his English was not bad. But he was working on his Ukrainian, as he has been married to a Ukrainian lady for a year and a half, living nearby.
“Like us Colombians, Ukrainians are also very much into football. They also have players in the big European teams,” Edwin shared.
“Ukrainians are good people. I enjoy their company.”
Author’s note: With special thanks to Ortiz, Wílder, España & Edwin for their time.
This is the second installment in a special weekly series examining the role of Colombian fighters in Ukraine’s battle against Russia’s invasion. See the first here.
Stay tuned for more.