"We need more missiles": Viktoriia, a senior lieutenant in air defence, tells her story

As the mother of two school-age children, servicewoman Viktoriia Kuzmina had cast-iron legal grounds to leave the Armed Forces after her beloved husband was killed in action. Lieutenant Colonel Viktor Kuzmin was killed on 24 February 2022, the first day of Russia's full-scale invasion, defending the skies over Luhansk Oblast as a member of an anti-aircraft missile brigade.

But Viktoriia could not break the promise she had once made to Viktor: "Whatever happens next, I will stay. I'll do everything I can."

After the full-scale invasion, Viktoriia and her fellow troops mastered the Patriot air defence system in record time. Today she is a senior lieutenant in an anti-aircraft missile battalion in the Air Force – and a winner in this year's UP100 leaders' ranking by Ukrainska Pravda.

"You know, not long ago I asked myself: what have you not lost over these years?" Viktoriia says. "And I have an answer: humanity. Despite burying soldiers every day, despite everything that's happened in the rear and on the front line, I still have humanity within me.

Some people no longer react to these daily losses. They turn away from grief. Some no longer feel the pain. But I still do. I thought time would pass and the pain would no longer be so sharp. But it's still there. It means I am human. I can feel it."

In this interview, Viktoriia Kuzmina talked to Ukrainska Pravda about her husband and their service in the Air Force, what it's like working in air defence, about change, and mastering the Patriot system.

This is her story, in her own words.

"Will you show me around Kyiv?"

When the time came to think about careers – it was 2004, my final year at school – I could see myself working in the tax inspectorate. The uniform, the discipline, my love for mathematics, something to do with economics and finance. It all seemed very me (she smiles). I like to do things properly, I like everything to be clear and according to the law.

But [for financial reasons] I didn't go into tax work, because my family was going through a tough time. My dad had died tragically, and my mother was raising me and my sister alone. I enrolled in the Academy of Water Transport in Kyiv to study Business Economics.

I met Viktor through friends when I was a student. We were from the same village in Khmelnytskyi Oblast, but we didn't know each other because it's a very large village, and he was seven years older.

At the time we met, Viktor had already graduated from Kharkiv Air Force University. He reminded me of my dad. In him, I immediately saw a confident, purposeful and serious man.

We talked for about six months. One day Viktor messaged me, "I've got a day off after duty. Will you show me around Kyiv? Let's go for a walk. I've been here almost two years and still don't know all the places."

I lived in the Podil district and knew the city well. We strolled through the old streets, Kontraktova Square, Andriivskyi Descent – all my favourite places. We visited St Andrew's Church.

When I was studying at the academy, I often came to that church seeking peace. Those were difficult times – my dad had died abroad in 2000, and my grandad died in 2005. They'd been my sources of support, the most important people in my life. I could always ask them for advice and get an answer to any life question.

Read more: How female volunteers from Bucha Territorial Defence Forces destroy Shahed drones with Maxim machine guns

Turning points

We got married when I was in my fourth year. I didn't work in economics for long. First our daughter was born, and two years later we had our son. So we had a "complete set" (smiles). Those were truly the happiest years of our lives.

Things started to change in 2013. First came the downsizing of the anti-aircraft missile forces under the then government, including S-200 systems being withdrawn "for mothballing". My husband was the last commander of an S-200 unit in Ukraine.

Then the Maidan protests began. Viktor sent me and the children away from Kyiv to Khmelnytskyi Oblast. I was glued to the TV. I couldn't believe innocent people were being killed in the centre of Kyiv.

It was rumoured that troops might be deployed against the protesters. I asked Viktor, "What will you do?" And he replied, "I'll just put down my weapon and say goodbye. I won't go against people or lead anyone against them. What are we, pawns? We swore an oath to the people."

In 2014, Viktor became the commander of a unit equipped with S-300 systems. At the time, those systems had not yet been used in combat in Ukraine. He said, "Switching from the S-200 to the S-300 is easy. The main thing is knowing the basics."

That's how he always was: learning, system, order. System, order, discipline.

From 2014 onwards, preparations began. Viktor told me what an adrenaline rush it was when the launchers were loaded and ready. When the order came to remove the safety catch, everything inside you tightened. But there were no combat launches then.

Even years before Maidan, the Russians who came to joint exercises would sometimes joke mockingly that one day they'd be coming to us in a different capacity. People mostly took it as a joke. But the wiser ones understood perfectly well.

You must stay at your position

I'm a Capricorn, so I need to be always growing and learning. That means work, work, work. Why did I join the military? The main reason – and I haven't told many people this – was to spend more time with my husband, to support and help him.

Service was never easy, even before the war and the full-scale invasion – training people, cooperating, working with equipment that needs continual supervision and maintenance.

Viktor never complained, but he would sometimes share problems or ask for advice. He was like me, and I was like him. I decided to become a soldier no matter what, to be by his side. And yes, there was still that schoolgirl dream of wearing a uniform (smiles).

He asked me several times: "Are you sure? Look how much time the work takes up. And we have children. There's war in the east. What if it comes closer to Kyiv? Do you understand the choice you're making?"

People thought I'd only last the three years of my contract. But I'm the kind of person who takes everything on from the word go. I needed to learn everything, know it inside out, be able to do everything so I wouldn't let Viktor down. So no one would whisper behind my back: "That's his wife. He brought her in."

He was the unit commander, and I tried my best so that he would never be ashamed of me. I worked a lot, I tried really hard. I came in as an ordinary soldier from civilian life, with no drill training or military education. I'd spent four years at home with the children, I'd done a lot of studying by myself – and then suddenly I was in the army. People, a lot of people that you have to be able to get on with.

I liked the service right from the start. Viktor was a good teacher: "Start with this book, then read this, then tell me what you understood." I studied, asked questions, then studied some more, until I was allowed on combat duty. First observing, then passing the theoretical exam.

Then came practice on duty. You work six months on a day-on, day-off schedule. You could sit half a day in that cabin. Hot or cold – you have to stay there and stare at the monitor continuously.

I liked it: working with the equipment, doing calculations, locking onto a target during exercises and "destroying" it.

"What was it all for?"

When the full-scale invasion began, I was with the children. I couldn't reach Viktor. They told me he had been killed. They couldn't retrieve his body for two weeks because the territory where he'd served was already occupied.

His commander and brothers-in-arms came to the funeral. I remember what those men looked like even then… This patch – "Baptised by Fire" (she shows us her sleeve) – is not for nothing. My unit was the first to defend the airspace over Kyiv Oblast.

The commander said, "Think about what you're going to do next. Will you return to service or not? I'll call you later."

I considered it for 40 days.

You can't bring back loved ones or friends. You can't turn back time. And you can't go back on a promise you made to a person who is part of your soul. Yes, I have children, I am responsible for them, and I could have left the service. But they will grow up and ask what choice I made during the war. Did I hide? Run away? Escape?

I asked myself: what was it all for – all that training, service, knowledge – if I'm not going to use it? If I can make some small contribution to victory and peace, then so be it.

It was hard at first. But when I started working again, the fear moved into the background. Completing the task became more important.

I remembered everything I had learned. You can't just work on autopilot according to the schemes you've studied. You have to analyse, calculate, communicate. Your hands, eyes and brain must work in sync.

We work as a team. The result always depends on the entire crew on duty – and on the work that's always going on, day and night, to ensure that everything is ready for a launch, and that the launch is effective.

Now I'm in the chain of command. I don't go on combat duty anymore, I have other tasks. Still, in a job like ours you can't be out of the loop. You have to keep learning, improving, analysing: what was the latest enemy tactic, what did we do, and what did they do?

When I go out to the positions, I see people who are ready to solve endless tasks, constantly improving things, changing things. They do everything that's possible – and sometimes things that seem impossible.

"I want our children to live in a different world"

When I see people on social media criticising soldiers or offering them advice, I always say, "Put on my shoes and walk in them." It's easy to talk when you don't know what this work is like. Try it. Come to us and have a go! Stand in defence of your country, your loved ones, all of us!

We have plenty of vacancies, but not many takers (she smiles). Because you have to take responsibility, accept the discipline, and commit to years of systematic work.

Professionalism doesn't come easily. If someone handed you a Browning [a heavy machine gun – UP] right now, sat you on a vehicle and sent you to shoot down Shahed attack drones, it wouldn't work. There are many stages to go through. To be effective, you need months or a year of training, discipline, repetition.

We have immense combat experience now. We know what to improve, how to fine-tune the equipment so that systems [Patriots and other Western air defence assets – ed.] work more effectively. We use all our skills in intense battles that can go on for hours. Other countries don't have anything that comes close to this experience. And both we and the enemy are constantly improving.

Unfortunately, we depend on supplies of weapons and missiles. We need more – a lot more. Without missiles, even the best systems and the best-trained people can do nothing. We need more missiles so there will be fewer destroyed businesses, energy facilities and civilian infrastructure.

Be that as it may, compared to 2014, we've taken an enormous leap forward in terms of knowledge and professional and personal development. I can see that in myself and in my people. 2022 changed everything. We have so many talented people! Everyone is working for the future.

I want our children to live in a different world, not in the reality the enemy is trying to impose on us. We have to do everything we can so our children can be free and make their own choices. So that one day we'll see civilian aircraft in the sky again.

You know, the first time we were abroad for training and we saw a passenger plane, it was indescribable (laughs). Someone pulled out their phone to film it, some people shouted and waved.

We were all thinking about when this peaceful life, with civilian planes in the skies above us, will return.

Yevhen Rudenko, Ukrainska Pravda

Translation: Myroslava Zavadska

Editing: Teresa Pearce