Sixty-eight days in a foxhole: Hero of Ukraine Vladyslav Stotskyi, 26, on living in hell and finding God in the trenches

"I'm a hot-headed guy – my temperament is 100% choleric," jokes Svoboda ("Freedom") Battalion fighter Vladyslav Stotskyi, 26, when we ask why he chose the alias Vohon ("Fire").

He's wearing the Order of the Gold Star on his camouflage jacket. The president awarded him the title Hero of Ukraine on 26 February 2025 for defending positions on the Siversk front while encircled by Russian forces for 68 days.

Vladyslav is also wearing a green wristband with four symbols: a heart (love), a division sign (sin), a cross (God), and a question mark (thoughts). The wristband has its own story.

The day before heading to his position in the village of Spirne, Donetsk Oblast, on 10 July 2024, Vladyslav went to Sloviansk. On the way he noticed a sign that said "Free lunch for anyone serving in the Armed Forces of Ukraine" and stopped.

"A chaplain came up to me and invited me to have something to eat and a chat. I was just finishing my meal when the priest asked whether I believed in God. I said I neither confirmed nor denied it – I wasn't a believer then. I thought: God? We come from monkeys (smiles).The chaplain asked: 'Would you like a prayer book or a wristband?' I replied: 'I don't think I need that book. I'll take the wristband.' He gave me his," Vladyslav recalls.

Vladyslav put the wristband on and returned to his unit's base. And on the night of 10-11 July, together with his brothers-in-arms, he set off to take up the position in Spirne.

At that time, Vladyslav had almost no combat experience – he had defended the village of Mala Rohan in Kharkiv Oblast for just one month at the start of the full-scale invasion, when he was still a cadet at the National Academy of the National Guard of Ukraine.

After graduating in the spring of 2023, he joined the Rubizh Brigade. He became a company commander in one of its battalions. Following a conflict with his commanding officer, Vladyslav was transferred to serve as a mental health support officer in an anti-aircraft missile and artillery battalion.

"I didn't like it there, because I'd been preparing myself for combat. I went to the personnel officer and said: 'I want to fight – what should I do?' He replied: 'If you want to fight, go and join the Svoboda Battalion.' I agreed and became a platoon commander. But the commander of my company at the time, Tankist, said at the outset: 'No one is going to put you in charge. You need to go to the positions with the guys and earn their respect.' I said: 'No problem.'"

Vladyslav talked to Ukrainska Pravda about how he earned the trust of his brothers-in-arms while encircled by Russian troops, why he came to believe in God in Spirne, how he held the defence alone and "killed a battalion's worth of Russians", and about learning that he had been awarded the title of Hero of Ukraine.

Here is his story in his own words.

The Adolf position

On the night of 10-11 July 2024, together with three brothers-in-arms, I moved to the Adolf position in Spirne. We wore anti-drone invisibility cloaks and had to walk about 1.5 km. Before we set off, one of my guys gave me a warning.

"The situation's completely f**ked, Vlados. Some hardcore Russian drone crews from the Doomsday brigade have started working on our front. The groups that went before you were all either killed or wounded. I don't know whether you'll make it or not."

We got there – and were plunged into hell. The Russians were carrying out an aggressive offensive. Their infantry were pushing through our flanks, getting into our rear positions and securing their positions there. We found ourselves in a tactical encirclement.

At first there were four of us: Joystick and Povar ("Cook") from the K-2 brigade, and Istoryk ("Historian") and me from the Svoboda battalion. Povar and Istoryk were the first to be injured. One week in, they were hit when a drone dropped munitions on the position. Joystick evacuated them on a quad bike. When he came back, only the two of us were left. The next day the Russians dropped chemicals [chemical munitions – ed.] on us.

Then reinforcements arrived – a fighter who goes by the alias Kenia. A very unusual guy. I don't know why he's in the Svoboda battalion – he should be in the Russian Volunteer Corps (laughs). He's Russian, from St Petersburg. He used to work as a pathologist. He's been in prison – a proper criminal.

A few days after Kenia reached us, the Russians slipped into the forest strip near the Adolf position and cut off our logistics.

We held on. Small assaults began – 10 to 14 Russian soldiers against the three of us. This was during the Storm-Z period, when convicts were being sent into assaults to earn their freedom and some money. They were poor fighters, but even the weakest man can pull a trigger and kill – you don't need much brains for that.

During one of those assaults, Joystick and I went out to return fire, while Kenia stayed by the radio to communicate with command. When the Russians heard bullets whistling, they dropped to the ground, and our drones finished them off.

We asked over the radio whether it was clear. They said: "All clear. Thirteen confirmed dead, one not visible, but most likely wounded and dying somewhere. We'll drop grenades into the foxholes near you now – if he's hiding there, he'll definitely die."

Then we waited for orders. We dug, talked and smoked. In short, we killed time. A day or two passed. We were digging the trench forward. I got tired and crawled out of the hole. I'm having a smoke when I see Kenia coming in. Normally he never shuts up – he's always joking around, telling stories. But now he walks in, and he doesn't look like himself at all.

I asked: "Kenia, what happened?" He didn't answer, just picked up his rifle and slowly walked outside. I repeated the question. "There's a Ruscist here," he said. I asked: "What?" I'd never heard that word before. We never call them "Ruscists" – they're "f**kers". Then it hit me what he meant. I ran out with my rifle, and there was this monster standing there. I said: "Where d'you think you're going?" He replied: "To surrender."

Kenia had been carrying bags of soil out of the trench when he heard someone shout: "Moskva, Moskva!" Back when he worked as a pathologist, his nickname had been Moskva ("Moscow"). Later he told me: "It was strange – someone was shouting my old nickname. But I never told anyone I used to be called Moskva." That's when he realised something was wrong and went to check. They had a conversation.

It turned out this clown was from the group that had assaulted us two days earlier. He'd survived by hiding from the drones in a foxhole. He drank his own urine for two days. We gave him some water, tied his hands and feet, questioned him about Russian positions, and passed the information to command. Joystick took him by quad bike to the Pentagon, the K-2 platoon strongpoint.

Then the Kursk operation began, and the Russians went berserk. The attacks never let up. The Russians knew where our position was, and they spared nothing: tanks, mortars, artillery, drones – they used the whole lot on us. It was hell, it's hard to describe it. FPVs tore everything apart. All the trenches that had been two metres high were levelled with the field.

Drones would fly straight into our dugout. The blast wave slams your ears, dust fills the air, communications go down, and command doesn't know whether you're dead or wounded. You can't tell if the Russians are advancing. You sit without comms, unable to look out because drones are watching you 24/7.

We had electronic warfare equipment at first – it jammed the FPVs. But the Russians quickly reflashed them and carried on destroying everything. Command said: "Dig yourselves out." But the moment you start digging, a drone flies in and attacks. Digging under fire is impossible. Not digging is impossible as well, because you'd suffocate under the rubble.

Almost no water, food nearly gone. And the thirst was terrible – summer, heat, constant work. No EW. You can't run – an FPV would catch you in the field and kill you. How can you hold a defence? What hope is there at all?

On one of the last days at Adolf, another assault began. My commander got on the line and said: "Vlados, you need to go out and meet them." I said I couldn't – no way. He replied: "You must." Well, if you must – you must. It's war.

I went out of the dugout. The situation was f**ked. We were cut off on the left, cut off on the right. The Russians were advancing. I started laying down suppressive fire to stop them. I emptied two magazines and went back into the dugout. A Rapira fired after me – that's a tubed artillery system that fires directly.

I messaged the commander: "Done. What next?" He replied: "Roger that, great. But we need more. Go out and fire between the Rapira shots."

I turned to the guys and asked: "Anyone fancy dying?" It sounds brutal now, but I was panicking. I went out with one of the fighters, and we fired and repelled the assault.

After that came the FPVs with thermobaric warheads – not just heading for our position, but coming straight into our dugout. The walls collapsed, you couldn't breathe. Every thermobaric blast tore through your lungs, ears and nose. There were four of us then – only me from Svoboda, three from K-2. We just had to endure it, we were screaming. There was no way out.

We contacted the command: "That's it. The position is gone. The dugout will collapse and we'll all be missing in action. There's nothing left to hold." The adjacent units were ordered to withdraw, but they had to take all the heavy weapons – Brownings, machine guns and automatic grenade launchers. You can't carry those in your arms, so they evacuated the weapons at night using Vampire drones.

When D-Day came, I asked my commander whether I'd be leaving with K-2. He said: "No, Vlados. You're not leaving with them. You're moving to another position." I'd realised that even before then. They dropped me some food. I took some grenades and ammunition. I hid in a small hole and widened it so I could lie there. In short, until the position changed, I held the defence alone.

The Pincher position

At 07:00 on 17 August 2024, I got a message: "Vlados, everything's fine. Pack up and go to Pincher" [the position to the right of Adolf – ed.]. Thank God, I thought. I took a portable mobile router and some food. I had my body armour, helmet, rifle, and a full rucksack packed with water, food, ammunition and my personal belongings. I arrived fully loaded and shouted into the radio: "Position Pincher, Santa Claus is here to see you."

I went in, and there were three Svoboda fighters inside: Sania, known as Khomiak ("Hamster"), Roma, aka Rym ("Rome"), and Serhii, aka Lialka ("Doll"). I felt a lot better straight away. First, they were my people. Second, things were relatively calm there, not like at Adolf, where the Russians had been tearing us apart.

For the first time in three days, I slept, ate and drank properly. It was pure bliss. By then I was already a battle-hardened lion. I joked: "Guys, I know everything now – I've just killed a battalion's worth of Russians, I'll show you what's what." At that time, the f**kers were advancing in small groups, trying to find out where everyone was. But they were moving forward fairly quickly.

Our reconnaissance tried to break through to us, but clearing 1.5 km of forest belt wasn't feasible. Every 10-15 metres there was a hole, and inside each one there was a dugout, a fortified position, with Russians sitting there. It would have taken a huge effort to knock them out. We couldn't do that.

Logistics were badly affected. The drones that brought us food and water didn't always make it through. Once I messaged the company sergeant asking for water and tinned food (buckwheat with meat). I sent a photo to show him that the four of us had less than half a bottle of water left, and it was baking hot. He replied: "Not today. We lost the last drone."

I touched the wristband, put my finger on the cross and said: "We're so thirsty, Lord. If you can, please do something." What do you think? Half an hour later, the commander called and said they would deliver some supplies by FPV drones.

Finally, on 16 September, the Russians launched a major assault. They got into armoured vehicles and advanced in a convoy. At 06:00 we heard the sound of tracked vehicles rolling along. We reported that we could hear vehicles. We were ordered to get anti-tank weapons ready. At Pincher we had two small anti-tank grenade launchers and one RPG-18 [a Soviet-era light rocket launcher – ed.]. They're for use against lightly armoured vehicles – definitely not tanks.

Anyway. Right. I got ready. I went out with the anti-tank grenade launcher, and 15 metres in front of me I saw a tank with anti-cumulative mesh. I froze – I didn't know where to fire to damage it. I fired – the rocket flew over the turret and landed. I grabbed the second launcher, aimed lower and – click. No shot. I shouted: "Give me something!" The guys handed me an under-barrel grenade launcher. But what use is that against a tank? It's for infantry. I fired, missed again, and then there was another explosion.

The tanks went past. I couldn't understand it. Where was the infantry? I went into the hole and asked the commander what was happening. He said the armoured vehicles were coming from behind. The tanks were the first line – to make us waste all our ammunition. We heard the armoured vehicles approaching, as there was a loud explosion. The commander reported: "We hit one [by drone – ed.]. The infantry are dismounting. Be ready."

We grabbed our weapons and munitions. Roma went out first and started firing. There were a lot of Russians. Sania joined him. The f**kers shot Roma in the helmet. It flew off – but it saved his life. Sania was killed instantly.

I dragged Roma into the foxhole. He said: "Sania's dead. I'm wounded."

I thought: what do I do now? Push Sania's body aside, crawl out and shoot? What if they're waiting for me?

I started firing over Sania's body. I said: "Guys, they can't get in. All they can do is throw a grenade." And then I heard a click. "Grenade!" I shouted. But there was nowhere to hide in that hole.

I pressed myself against the wall. The grenade didn't roll in because Sania's body was blocking the entrance. It exploded underneath him. I kept firing. Another grenade – again it went under Sania – another blast. I kept firing. I only stopped when there were no more Russians moving or shouting. Our artillery and drones were dealing with them.

I contacted the command and asked what to do: "Sania's dead, Roma's wounded. There are three of us. There's nothing left to defend here."

We were told to withdraw at night in anti-drone cloaks. No one knew whether we would make it. The Russians could see that there were piles of bodies and burnt-out armoured vehicles there. You don't need to be very smart to guess that someone might try to leave that position at night.

We left in several groups. We couldn't take Sania's body, only his personal belongings and his phone. I knew I would have to speak to his mother. Only yesterday I'd been talking to her on video – and today her son was gone.

Before we left, I kept thinking: how do we cross the field without hitting a mine or an FPV drone? The cloaks camouflage you, but still, a leg or arm sometimes shows through.

I looked at my knees, which were covered in Sania's blood because I'd been firing from the foxhole beside his body. I got down on those knees, pressed my finger to the wristband, and said: "Lord, I've asked for so much – water, condensed milk, a calm night. I've asked for so much. I'm asking you for one more thing. Please, get us out of here."

Seven out of eight made it out. Sadly, we didn't bring Sania back.

Was it worth holding those positions for 68 days under such conditions? I can't judge from the command's perspective. There will always be questions for the senior military leadership. As our battalion commander says: heroes are born where commanders make mistakes.

During the fighting, I wanted to get out as quickly as possible, because I saw no sense in holding ground where there was nothing left to hold. But if everyone left their positions, the front line would collapse. Now my story inspires people to fight and not give up.

The Zirka (Star) position

I learned that I'd been awarded the title of Hero of Ukraine after the battle at the Zirka position, which is near Pincher. There were four Ukrainians there, including me, and five Colombians. They're solid fighters, by the way.

At 06:00 on 9 March 2025, a large-scale assault began – the largest on the Siversk front. My position was attacked by eight armoured vehicles and over 50 assault troops. They had one task and one only: to take our position, because they had failed to do so for more than two years. There were even rumours that medals had been promised to those who captured Zirka.

Nine hours of small-arms combat, grenade exchanges, and close contact. The f**kers were well equipped; they struck both our artillery and our tanks – one was hit, another destroyed.

The assault was planned extremely well and involved a hell of a lot of resources. We repelled the biggest onslaught. We wounded a lot of Russian soldiers, and they began to retreat. There were more than 15 men dragging the wounded away.

Suddenly, somehow, the Russians burst into our tunnel. Fighting broke out inside the position. We fell back towards the exit. I tried to reach command, but there was no communication. We were exchanging fire with the Russians from one end to the other.

There was ammunition piled up all along the position. The rounds burst into flames. Then there was a huge explosion. Like in an American film when the main character runs out and a blast wave follows. Only I didn't run, I stayed and was wounded. The blast wave passed over me. Mr Fire got a bit burnt (jokingly). But, thank God, I recovered, and everyone survived that battle.

Now I supply my unit and brigade with drones, electronic warfare systems and equipment, and I work on recruitment. I visit soldiers and cadets in training centres and military academies and share life hacks on how to survive longer at the front.

I also go to churches and talk about how I found God. It inspires people to help and not forget about the battlefield. I tell them: "Guys, the war is not over. Nothing ventured, nothing gained – start doing something, and everything will be all right."

Friends, you can support the fighters of the Svoboda Battalion, who are currently fighting on the Pokrovsk front. They are raising funds for their engineering and bomb disposal platoon – to buy consumables for producing "explosive gifts" for the Russians.

Target: UAH 450,000 (about US$10,500)

Link to Monobank jar

Link to PrivatBank envelope

Card number: 5168752142787566

Author: Anhelina Strashkulych, Ukrainska Pravda
Translation: Myroslava Zavadska
Editing:Teresa Pearce