"You Are Meat." A 37-year-old builder from Pinsk went to St. Petersburg for work, but ended up in an assault group near Sudzha
"They forced me, honestly, forced me," repeats the captured Belarusian Andrei several times in an interview published by the 68th Separate Airborne Brigade of the Armed Forces of Ukraine named after Oleksa Dovbush.
Andrei. Screenshot photo: 68-brigade / YouTube
Andrei is 37 years old, he is from Pinsk. In his hometown, he worked on road construction: laying paving stones and sidewalk curbs, building storm drains and catch basins. When asked if he had enough money in Belarus, he replies that he did.
However, the Belarusian admits, he had problems with the law from a young age: hooliganism ("broke a well, smashed an alarm system"), he was caught drunk driving twice, there were petty thefts. In total, according to him, he spent about eight years in Belarusian penal colonies. During the 2020 protests, as the man claims, he was imprisoned.
Andrei's path to war began in 2024, when an old acquaintance invited him to St. Petersburg, luring him with "good work at Metrostroy". However, instead of the expected 200,000 Russian rubles for the first month of work, he was paid 30,000, citing an unfulfilled plan. When he asked for an advance half a month later, he heard: "If you don't like it, leave, there are many like you."
"This is my second time coming to Russia, and I'm always cheated out of money. It's always the same: I call my father — Dad, send money for the road."
Andrei quit Metrostroy and made ends meet with odd jobs. In 2025, he started having problems with the police: they demanded registration and SNILS (a number in the Russian pension insurance system), which he, according to him, had never even heard of. They explained to him that he was no longer a citizen of the "union state," but an ordinary foreigner.
Andrei was fined for not having his passport with him. When an acquaintance brought the document, the police kept the passport and promised to return it after the fine was paid. Andrei went to the city to pay, but on the way he was stopped and detained again — this time for walking without the passport that the police themselves had confiscated.
"They kept him in the department for several days, didn't feed him, didn't give him water. They opened the door, looked, and said: 'You won't die.' They treated him like a dog."
From the police department, Andrei ended up in a migrant detention center. There, a woman immediately asked if he wanted to sign a contract for the "SMO" (Special Military Operation). As the man claims, he refused, arguing that he wanted to live.
However, they didn't give up on him. The next day, a man had a long conversation with him. He talked about privileges for war participants, including the expungement of criminal records, and assured him that Andrei would not be sent to the front.
At the same time, Andrei says, there were also threats: allegedly, "you are wanted for stealing a scooter or a bicycle, you'll go to prison, and from prison, you'll still go 'to the front'."
"I didn't believe in the money, because I had never seen it in Russia. But in the fact that my criminal records would be expunged and I would return home a clean person, without supervision — that I believed," admits the Belarusian.
As a result, he signed the contract. However, he never received his passport back.
"You Are All Meat"
The first training, according to the Belarusian, was in Kamenets, 60-70 kilometers from St. Petersburg towards Vyborg, and lasted three weeks. Initially, recruits ran in body armor, studied medicine and topography, and were shown how to hide from drones. AK-74 assault rifles, Andrei recalls, were issued to them only after three days, they started shooting after a week, and a week later each threw one or two grenades.
The instructors, the man says, did not pay special attention to shooting itself. They explained that the war is now fought with drones and mines, so the main thing is to look "at the sky and under your feet."
Already during training, the Belarusian injured both knees during physical training. According to him, the X-ray machine in the hospital wasn't working, and soon he was completely stopped from being taken there. He, he says, couldn't walk to the canteen, but even with injured legs, he was sent further, to the Luhansk region. There, Andrei recounts, his requests for treatment were answered curtly: if you can't walk yourself, they'll drive you.
The second camp, according to the prisoner, was in a forest near Bilovodsk in occupied Luhansk region. It was there, he says, that no trace of illusions remained.
"We were told: drop your naive ideas that someone will go to construction, someone will remain a driver. You are all stormtroopers. You are all meat."
In the group he traveled with, according to Andrei, there were 20-25 people. Many came from Karelia and northern Russia; there were Uzbeks and Tajiks. He was the only one from Belarus. One thing united them, the prisoner says: all had problems with the law or with money, and all were promised that they would not have to fight.
As the man recounts, several people from his group tried to escape. Andrei remembers a man about fifty years old who, back in Kamenets, offered him to run away together. The Belarusian didn't dare, but that man disappeared one night. A day later, he was brought back. After that, Andrei recounts, the escapee was handcuffed to a post at night, and during the day he was taken to the training ground under supervision. Commanders, according to him, directly warned: even if you refuse and go to prison, you will still end up on the front from there.
For radios, Andrei says, the recruits chipped in themselves — commanders collected money for them from their payments. When someone took his radio, Andrei was called to the commander.
"The first blow — with full force, a kick to the chest. I fell, covered myself, and he hit my head and yelled that he would kill people like me."
The same commander, according to Andrei, came to the training ground and yelled at the recruits to give their food to the "living": "You are all dead, and the dead don't need food." The officer announced to the recruits that he had no infantry left and therefore would now "deal with" them.
Sudzha
The recruits were not directly informed about being sent to the front. Simply one day, according to Andrei, they were told that they wouldn't go to the training ground tomorrow because there would be an inspection. The guys who had served longer immediately understood that they would soon be sent on a mission.
For two days in a row, the recruits were lined up and had their equipment checked, from body armor and first-aid kits to mess tins and shovels. Then, the Belarusian recounts, at six in the morning they were put into cars and driven all day to a forest that the soldiers called a "reserve". There they were given water, nuts, and snack bars. They were told it was a five-day ration.
At three in the morning, they were brought to Sudzha. There, three soldiers met the recruits and took them to spend the night in an abandoned house. At four in the morning, the group was roused and led for a long time on foot through the entire city to a ruined hospital. There, according to Andrei, they sat for half a day. Then the commander arrived and said that it was raining now and drones were not flying, which meant it was time to go out. They were ordered to go in pairs.
"Along the way, I saw people in black bags. And it became scary. Until the last moment, I didn't realize what was happening."
The number of dead along the way, the Belarusian says, was increasing. When he asked why they weren't being collected, he heard: "There's no opportunity."
Already in the forest, Andrei met a guy with whom he had spent three days in training. That guy, for attempting to escape, was transferred to "Company V," where, according to the Belarusian, former prisoners and escapees end up. The guy's hand was bloody. He said that out of their group of about 30 people, only he had made it out.
Captivity
As Andrei recounts, his group was ordered to reach the forest, entrench there, and await reinforcements. Upon reaching the location, he reported via radio that there was no one in the forest. In response, he heard: "Hide and dig in."
But Andrei didn't dig in. According to him, he turned off his radio and did not make contact again. He walked along the path, first one way, then the other, jumped over a ditch — and saw Ukrainian soldiers. He dropped his assault rifle and discarded the ammunition.
"I wouldn't be able to shoot a person. For me, it's terrible, it's a sin, I was raised that way by my parents. (...) I came more with hope for you than to return, because I knew: there, they would still drive me somewhere, and I would die."
The Ukrainians, according to him, tied his hands, blindfolded him, and took him to a dugout, where they gave him a cigarette. Andrei admits that he expected something different, because in the Russian army they were told that Ukrainians don't take prisoners and torture Russians.
"They asked if I wanted to drink, if I was cold. They made coffee, treated me to chocolate. When they were leading me away, they gave me a pack of cigarettes — they said, maybe there won't be any there. I felt more kindness from the Ukrainians than from the Russians," the Belarusian asserts.
If Andrei is exchanged, he wants to get two piglets and a dog at home, engage in farming, and start a family — he has no children of his own. And also to tell people what he saw.
"What Russia says is a lie. They lie to me, they lie to everyone else, and to the whole world," the Belarusian asserts.