«You can only remove the chevron from my cold body». Volunteer «Sonya» — about why the war became hope for him
«Remember, Salavey: the more you fight, the quieter and more humble you will become», — his Ukrainian brother-in-arms told him. Uladzislau Salavey, with the call sign «Sonya», has been fighting in Ukraine for four years. He was a reconnaissance group commander, suffered concussions and shrapnel wounds to his back, and lost combat effectiveness for half a year due to mental and physical exhaustion. Now, Salavey is preparing to return to the front, not postponing life until after the war, and still considers himself a fighter of the Kastus Kalinouski Regiment — because it is more than just a unit. «It is important for me that my example gives hope to those who have lost it. I strongly doubt that I myself will live to see the liberation of Belarus. But the next generation will grow up, young people will see that someone fought before them, and will understand: not all is hopeless».
«Mice cried, pricked themselves, but kept eating the cactus»
Recently, I went to the cinema in Kharkiv — to Christopher Nolan's «Odyssey». I'm a big fan of cinema; it's my hobby. Imagine: Kharkiv, bombs, shelling, but IMAX is working, and the hall is sold out. I barely managed to buy a ticket for the very last seat.
The film lasted three and a half hours. Because of a concussion, I can't stand loud noises for long, and everything was booming there. I felt bad. But also good, because the film was excellent. Mice cried, pricked themselves, but kept eating the cactus. That's how it was for me too.
This film deeply touched me. Any person with education and understanding of life is still a pacifist at heart. Even if they take up arms, it is to defend themselves and then not to take them up again. They do not start wars; they end them.
The heroes of «Odyssey» themselves came to a foreign city and destroyed it. Technically, they won, but in reality, they lost. The entire film is a reckoning for what they did. It is a story about responsibility.
A Ukrainian acquaintance saw something a bit different in the film. She says: «Well, it's all clear. The guy ran away from his wife, wandered somewhere for twenty years, disappeared with some women on islands. Then he came back when she had already raised their son alone, and started telling fairy tales: 'darling, I couldn't come, there were whirlpools, sirens.' A storyteller!» We, of course, also liked this description.
I try not to forget that life is happening now. During the war, people meet friends, celebrate birthdays and New Year, create families, have children. This summer, I finally saw the sea in Odesa. Four years in Ukraine — and I hadn't seen the sea once before that.
In Kharkiv, I found a shop that sells raspberry waffles. Someone was always buying them all up. I came and said: «Listen, I love these waffles, what's going on?» We agreed: the saleswomen hide the waffles, leave them for me, and I come once a week to pick them up.
Small things save you. Even if it's just waffles.
«And we, thirty-year-old bulls like me, complain that we're tired. It's shameful to say I'm tired.»
When you are constantly in war, thinking only about it, filled with hatred and cruelty, your nervous system quickly becomes exhausted. It's like overtraining muscles, but the psyche recovers much longer.
There is no pill or golden recipe to quickly restore an already exhausted nervous system. Perhaps the only way is to go somewhere for half a year, eat porridge, sit by the pool, and look into the distance. And gradually, it will recover.
I pushed myself to this point. Almost two years ago in Zaporizhzhia, I lost combat effectiveness and spent about half a year recovering. People died then, including those very close to me. I developed PTSD. It manifested as chronic fatigue, irritability, reduced cognitive abilities, and loss of emotional control. Depression was added to the mental and physical exhaustion.
I couldn't work normally, plan, engage in physical activity, or talk to people. Imagine that tomorrow you have an extremely difficult exam, and today you caught the flu, your husband left you, or your mother died. Will you be able to prepare properly? Unlikely. But if you fail the exam, the world won't end. If I poorly prepare a combat mission, people could die.
I wouldn't say I've fully emerged from this state. I am still healing. A psychotherapist and psychiatrist with the call sign «Floy» helps me a lot. She has about thirty years of professional experience, was a Belarusian political prisoner, served two years, was released, and came to serve in Ukraine. She works on the rehabilitation of fighters. An adult woman, she has children. And we, thirty-year-old bulls like me, complain that we're tired. I'm even ashamed to say I'm tired.
Now I behave a bit more cunningly. It's healthy selfishness: I don't deny myself movies, friends, meetings, good food. I don't want to think that real life will begin after victory, and the present is some demo version that needs to be endured. I want to be happy now: go to the movies, try something new, go on a date with a beautiful girl, sit in a park, kiss. We are human, after all.
«I'm constantly scared. But there's fear, and there's panic.»
I'm constantly scared. I'm human, after all. But there's fear, and there's panic. Fear can be controlled; panic cannot. Fear mobilizes: you think faster, move faster, make decisions faster. When it turns into terror and overwhelms you, you lose combat effectiveness.
I've almost gotten used to the background fear. I even like the sound of the air raid siren, especially in Kharkiv. Sirens sound different in different cities, but the Kharkiv one, to me, sounds the best. It calms me down.
But wild fear never disappears when there is an immediate threat to life. Once, in the forest nearby, a wounded Canadian fighter lay — his arm was torn off. An evacuation armored vehicle was coming towards us but couldn't see where we were. In broad daylight, I had to run out into an open field, where Russians were all around, and wave my arms to make the vehicle notice us. Otherwise, the man would have died.
I stood with the radio, heard the roar of the vehicle, and understood that I had to run out. Maybe I'd be lucky, and they wouldn't kill me. Or maybe they would notice and shoot me. Everything inside me tightened, I was stretched like a string. It's like standing on a bridge before a bungee jump: you're frozen, but you have to take the step. I inhaled, burst out of the forest, and ran across the grass, waving my arms. The vehicle came to us. The fighter was saved, his arm was reattached, and it works.
Was I a hero? No, I just understood: if I didn't run out, the man would die. There was no other option.
«I made serious mistakes that I will live with until the end, and which can no longer be corrected.»
Without humor, it's better not to get involved in any of this at all. It's both a release, a way to build contact, and psychological defense.
I laugh at myself too. But I've matured in this war. Toxic masculinity doesn't appeal to me — those strong, bearded men with tattoos who often turn out to be weak in reality. For me, maturity means inner calm and the ability to take responsibility.
On one mission, I had ten people whom I needed to bring back alive in four days. If I made a mistake somewhere, in the best case, they could become disabled; in the worst, they would die. That weighs on you. For hours before the mission, I would sit and strain, perhaps more than mathematicians over some theorem: how to ensure we don't die?
A very wise Ukrainian soldier once told me: «Remember, Salavey: the more you fight, the quieter and more humble you must be. Then you will become an example. People will see your combat path and look up to you. You can no longer allow yourself to be some kind of degenerate.»
I don't want to make myself out to be a flawless hero. Here, I made serious mistakes that I will live with until the end and which can no longer be corrected. I am not ready to talk about them.
There is also a fallen comrade with whom I constantly have internal conversations. It's very personal. I don't understand why there needs to be a separate day of remembrance. I remember every day. He is always with me anyway.
«Perhaps I will not see a new Belarus.»
I didn't used to particularly seek media attention or publicity. A wise man once told me: «You do all this, but almost no one sees it. It will remain only with you. But if others see it, someone will understand that it's still worth fighting.»
It is important for me that my example gives hope to those who have lost it. I strongly doubt that I myself will live to see the liberation of Belarus. Such is life. But the next generation will grow up, young people will see that someone fought before them, and will understand: not all is hopeless. Perhaps I will not see a new Belarus, but I can set an example. For me, this is leadership: to take responsibility, preserve hope, and pass it on.
In 2020, I was 28. On August 9, I went out into the street, a stun grenade burned through my jacket, and I myself was twisted into the third cell on the first floor of Akrestina. For three days, they beat and tortured us. Until that moment, I had never seen so much violence and blood.
Now I recall this almost without emotion — several lifetimes have passed since 2020. What remains in my memory is the good: the moment I left Akrestina, the marches, the incredible hope.
I have no boundless hatred for those who did this, nor do I pity them. They must answer. When people in the cell said they would go decapitate the judge's children, I stopped them: «Decapitate whose children? Don't turn into beasts.» Children are not to blame for what their parents did.
Until I was thirty, I lived more by the principle of «my house is on the edge» (it's none of my business). All my life I was a dreamer, spending a lot of time in fantasies. And then 2020, the war, and maturity all overlapped. Dreaminess combined with circumstances and gave birth to a purpose.
Why can't I live freely in my own country, where I was born and raised? Just because someone decided so? Then that someone will answer. I stopped running away. If freedom could be achieved by another path, I would have taken it. But for now, this is the path.
Once, in the very beginning, I called the war bravado, then — discipline and work. Now, war for me is hope. Hope that all of this is not in vain, that the war will end with our victory and we will be able to live as people, not as slaves.
If it lasts another ten years, I'm ready for as long as my strength and health hold out. I think my body will fail me before my soul does. The soul is immortal; it will be fine. I joke with my Ukrainian brothers-in-arms: «I mustn't die! You have one war, and I have two. I still need to liberate my own country afterward, so you must protect me!»
Why I call myself a fighter of the Kastus Kalinouski Regiment
Recently, posts appeared on social media suggesting that I am allegedly no longer a fighter of the Kastus Kalinouski Regiment. Now I am indeed preparing to transfer to a new unit of the Ukrainian forces and am forming a group there. For the last eight months, I served in the reconnaissance battalion of the National Guard, exclusively with Ukrainians. But
for me, the Kastus Kalinouski Regiment is a broader concept than a single military unit with its staff and contracts. It is a movement of Belarusians who serve in various Ukrainian units, as well as veterans and volunteers. We are united by the goal — the liberation of Belarus through Ukraine's victory.
About two years ago, we gathered representatives of the units and fighters and adopted an internal document. It stated that fighters of the Regiment are those who participated in or supported combat operations, share the Regiment's mission, as well as reservists and veterans, regardless of which military unit they are currently in.
For me, the chevron is not the logo of a specific military unit. It is a symbol of belonging to the movement and our goal. No specific person issued it to me, nor did I buy it at a kiosk. To wear it, I had to go through hell and pay with blood. No one will decide for me whether I have the right to wear this chevron or not. If someone wants to remove it from me, they will only be able to do so from my cold body.
Some of my friends still cannot be buried. I haven't been able to retrieve the remains of one of them for a year now. Therefore, for me, the Regiment is not about funds, donations, or ranks. It's about the people who are no longer here.
I understand that not everyone shares such a broad understanding of the Regiment. But I don't want to make a war within a war out of this. Most of us serve normally, are friends, and carry out tasks. Yes, misunderstandings happen in the volunteer community. But our brothers-in-arms, whoever they may be, remain our Belarusian soldiers.
Awards are also important to me. They were earned with hard blood. You can't buy something like that with money: I paid with the risk of my life. An award shows that I still have energy and am still capable of something. For some, they are just pieces of metal; I won't blame anyone. But for me, they have meaning.
«When they didn't want to issue me a bank card, National Guard officers got in the car with me and went to the bank.»
Belarusian volunteers in Ukraine continue to face legal problems. Belarus is a co-aggressor country; this is an objective reality: an attack on Ukraine came from its territory. Therefore, it is difficult for any Belarusian here to defend their rights, regardless of whether they are fighting on the Ukrainian side or not.
I myself encountered difficulties with bank cards and documents, even though I serve under contract and participate in combat operations. I came here based on my convictions and initially thought: I owe nothing to anyone, but no one owes anything to me either.
However, a foreign fighter signs an official contract with the Ukrainian state. These are legal relations, and his rights, as well as the rights of his family, must be protected by law.
It is especially difficult for the widows of Belarusian volunteers. There are women whose husbands died on combat missions, but they cannot receive payments. Among them is also a veteran of the International Legion.
At the same time, personally, I almost always saw great respect from the Ukrainians. When they didn't want to issue me a bank card, National Guard officers got in the car with me, went to the bank, and said: «This is our fighter; he came to defend the country, resolve the issue.» But I would like everything to depend not on the decency of specific people on the spot, but on the law.
Together with comrades, we created a small fund «Bulwark». So far, it has no major achievements. Through the fund, we paid for car repairs for servicemen, help with documents and psychological support, and can officially invite Belarusian volunteers to Ukraine.
We decided: if the soldiers themselves register their small fund for their own needs, then they definitely won't be able to deceive themselves.
«If they ask how I died, better tell them how I lived.»
I don't know how much longer the war will last. Some say it will end soon, others — by 2030, by 2040, some expect nuclear war. As many people, as many opinions.
I don't live exclusively for today; I have plans and systematic thinking. I just don't want to miss today for the sake of the future. I slowly and patiently move towards my goal, but I don't refuse to live. My personal life is going — and it's going great.
I would like a family and children, but not now. I'm afraid I'll be killed and a child will grow up without a father. My friend Margarita Levchuk moved to her husband in Kharkiv while pregnant. I asked: «Margo, war, husband at the front, you in Kharkiv — aren't you afraid to also give birth?» She looked and said: «So what, should I not live now, just because there's a war?»
Good for her. I'm not afraid of men here, but I am afraid of such women. It's good that we're friends.
I didn't dream of being a soldier. Until I was thirty, I avoided military service by all means, and I didn't join the Belarusian army either. I have a humanitarian, creative mindset.
I don't know what I will do after the war, but I'm not afraid of it. I will find myself because I won't be afraid to search. In my youth, I dreamed of becoming a film director; perhaps I will become one? If I miraculously survive. Nowadays, you don't need millions of dollars to make beautiful videos. I will write screenplays. I once wrote poetry, had a YouTube channel with film reviews. Maybe I will become a completely different person.
When it all ends, Belarus will be free, and we will return home, I will carefully pack my uniform, awards, photos, and chevrons gifted by brothers-in-arms — both living and those who are no longer with us — into a secret suitcase. I will hide it on a distant shelf and never again in my life pick up an assault rifle.
Now, I am finishing my recovery, forming a new group, and preparing for the front. Winter will be tough. I spent the previous one in a position at minus twenty degrees Celsius. Now that village and the position itself are gone; everything was destroyed by aerial bombs.
If you take away my uniform and the definition of a Belarusian volunteer, who will I be? Just a human, a citizen, Uladzislau Salavey, a guy. Not the best son, not the best brother, and not the best friend.
I am a military person, so I always have several plans. For now, Plan A is in effect. It includes a new group, hope of returning to Belarus, a full house at the Kharkiv cinema, and a pack of raspberry waffles hidden for me in a store.
If Plan A doesn't work out and you return home to Belarus, I would like journalists to tell our stories. And if someone asks: «How did he die?», it would be better to answer: «Let me tell you how he lived.» Because how he died — no one is interested.
«Nasha Niva» — the bastion of Belarus
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