Russians captured in Ukraine’s Kursk offensive may provide a valuable bargaining chip in future negotiations. Most were hastily recruited and rushed into battle with little or no training.
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Northern Ukraine — The clinging aroma of sweat, smoke, and stale breath is suffocating in the late summer heat. A guard, sporting a mustache typical of Cossacks, escorts a Russian prisoner of war through the narrow corridors of this prison in northern Ukraine.
The Russian’s pants are too large. His head is bowed. “He’s being taken to the infirmary,” a guard tells me.
The bandage around the Russian’s arm is soaked in blood. A metal bar is visible. It is embedded in the bone of the prisoner’s arm to stabilize the fracture. Another guard inserts a key into an enormous forest green iron door and opens it slowly. Behind it, a dozen Russian prisoners of war are crammed together.
There’s the sudden, sharp smell of cigarettes mixed with the scent of a school cafeteria. This is where the Russian conscripts captured during the offensive around Kursk at the beginning of August are being held. Since the Ukrainian advance on Russian soil, the flow of Russian prisoners has been constant. A Ukrainian prison guard guesses that the total number of captured Russians is probably now in the thousands.
One of the Russian prisoners — Askerkhan, 30 — has a gaunt face dotted with a small black beard. “A bullet broke my finger,” he says.
Enlisted under a short-term contract for just three months, Askerkhan, who had joined the Russian Marines, did not have to wait long before his inexperienced unit was ambushed by the Ukrainian army. Nearly everyone was killed.
“The conscripts surrendered at the first shots,” he says. All of the Russian marine infantry who attempted to fight back were killed. Askerkhan found himself with 20 wounded marines. He was the only one who still had a weapon. He tried to move what was left of the unit to safety, but found himself cut off from the rest. The other marines, he said, were all killed. “Why did they [the Russian commanders] send conscripts to defend the border?” he asks. “It makes no sense.”
“Our commanding officers sent us here because the Ukrainians were massing on the border,” he says. “But once we got there, there was no one to give us orders.”
While he is talking, Askerkhan’s fellow prisoners wolf down kasha (buckwheat porridge) and stew from plastic bowls. The meal is complemented by a cucumber salad, coarsely chopped with dill. A TV sits on top of a small table.
Wounded prisoners lying on their cots stare blankly at the cell’s ceiling. Occasionally they swat the ubiquitous flies away. A group of prisoners, relaxing in a corner of the cell, play a game of backgammon. They have reason to believe that they will soon be exchanged for Ukrainian POWs.
Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy announced as much on the preceding Sunday. One of the offensive’s objectives was to seize Russian prisoners in order to build an “exchange fund” in order to secure the freedom of Ukrainian soldiers being held in Russia.
Many Conscripts Among the Prisoners
Rustam, 19, who hails from Dagestan, near Chechnya, had just three months left on his enlistment when he was wounded. Stationed near Kursk since mid-April, he is one of the hundreds of recent Russian draftees captured during the offensive. Most of the Russian troops lacked necessary equipment as well as experience; many surrendered as soon as the fighting began.
“Our commanding officers sent us here because the Ukrainians were massing on the border,” he says. “But once we got there, there was no one to give us orders.”
Rustam describes the panic that the first days of the Ukrainian offensive created in the Russian lines.
“We tried to escape by car,” he says, “but a drone chased us and exploded. A piece of shrapnel tore through my hand. Then we were captured by the Ukrainians.” Rustam has a thick bandage with a splint on his left hand.
Andrei, a 31-year-old contract soldier, or short-term volunteer, said he barely had time to understand what was happening. He was on the front line near Kursk for fewer than six hours before his unit was ambushed. He had signed a contract for Russian military service on July 23 and was captured two weeks later.
Taken by surprise by the Ukrainian offensive, Andrei says his brigade started to retreat and was then ambushed. The Russians had evidently not bothered training or preparing new recruits before sending them into combat.
“We were retreating and being shot at by the Ukrainians,” he says. “Just about everyone was killed. Anyone who survived was taken prisoner. You can’t stop a tank with a machine gun.”
Yevgeniy, a 22-year-old conscript who was drafted straight out of school, says the Ukrainian thrust onto Russian soil came as a complete surprise. Now, he says, everyone is waiting for a prisoner exchange, which they hope will take place soon. Back in Russia, Yevgeniy plans to resume his studies. “I’d like to study languages. Maybe English.” In truth, he confides, he never really supported the war.
Respect for the Geneva Conventions
Andrei, just finishing his kasha, says that the Ukrainians have treated him and his comrades well. He says that the Russian officers warned everyone that they would be tortured if they were captured. It didn’t happen. “We expected a different reception,” he says. “But we’ve been treated like human beings, even though we are prisoners.”
Red Cross personnel visited last week, and Andrei and the other long-term detainees were able to write letters to their families in Russia.
Another prison guard says that Ukraine strictly adheres to the Geneva Conventions and respects the human dignity of the prisoners, but admits that this is not always easy in wartime.
“They are our enemies above all,” he says. “What we do for them is already too much. It’s not fun taking them to the hospital and looking after them.”
Askerkhan is particularly grateful to Ukrainian medics. “They didn’t treat us any differently from their own,” he says. “Here, no one threatens us, and we are well treated, whether by the guards or the doctors. I hope our soldiers treat Ukrainian prisoners of war the same way.”
The guard explains that many of the Russians were in terrible shape when they were found. The commanders had abandoned their men and some had gone several days without eating.
Once the Russians reached Ukrainian lines, they were fed and their wounds treated.
Askerkhan is particularly grateful to Ukrainian medics. “They didn’t treat us any differently from their own,” he says. “Here, no one threatens us, and we are well treated, whether by the guards or the doctors. I hope our soldiers treat Ukrainian prisoners of war the same way.”
Iryna Matviyishyn contributed to this story.
