Matt Lakeman

Notes on Ukraine

2022-05-15 · 00:00 UTC ·John Doe ·45 min read

Brief

This detailed firsthand account from April-May 2022 provides rare ground-level perspective on Ukraine's early war period, combining personal observations with military analysis. The author traveled through six cities, finding stark contrasts: western cities like Lviv maintained near-normal life with most businesses open, while frontline Kharkiv was a ghost town under constant artillery bombardment. His experiences in active combat zones, including visits to recently liberated areas around Kyiv and dangerous forays into Kharkiv's "grey zone," offer visceral details of urban warfare's reality.

The military analysis section provides compelling explanations for Russia's unexpected struggles. Beyond the widely discussed corruption and equipment problems, the author identifies a critical paradigm shift: modern portable anti-tank and anti-aircraft weapons proved devastatingly effective against expensive Russian armor and aircraft. This technological evolution, combined with Russia's insufficient invasion force (200,000 troops against Ukraine's 200,000+ active personnel plus reserves), violated basic military doctrine requiring 3:1 attacker advantage. The author argues Russia fundamentally misunderstood both Ukrainian capabilities and resolve, expecting swift government collapse that never materialized.

Perhaps most revealing are the extensive interviews with Foreign Legion veterans, exposing catastrophic mismanagement that contradicts public narratives. The unit, supposedly numbering thousands, actually peaked around 200 members. Volunteers received 1-2 days training regardless of experience, suffered severe supply shortages (sometimes no food for 24+ hours), and were led by incompetent commanders. After early casualties, the unit was relegated to guarding oligarch properties rather than fighting. The author documents systematic dysfunction including untrained medics, equipment theft, and infiltration by fascists and psychopaths, ultimately leading most competent volunteers to quit.

Why it matters

American traveler provides firsthand account from six Ukrainian cities during early months of 2022 Russian invasion:

Key details

  • [conditions] Western cities (Lviv, Uzhgorod) functioned near-normally with 90%+ stores open, while Kharkiv was 99% closed and under constant artillery
  • [military analysis] Russia's 200,000-troop invasion force was insufficient given 3:1 rule for attackers, compounded by corruption, outdated tactics, and supply failures
  • [paradigm shift] Modern anti-tank weapons proved devastatingly effective against expensive Russian armor, negating key Russian advantages
  • [foreign legion] Ukraine's International Legion was catastrophically mismanaged with untrained volunteers, severe supply shortages, and fascist infiltration
  • [casualties] Ukrainian government likely understating losses - claimed 2,500-3,000 dead vs Russia's admitted ~20,000, but soldiers suggest near-parity
Cleaned source text

title: Notes on Ukraine

author: John Doe

content_type: article

publication: Matt Lakeman

published: 2022-05-15T00:00:00

source_url: https://mattlakeman.org/2022/05/15/notes-on-ukraine/

word_count: 10214

I spent most of April and some of May traveling around Ukraine, visiting the cities of Uzhgorod, Lviv, Kyiv, Kharkiv, Dnipro, and Odessa.

As with my other travels, I’ll write down thoughts and observations from my experiences, conversations, and research that I found interesting. I want to say upfront that I don’t think I have any brilliant insights on Ukraine or the war. If you consider yourself fairly unknowledgeable about the war (like I was before going to Ukraine), hopefully you’ll come away with a better understanding of the nature of the conflict and what it’s like on the ground.

Why Go to Ukraine?

I had been planning a long Eurasian trip for months. Originally, I was going to take the trans-Siberian railroad, but travel in and out of Russia is iffy and expensive now for Americans. So I pivoted to a general Europe/Middle East/maybe Central Asian trip. Ukraine is currently one of the most interesting places in the world, so after landing in Hungary, that was my first stop.

I chose to go to Ukraine because I thought doing so would be a fascinating form of travel and to help out the humanitarian crisis or war effort in whatever small way I could.

I have never been in a country at war (unless you count the United States), and I doubt I will get a chance to do so besides Ukraine. If another war breaks out in, for instance, Syria, a white American like me can’t waltz in and take pictures. Even if I could get a visa, everyone would think I’m in the CIA or something. Meanwhile, Ukraine has been extremely receptive to international support, and is still running a normal visa regime (except presumably for Russians and maybe Byelorussians). I was even able to get press credentials from the Ukrainian government due to some professional writing I’ve done.

So I talked to a Ukrainian friend of mine living in America and asked him about the situation on the ground, if he had any contacts I could meet with, and if there was anything I could do to help. He put me in touch with a civilian organization in Ukraine which distributes supplies to the military, and with a friend of his who is fighting in the Territorial Defense Force (basically the Ukrainian National Guard). A friend, a family member, and myself pooled money to buy combat tourniquets and gloves, while my Ukrainian friend bought a drone and some clothes which I packed into a duffel bag and brought to Europe. Most of the material went to the organization, and some went directly to the Territorial Defense Force guy.

(To my eternal shame, I forgot to bring the clothes, but I got them shipped later.)

I realize that this is not the most efficient possible way to help Ukraine by Effective Altruist standards. While planning my trip, I was also concerned that I might harm Ukraine in some way by travelling there, either by consuming scarce resources, or just generally getting in the way.

Having spent almost a month there, I am confident I was a net positive, both from the materials I brought, and from pumping a little money into the desolate tourist economy. As far as I can tell, I didn’t take up space on trains or in hostels which would otherwise have been occupied by soldiers or refugees. Everyone I met in Ukraine was extremely nice, many were thankful, and they welcomed international travelers.

What’s It Like On the Ground?

Uzhgorod, Lviv, Dnipro, and Odessa

In Uzhgorod, Lviv, Dnipro, and Odessa it is easy to forget that a war is going on. I’d estimate 90%+ stores are still open. People work, chill in cafes, and go out at night to bars and restaurants. There are some soldiers walking around, most of the police carry assault rifles, and you’ll come across the occasional street blockade or checkpoint. Still, life mostly functions like normal.

Uzhgorod is considered the safest major city in Ukraine and to my knowledge it has not been hit by any Russian attacks. Dnipro was subject to a few bombings, especially earlier in the war, and its airport was destroyed. Lviv was hit a few times but there was no major damage. Nearly all of the bombings in Dnipro and Lviv were on the outskirts and the vast majority of citizens are so far unaffected. Still, there are sandbags piled up in front of windows of government buildings and some corporate stores, presumably to protect from shrapnel in case of artillery strikes or bombings.

There are curfews even in these more peaceful parts of Ukraine. It varies by city and has changed over time, but when I was around, the curfew was 10PM-5 or 6AM. Almost everything is closed an hour beforehand, so the city is pretty desolate at night beside the police/military. A Spaniard at one of my hostels didn’t get back before curfew started and the cops yelled at her, but she was fine.

The one time I was out after curfew was when I arrived in Dnipro at midnight. All of the lights were shut off, presumably to limit bombing targeting, so it was striking to see a sky full of stars in a city that normally housed 1 million people. Fortunately, I had a friend in the city who has contacts in the police, so four police officers with assault rifles found me in the dark of the train station, marched me to a police car, and drove me through eerily empty streets for fifteen minutes to my friend’s apartment. *Riders on a Storm* was playing on the radio, and it was oddly fitting.

An odd side effect of the curfew is that everyone goes out to eat/drink earlier. In Dnipro, the bars were packed by 6PM, and by 9PM felt more like 1AM in an ordinary bar. There were a lot of drunk people waiting on huge lines near bus stops trying to catch the last rides back home before curfew. Taxis were making bank.

I couldn’t find any official figures, but Dnipro was somewhat depopulated. It is located in the middle of the country and is considered a major Russian strategic target, so a significant number of people left. It was difficult for me to feel the loss, but others said it was less crowded than usual.

In contrast, much of Lviv and Uzhgorod (both in the west, near the Polish and Hungarian borders respectively) were *more* crowded than usual due to the influx of refugees. There was also a noticeable gender and age imbalance – significantly more women, children, and older people, fewer younger men.

Kyiv

I arrived in Kyiv about a week after the Russian forces had retreated from the city. They never actually got into the city center, but had occupied or fought over much of the outskirts and suburbs, nearly encircling the city. So security was understandably much higher here than the other cities. There were soldiers, strategic checkpoints and roadblocks, and entrenched positions with sandbags and small bunkers throughout the city. Most of the positions were still manned, some had been emptied. Most of the major roads had concrete barriers, Czech hedgehogs, or sandbags which formed snaking corridors that forced cars to slow to navigate. Military trucks and convoys constantly drove through the city.

I’d estimate 50% of the stores, cafes, bars, and restaurants were closed. Generally, the farther west the location, the more openings. All of the museums and tourist sites were closed. Most statues, including large ones in the middle of squares or parks, were completely encased in sandbags and/or wooden crates to protect them from bombings. St. Michaels, one of Kyiv’s major churches, was closed, but I talked my way inside past a rather nice soldier.

Curfew was 10PM for most of the time I was there, but was raised to 11PM before I left. Almost everything was closed by 8PM, but one Turkish restaurant and one Cuban bar stayed open almost to curfew and were always packed with journalists and locals alike.

Through a journalist I met in my hostel, I managed to join a local charity on a convoy to deliver supplies to people who had stayed behind in the northern and eastern suburbs and had lived under Russian occupation. The convoy consisted of a big pick up truck, a U-Haul type truck with food and medicine, and two cars which carried about ten Ukrainian soldiers who escorted us.

Most of these outlying towns were deserted, but some had a handful of people left who had lived without electricity, internet, or a reliable food supply for months. Most were older and didn’t want to leave their homes behind. There wasn’t too much apparent damage for the most part, just broken window and fences here and there. One store had a few bullet holes and the inside was smashed up from some Russian soldiers who raided it. Some bridges were collapsed. I saw maybe a dozen blown up Russian troop carriers and tanks on the roads. I didn’t see any dead people, though there were two dead horses.

At the end of the trip, we went to Bucha, a site now infamous for the killing and raping of Ukrainian citizens. The destruction is far more apparent here; lots of collapsed buildings, rubble, holes in structures, etc. The place seemed deserted aside from soldiers and some aid workers camped out in ruins. The soldiers accompanying our convoy showed us an artillery shell or bomb (I’m not sure which) which hit a cemetery and didn’t explode.

The most fascinating part was walking through the remnants of the Russian encampments. A lot of the Russian soldiers settled into forests, digging trenches and bunkers into the soil. They left behind boxes, food, utensils, clothes, toothbrushes, random tools, and lots of miscellaneous stuff. Here’s one particular item I’m sure they will miss:

The area seemed safe as we were travelling around; I think Russian forces had pulled back behind their border 50+ KM away, north of Chernobyl. But the main concern for the locals was leftover mines. Some minefields had already been identified and were marked with signs, but the Ukrainians hadn’t had the time to check everywhere. We were told never to walk off the roads unless a soldier checked the area in front of us. This made for one of the most nerve-racking pisses of my life.

Kharkiv

Kharkiv has been under attack since the war began, and as of writing this in early May, it is still on the front.

The war was more apparent here than anywhere else. I’d say 99% of stores were closed, rendering a city which once held almost 1.5 million people a ghost town. There were two cafes open near the train station and no other place to buy meals. The nearest supermarket to my hostel had maybe 10% of its shelves full and only allowed a handful of people in at a time (though another supermarket I found was about 50% full). There were few people on the streets and few cars, especially as I went more eastward or northward where the front is still active.

I heard artillery as soon as I walked out of the train station. The journalist with me explained which booms were from Ukrainian artillery and which were from the Russians. Basically, the quieter booms were the Ukrainians shooting at the Russians about 20 KM from the city center, and the louder ones were the Russians lobbying artillery into the city. Both could be heard throughout most of the days at regular intervals.

One of the cafes near the train station became the go-to spot for what little socializing was available. I met several Foreign Legion soldiers and they were more than happy to tell me about their experiences for a cup of coffee. I also hung out with some Ukrainian soldiers, one officer who seemed to want to practice his English, and a meteorologist who lost his job because the meteorology center got hit by artillery.

Curfew was 8PM-6AM. The few open shops closed by 7PM, and the city was practically deserted thereafter.

Quite a few sites were bombed out in the city center, including most notably the city council building. I went there with the journalist and there were no soldiers or workers of any sort, so we walked through the whole thing, all the way up to the 6th floor.

We also walked through a bombed-out school, which I guess caught fire and burned down because there was ash everywhere. Teenagers still hung out in its playground.

On two occasions, I accompanied my journalist companion to Saltovka, a region on the eastern outskirt of the city. A military blockade on a bridge divided the area between the active front where fighting continued and the rest of the city.

The first time we went, we stayed on the technically-not-in-an-active-battle side, and saw high-rise apartments, gas stations, food stands, and lots of other random buildings that had been hit by artillery. Little of the wreckage has been cleared so there was lots of concrete and glass on the sidewalks and around buildings. The whole zone was almost entirely deserted, so with the Soviet-style concrete high rises, it had Chernobyl vibes. We saw maybe a dozen people walking around over the course of a few hours, likely the few locals who stuck around. I walked through a grocery store which looks like it could be in the *Last of Us*. A row of lockers had been pried open, but the ATMs remained intact.

The artillery booms were much louder here than in the city center. We were hearing Russian strikes every 2-5 minutes and occasionally we felt the ground shake. At one point, two soldiers questioned us, which was a nearly daily occurrence for two guys walking around with cameras. After showing our passports and journalist passes, we asked how far away the strikes were, and they said 1-2 KM. Eventually, we heard strikes hit in all directions around us: north, south, east, and west, so we were somewhere in the current artillery strike zone.

We briefly talked to one of the locals, and he claimed we were allowed to go into the “grey zone” past the bridge where fighting was still ongoing. We walked to the bridge with the checkpoint, but a jeep with five soldiers came speeding down the bridge and stopped right in front of us. A guy who looked like an officer immediately jumped out and started shouting at us: “who are you!?” “what are you doing here!?”

We explained and started to take out our papers, but he said “I believe you!” and told us to leave immediately because Russian forces were nearby. As we power-walked away, we heard small arms fire behind us, though we didn’t see anything.

The second time we went to Saltovka it was calmer, there were only occasional artillery strikes, and not as close by. We milled around the same side of the bridge for awhile and went into one of the abandoned high rises on the border. We couldn’t quite get to the roof, but we got some good pictures of the grey zone from maybe the 9th or 10th floor. I would show them, but we were later told not to publicize anything that could reveal the positions of the Ukrainian military.

We then saw that there was a park in the valley between our area and the grey zone, and that we could bypass the checkpoint by going through it. Along the way, we found a public fountain/pipe thing where a few locals were filling water bottles.

We reached the grey zone on the other side of the valley. There was far more destruction here; all of the buildings had holes in them, usually multiple. Some roofs were collapsed. There was rubble all over the streets, sometimes blocking entire sidewalks. There were holes in the ground in the roads and grassy areas where artillery shells had landed.

The whole area was completely silent except for artillery which became louder and louder the longer we were there. It actually sounded different in the grey zone, more like thunder than booms. As would soon be explained to us, the artillery was being fired over our heads from close by, so we were hearing the sonic boom of the shells going past us rather than the explosions.

We ran into one of the local inhabitants and ended up spending almost an hour with him talking in broken English and through Google translate. He was in his late 30s or early 40s, and stayed in the grey zone because his blind mother couldn’t travel. He explained that there were three people left in his building (a massive nine story concrete Soviet high-rise) and 1-5 people in each of the buildings nearby. They all got their water from the fountain we passed, they cut branches in the park/valley for heating fuel, and they received a shipment of food from the police once every two weeks. This guy, seemingly the only not very old person in the area (aside from one severe alcoholic), hand-delivered the police shipments to all the remaining locals.

He tried to introduce us to another guy living near by whom he described as “an extremely strong old man” but he was asleep. So we bid him farewell and began walking toward the exit of the grey zone.

Then two Ukrainian soldiers spotted us. They didn’t speak English but they seemingly ordered us to stop and then said some other stuff I didn’t understand. Then one said “come” and beckoned us down one of the roads. We slowly walked while the two of them trailed a few feet behind us.

They didn’t point their guns at us, but it’s the only time in my life where I’m positive I would have been shot and killed if I did something stupid.

They marched us down three streets until we came upon a contingent of soldiers, maybe eight in total. The commander of the squad briefly talked to the two soldiers who brought us and then turned to us. In very good English he asked us who we are, what we were doing there, and who we worked for. He examined our passports and press cards, and then pointed to a line on my press card that says: “The Armed Forces of Ukraine are not responsible for your life and health while in a combat zone.”

He told us that this was an active combat zone and that we had to leave at once. He asked if we had taken pictures and we said we had. He told us that if they were posted online, they could be used by the Russians to find military positions, so he ordered us to delete them, and he watched as I deleted about 50 photos. The journalist asked if we could keep photos taken indoors, and the commander said that was fine.

He then shook our hands and ordered two soldiers to take us out of the grey zone. The commander was polite but firm the entire time.

The two soldiers marched us differently on the way out than in. This time, they had one guy in front of us and one behind us, which I’m guessing is an escort formation. Rather than take us through the valley, they took us to the bridge with the checkpoint. The soldiers there looked over our passports and press passes again, then sent us across the bridge. We walked maybe a mile until we had cell service and could call a taxi to leave.

We went to another section of the front later that day, this one to the north where a few villages are situated on the outskirts of Kharkiv. We arrived at a military checkpoint on a highway out of the city, and as we were showing our papers, a guy walked over to us and started talking through Google translate. He had some sort of official position in one of the local villages and he wanted to show us around. 30 minutes later, we were talking to the village’s mayor and his assistant who spoke English. He offered to show us some of the places hit by Russian artillery and we accepted.

What we didn’t know is that the Russians were still *very* close by. We drove through some suburbs filled with one and two-story homes, and when we rose to a slight hill, the assistant pointed to a tree line she said was six KM away. She told us the Russians were there right now.

We saw a destroyed school (seemed to be a lot of those), a few destroyed houses, and a destroyed clinic. Then we heard a bunch of artillery hits nearby (I’m guessing 2-3 KM) and they said we needed to leave quickly.

We drove back toward Kharkiv and stopped at a military checkpoint where we were introduced to some members of the Territorial Defense Force, and the journalist did a short interview. At one point, we heard a series of explosions and the soldiers moved us behind some concrete barriers. They pointed to the distance and we saw the artillery strikes as they hit.

They drove us back to the checkpoint at the edge of the city where we were picked up. They introduced us to two more soldiers there (Ukrainian army) who took pictures with us. One of them offered to give us a ride back to our hostel and we accepted. I had to sit in the back with the AK.

EDIT – Since writing this, Ukrainian forces have pushed the Russian military away from Kharkiv, effectively winning the battle.

Why Didn’t the Russians Win?

When the invasion kicked off, I remember hearing that Russia would win the war by conventional standards within 3-7 days, though there would likely be insurgent fighting for long afterward.

The predictions of a swift Russian victory were not unfounded, at least on paper. Russia had 100 million more citizens, about 3-4X as many soldiers, a 10X larger air force and navy, 10X GDP, 3-4X GDP per capita, and massive reserves of key resources like oil and gas. In 2021, Russia spent $66 billion on its military, the 5 th most of any country on earth, compared to Ukraine’s $6 billion, the 36th most.

And yet, as of writing this, the war has gone on for well over two months and the Russian forces have been pushed back significantly. Russia’s stated goal is no longer to take Kyiv and overthrow the Ukrainian government, but merely to occupy the Donbass region in the east and force some sort of favorable peace. Meanwhile, Ukraine’s objective has upgraded from “survive” to actually winning the war militarily and forcing Russia to give up its claims on Ukraine.

So why didn’t Russia win and why might they lose?

I know a bit of military history, but little about modern warfare, so I am by no means an expert. Take the following claims as my best explanations based on talking to lots of soldiers, volunteers, and observers, as well as reading a lot online.

The Russian Military Was (Somewhat) of a Paper Tiger

Russia has a large army, and it spends a lot of money on it, but it is significantly weaker than it appears.

First, much of its equipment is old and ill-maintained. Most is leftover from the Soviet Union, particularly its rifles and assorted small arms. Even its newer weapons are mostly repurposed versions of older weapons. Its non-weapon equipment is even worse, especially its transportation, which became readily apparently with frequent breakdowns during the initial invasion.

Second, the paper-strength of much of the Russian military is likely exaggerated due to rampant corruption and mismanagement. Stories of mafias and commanders alike pillaging and selling military equipment for personal gain are common. Commanders are likely overreporting their strength to Putin to avoid looking bad.

Third, the Russian military’s leadership has been systematically gutted by Putin. His base of support within the government has always stemmed from the loyalty of the FSB (the successors to the KGB), and the military is a natural rival. Supposedly, Putin has removed the most competent and charismatic military leaders over the years, replacing them either with dull loyalists or FSB members who don’t know anything about leading armies.

Fourth (I have heard this from numerous Ukrainians, but this might just be blatant dunking on the outgroup), Russian tactics are generally haphazard and outdated. Supposedly they use a lot of WW2-style “charge at the enemy with a ton of tanks and overwhelm them with force” tactics even though modern small-scale mobile operations can consistently outcompete that with smaller numbers.

Russia Botched the Invasion

There is a strong consensus that Russia’s invasion plan was badly flawed. Even beyond overestimating their own forces and underestimating the Ukrainians, the Russians made numerous mistakes.