This mission unfolds as a grim ritual repeated again and again. The lands shift beneath the feet of those who move through them, and the unseen can arrive after seven months. Even when humor is found in life, the weight of a task well done by the doers remains undeniable and enduring.
Every day, Antón, a member of a small J-9 unit, stands among the positions near Kharkiv as the Russian army presses to siege a major Ukrainian city. The work involves recovering the mortal remains of enemy soldiers and, at times, locating locals who have fallen under occupation. The aim is not revenge but restitution, a quiet insistence that the dead deserve a proper burial with dignity and honor, and that the memory of those who served with them should be kept alive.
A right-hand driven Mitsubishi Pajero leads the way, a symbol of a long journey through icy roads and a forest carpeted with pine. The vehicle edges forward a dozen kilometers north of the city, then the road’s condition worsens. Leaves scatter across the surface, trees block the way, and the engine stalls. Antón and his two assistants must abandon the comfort of the track and press on on foot. The mission becomes perilous, and from that moment the team must rely on their memory of paths already taken, tracing the snowbound routes to avoid mines and remnants left by retreating forces. It is a solitary, careful march rather than a collective march, the kind of moment where every step counts and a single misstep could be catastrophic as spring returns with a renewed sense of danger.
In the field, information comes from informants and from the tangible clues that linger in the winter air. The team searches for identities in pockets, keepsakes, and the texture of the clothing left behind. Humor helps endure the strain, but it also serves as a shield against the insults that sometimes fly in the heat of the moment. A photograph on a phone shows a dog, a white Spitz that seems out of place for the task at hand, signaling the limits of improvisation when tools and training are scarce. Three days captured on film become a visual record of the moment, a human memory in motion that travels from phone to memory and back again.
As they dig through sunken trenches and bombed bunkers opened by the retreating forces, the crew encounters the stark reality of war. A crew member, using a flashlight in a tunnel, overhears a Russian line spoken in a language that feels foreign in that moment yet remains the mother tongue of many. The discovery of a frozen vest bearing a Saint George ribbon—an emblem that has become taboo in Ukraine—signals how symbols of conflict can linger long after the field is cleared. The ribbon becomes a quiet reminder of the divided loyalties and the long memory of conflict that still lingers in the landscape and in the people who carry its weight.
After the initial uncovering, the team proceeds with caution to remove frozen ground and snow from the hole, aware that human remains could lie in adjacent space. Although a definitive identification cannot be made immediately, a handful of batteries retrieved from the pockets adds a touch of dark humor to the moment. The phrase about Duracell batteries triggers a wry comment about the endurance of equipment, turning a grim finding into a muted moment of irony that keeps morale intact while never losing sight of the task at hand.
What emerges through the investigation is a portrait of resilience and duty under pressure. The work demands both physical endurance and a steady, unflinching attention to detail. It is a constant balance between the immediacy of danger and the long arc of memory, a reminder that every trace and every gesture contributes to a larger narrative about the cost of war and the meaning of staying true to one’s responsibilities. The effort rests on a foundation of practical skill, composure, and a shared sense that the dead deserve more than a forgotten echo. In the end, it is the human element that defines the mission—a quiet, persistent effort to honor those who have fallen and to give back dignity to the living who continue the long journey home. Attribution: observed reportage and firsthand accounts of post-conflict recovery efforts in the Kharkiv region