“My Faith Kept Me Going”: UCU Student Ivan Kukhar on His Military Service and Years in Russian Captivity

“If you have faith in something good and hope for the best, then with God’s help, everything will work out. I did not believe I would survive so many interrogations. I thought I would run out of strength and that my situation would only worsen, but with God’s help, I am alive. I endured it all,” reflects Ivan Kukhar, a student at the Ukrainian Catholic University’s Faculty of Philosophy and Theology, a veteran of the Armed Forces of Ukraine, and a former prisoner of war who spent nearly three years in Russian captivity.

Ivan Kukhar is a 26-year-old Ukrainian born and raised in Bar, a city in the Vinnytsia region of central Ukraine. After completing the ninth grade, he attended a local vocational school—the Mykhailo Hrushevsky Vocational School—before being accepted into the Odesa Military Academy in 2017. He graduated in 2021 with a specialization in military intelligence and special operations, after which he was commissioned to serve in the 56th Separate Motorized Infantry Mariupol Brigade.

Ivan was serving in the Donetsk region when the full-scale Russian invasion began. In August 2022, while on a mission, he was captured by Russian forces and remained a prisoner of war for 33 months. Upon his return from captivity, he decided to enroll in the theology program at the Ukrainian Catholic University.

In an interview for the project Small Stories of the Great War, Nadiya Ilchuk discusses Ivan’s military service, his time in Russian captivity, and the role of faith in his life and throughout the war.

Q: Ivan, you chose military service at a fairly young age—shortly after graduating from high school. Was becoming a military officer a lifelong dream?

Ivan: I had wanted to be a warrior since childhood; I dreamed of becoming a military officer. That is how I envisioned my future. For me, it was about personal development and mastering new skills. At 16, the military academy seemed like the best option: I could leave home, and my basic needs—food and clothing—were provided (e.g., he studied there from 2017 to 2021).

At the Academy, conditions improved every year. At first, we were not even issued cadet hats, but over time, we received the hats, mittens, and everything else we needed. During my training, the Army was undergoing a period of transformation and becoming more distinctly Ukrainian, and the quality of service in the Armed Forces was improving.

My choice was also influenced by a strong sense of patriotism and a desire to make a difference and achieve something meaningful. Of course, I experienced disappointment in the Academy itself; at that time, the only things that reminded me of patriotism were the blue-and-yellow patch on our uniforms and the chevron of the Armed Forces of Ukraine. This is not to say that everyone at the academy was pro-Russian—far from it. Rather, the Army as a whole was navigating a difficult period of transition.

Q: Tell me what positive developments you observed within the Army during your training.

Ivan: There were positive developments across many areas. Many officers—including those who graduated from Soviet military institutions—were actively involved in creating something new and improved.

Both junior and senior officers contributed to the transformation of the Army. There were many patriots among them, though their patriotism manifested in different ways. Some officers spoke Russian and did not plan to switch to Ukrainian, yet they were deeply committed to Ukraine at heart. Regardless of their language, these individuals contributed significantly to the country and identified strongly as Ukrainians.

Q: After graduating from the academy in 2021, you chose to serve in Mariupol. What was the city like at that time, and what was your service there like?

A: When I arrived in Mariupol, I was surprised to find that the military was treated with more respect and loyalty there than in Odesa.

In Odesa, walking around the city in uniform was often uncomfortable. Some locals reacted quite aggressively, labeling us as “fascists” or “Nazis.” I am not suggesting that everyone held these views; I remember one instance during a sports event at the Odesa Palace of Sports where we were helping the organizers. An elderly woman approached us and offered us coffee. Her kindness came as a shock because, generally, individuals in military uniforms were viewed negatively in Odesa.

In Mariupol, however, people were accustomed to the military. Soldiers frequently passed through the city—particularly those serving in the ATO (Anti-Terrorist Operation) zone and, later, the JFO (Joint Forces Operation) in the southern sector. Service members would often head to Mariupol on weekends to relax, grab a coffee, or purchase supplies for their units. There were also volunteer bases throughout the city where vehicles were repaired. Everything in Mariupol was closely connected to the military.

Q: Did the residents of Mariupol feel protected by the military, or were they hostile toward them?

A: The local population was generally divided into three groups: those who supported Ukraine, those who were against it, and those who were indifferent.

As for the latter group, these individuals felt deeply rooted in their homes and lives, expecting to remain there regardless of the political situation. When the tragic events of 2022 began—referring to the defense of Mariupol following the full-scale Russian invasion, which lasted from February 24 to May 20, 2022—most of these residents chose to stay. Their mindset was, “If Russia comes, we will manage. We have a home here, and there is nowhere else to go.” While many residents did flee to surrounding villages, a large number stayed because their understanding of the rest of Ukraine was limited, often shaped by television broadcasts—frequently from Russian TV channels. Consequently, many remained in the city, hoping that everything would eventually resolve and that they would be able to retain their property.

Q: What was the mood among the military on the eve of the full-scale Russian invasion? Was there a sense that a major conflict was imminent and that preparation was necessary?

Ivan: Many soldiers in our brigade were from Mariupol, as well as the Kherson, Zaporizhia, and Donetsk regions. Many of us had a premonition that an invasion was coming. Even while at the academy, I believed a full-scale invasion in the coming years was inevitable.

I was on the front lines when the war began in February of 2022. I had only been on leave for three days when I received a call to return; it did not surprise me. Based on the reports appearing on news channels, it was clear that something was imminent.

I recall a segment on the 1+1 TV channel featuring a sardonic headline about the Russian Embassy in Kyiv burning documents. The report showed black smoke billowing from their chimney—reminiscent of the signals used to announce a papal election—indicating they were destroying official files they could not evacuate. It was a clear sign that only days remained. The Russians had everything prepared: troops, supplies, and completed military exercises.

On February 22, I managed to arrive in Mariupol, but by February 25, leaving the city was no longer possible. I traveled from my military unit headquarters to the village of Pisky in the Donetsk region, where my brigade was stationed.

Q: What were your motivations at that moment? Was there any fear?

Ivan: It is difficult to describe. I sensed that a significant turning point was approaching. I was dissatisfied with my previous life and understood that I would have the chance to change everything drastically. Military service during relatively peaceful times, such as during the Joint Forces Operation, is entirely different from what we are experiencing now; the difference in the scale of hostilities is enormous.

There were many difficulties in the Army, particularly regarding bureaucracy. I assumed that at the start of a full-scale invasion, this would cease—that I would no longer be buried in paperwork. At the time, I still possessed a sense of youthful idealism, and I believed that it would finally be possible to make a real impact and achieve something meaningful. A desire for action and progress burned within me.

Q: You mentioned wanting to change your life. Were all your plans centered on Ukraine? Was there ever a desire to leave the country?

Ivan: All my plans were always tied to Ukraine because of my patriotic convictions. With the onset of the war, my commitment only deepened. Yes, of course, I experienced some disappointments at the Military Academy. However, over time, I realized that not everyone was as cynical as I had initially feared, and that the situation was not entirely bleak. My expectations were initially too high—something that happens to everyone, even in civilian life.

My patriotism truly ignited when active hostilities began. As an officer and commander of the reconnaissance platoon for the 21st Battalion of the 56th Brigade, I had a great deal of autonomy. At first, it was challenging, but I gained vital life experience and wisdom. I actually appreciated the uncertainty; it forced me to think independently and make my own decisions, as there were often no clear instructions to follow.

The real problem was that many people spent their time dwelling on hypothetical scenarios—what they would do if there were a massive offensive or if all logistics were severed—but by doing so, they only hindered themselves. The focus should have been on solving existing problems as they arose, rather than worrying about contingencies that were outside of our control.

Q: How did you manage to cope and maintain your resolve at the beginning of the full-scale invasion?

Ivan: Panic was pervasive. When the situation in Mariupol unfolded, many soldiers from that region were determined to break through to the city to defend their homeland.

Conversely, others were terrified that Kyiv would be taken and destroyed. They panicked, claiming that the country had been betrayed and all was lost.

However, there was also an opposite extreme: the belief that it would all be over in ten days. People—even senior officers—genuinely believed this, saying, “In ten days, two weeks at most, it will all be over. The Russians will run out of fuel.” How could anyone believe Russia would run out of fuel? I still cannot fathom it. These conflicting mindsets coexisted within a single platoon.

Q: Which of these categories did you fall into?

Ivan: As a recon platoon commander, my priority was keeping everyone cohesive. I understood that the war would not end in ten days, but I also knew we would not be defeated immediately. I was confident that the situation was not as dire as some feared and that our Western partners would provide support.

Although Ukraine was not fully prepared at the time, it was actively mobilizing. It is impossible to overlook the efforts of all units—even those who worked to bolster our defensive capabilities. I experienced this firsthand; I have served in the Ukrainian Army since 2017. Back then, we had to purchase everything, even our own unit patches, with personal funds. Over time, however, logistical support improved significantly.

As the saying goes, from my perspective, I could see that the Army was improving. I was certain that Ukraine would prevail, that no one would sign a surrender—certainly not within a few months—and that Kyiv would not be taken easily. Consequently, I strove to unite my platoon to minimize conflicts. On the whole, I believe that unity was maintained.

The first month of the full-scale war was the most harrowing, as people were uncertain of the situation and had yet to witness the rising wave of national patriotism. Once that shift in morale occurred, the military gained confidence; prior to that, extreme reactions often fueled pervasive fear.

Q: What kept you grounded and prevented you from succumbing to those extremes?

Ivan: What sustained me most was my responsibility for my people; as an officer and a commander, my commitment to the platoon’s mission fortified my character.

I made a concerted effort to conceal my personal anxieties and fears. Furthermore, I had little time to monitor the news due to the pressing challenges on the ground: some were preparing to flee, while others were prepared to defend our position to the last cartridge, to the last drop of blood. My priority was to maintain cohesion and control, ensuring that everything functioned as a coordinated mechanism.

Q: What was the most terrifying aspect of the initial phase of the war?

Ivan: My greatest fear was that a mass enemy offensive would begin before our people were prepared. We lacked the technical capabilities that were delivered later, and we faced significant logistical difficulties. I remember the pervasive fear that we would be encircled, that we had been betrayed, and that the enemy possessed full knowledge of our positions.

Furthermore, enemy propaganda was rampant among the Ukrainian servicemen from the very beginning of the war. It was both pervasive and highly effective. The enemy exerted psychological pressure by spreading disinformation—claiming that certain brigades had deserted, that generals had committed suicide, and that colonels had fled the country. While instances of betrayal certainly occurred and must be acknowledged, they were not nearly as widespread as the Russian media claimed. Unfortunately, some Ukrainian media outlets inadvertently amplified this disinformation.

I never anticipated that our logistics would collapse; I assumed we would face minor disruptions at most. However, some soldiers feared an impending famine, and I discovered individuals in my platoon stealing and hoarding canned food. They were terrified of starvation and abandonment. Yet, I remained optimistic: even in the event of a siege, there would be no alternative but to press on and adapt to the circumstances.

The core issue was that many soldiers were preoccupied with hypothetical scenarios—fearing a massive enemy offensive or the total severance of supply lines—which only served to undermine their own morale. Instead, they should have focused solely on addressing immediate challenges and resolving current issues, rather than fixating on circumstances beyond their control.

Q: How did the local residents of the Donetsk region treat you?

Ivan: In the village where the battalion’s main forces were stationed, there were a few local residents. These were mostly elderly people who had nothing left to lose and no close relatives to stay with.

I remember one old lady in Pisky. When bombardments took place near her house, we offered to help her evacuate and even contacted volunteers to find her housing, but she refused. She said she was born there and wanted to die there. Eventually, however, an artillery shell struck her home, causing a fire that left her seriously injured. The doctors from our battalion provided her with the lifesaving medical care.

This was during the second month of the full-scale war. We extinguished the fire and rescued her. She then recalled she had relatives in the Vinnytsia region and decided to move in with them. I am certain that her house no longer exists.

Q: How did you end up in Russian captivity?

Ivan: It happened in a way that I can only describe as foolish. On August 13, 2022, I went to check on one of the positions that was experiencing difficulties. Although I held the position of assistant chief of staff and chief of reconnaissance for the battalion between Pisky and Krasnohorivka, I was also helping out at headquarters due to a shortage of officers. I wanted to stay active, so I agreed to this assignment. At that time, I was already struggling with previous injuries, including several concussions and memory loss, but I remained on duty. I had eventually moved to a relatively calmer assignment, though in addition to my main reconnaissance duties, I would occasionally check on other positions and coordinate with other units.

At that particular forward position, we had issues with communications; one encrypted communication system was broken, so the soldiers were using a less reliable walkie-talkie. I took a replacement unit and a spare battery and set out. I entered the area quietly, leaving my driver and another comrade near the landing zone to avoid attracting enemy attention. There was no one in the dugout, and I saw no signs of an assault—nothing was scattered or destroyed. Thinking the soldiers had not abandoned their post, I decided to check further down the trenches.

Sure enough, I saw a soldier in the trench with an assault rifle. He was wearing the uniform that volunteers had once provided us, often called the “green British” pattern. I began asking him about the situation, but he did not seem to understand me well and suggested we speak to his commander. He spoke Russian, which did not strike me as unusual, as 95% of our battalion consisted of men from the Mykolaiv Territorial Defense Forces who spoke Russian. Neither of us had any identification marks, chevrons, or unit ribbons. I followed him to the commander without suspicion. When we arrived, I noticed several men with assault rifles pointed at us and saw distinct white ribbons on their sleeves. That was the moment I realized I had fallen into the hands of the enemy.

Q: What was your first encounter with the Russian commander like?

Ivan: When the Russian commander approached, a thousand thoughts swarmed through my head: to run away, to throw a grenade, to pull out my handgun. But I understood that these were not viable options; I had to wait. I realized that, above all, I wanted to live.

I experienced moments when suicide seemed like the most logical solution, but with God’s help, my mindset began to shift toward hope. I held onto the belief that, eventually, things would work out and get better.

The Russian commander asked who I was. I had my officer’s ID in my pocket, so I told the truth: I was Senior Lieutenant Kukhar, assistant chief of staff and chief of reconnaissance for the 56th Brigade’s First Rifle Battalion. He was shocked and asked if I was shell-shocked. I answered, “No—well, actually, yes. I have been concussed twice, perhaps more.” He replied, “I can tell by your face that you are concussed.” I realized then that I needed to stick to that story.

Later, the Russian commander asked what I was doing there. I explained. He was surprised that an officer had come to the front-line positions on his own; to him, it seemed incredible. He turned to me and said, “Sit down. I’ll give you a cigarette. Have a smoke and calm down. Don’t worry. It happens in life that you get captured. You’ll be sent to a prisoner-of-war camp, they’ll treat you there [he clearly thought I had suffered a head injury], and eventually, you’ll be exchanged. You’ll go home, and they’ll give you a medal.”

I was bewildered, as I had been bracing for an immediate, aggressive interrogation. I had been mentally preparing to lie about our positions, but this was completely unexpected.

Q: Perhaps he was shocked that a Ukrainian officer had walked right up to him alone?

Ivan: Yes, that certainly shocked him. I realized later that the Russian reconnaissance unit had moved forward, and I had simply missed them. They didn’t pay attention to me because I wasn’t wearing any chevrons and I was moving quickly. They couldn’t imagine anyone else being there except their own troops; that is why the positions were empty. Otherwise, they would have stationed guards there.

The Russian officer likely concluded that I had been severely concussed on the battlefield and was so disoriented that I didn’t know where I was or who I was fighting for. Some soldiers treat such things with a strange kind of understanding; since I was a soldier who had been fighting, they felt I deserved a certain level of respect, even if I was no longer a threat.

Because so many in our Army speak Russian, there was sometimes confusion regarding which side someone was on. It was often impossible to tell a Ukrainian from a Russian just by looking at them.

Q: Were you actually treated that “warmly” throughout your entire time in Russian captivity?

Ivan: No, that “warm” reception was not the norm. Honestly, that initial kindness scared me more than anything else, because it wasn’t what I had expected. I didn’t know how to react. When you are being beaten or interrogated, the situation is clear; but when they speak to you calmly and say, “Don’t worry, sit down, have a smoke,” it feels surreal.

There were many strange aspects to that first encounter. For example, after capturing me, they let me keep my Ukrainian cigarettes—which they actually considered superior to their own. It was also bizarre that they didn’t tie my hands. A young Russian soldier, perhaps 19 or 20 years old, approached me, addressed me formally, and asked to have a cigarette. I was 22 at the time, though I looked older. Surprised, I asked why he was being so formal toward a prisoner. He replied, “Well, you’re an officer” (laughs).

I kept wondering, “What is this? What is going on?” It felt like a prank. My brain couldn’t process how such a thing was possible. That kind of behavior doesn’t happen now, of course. The front line is more stable, and there is significantly more hatred on their side. However, soldiers often understand other soldiers better than anyone else, and not everyone is immediately driven to kill. Moments of humanity remain in some people, even those who lead lives defined by murder, suffering, and war.

Q: Where do you believe God is during a war?

Ivan: God is everywhere. There were many instances when an artillery shell landed nearby, yet I remained unharmed. There were various moments when an inexplicable feeling of “Stop!” came over me; while I paused to consider why I felt that way, a bullet would strike exactly where I had been headed seconds before.

Everyone who has been at war for a significant amount of time has had such experiences. However, not everyone connects them with God. Truly, there are moments that defy logical explanation. This is why soldiers in combat—even those who may not trust the Church, never attend services, and have no intention of doing so—still believe in God and believe in a Higher Power. They may not understand how it works, but they acknowledge and feel the presence of God in their lives.

It is about receiving help not only in life-or-death situations but also in everyday matters—finding the support and strength through prayer to keep fighting, to avoid despair, and to hold onto life.

With God in their hearts, people find the hope that the war will eventually end, that they will reunite with their families, have children, and build a home. In such moments, the presence of God is manifested through prayer.

Q: What happened to you next in Russian captivity?

Ivan: Things became much more predictable: they beat you, humiliate you, and attempt to extract information.

I understood that before answering anything, I had to hold out until Russians had beaten me as much as they intended—until they had brought me to a state of “compliance.” This bought me time to think about what to say, although it is incredibly difficult to do so when you are lying on the floor, tied up and naked, while being physically assaulted.

I remember my first interrogation: while I was tied up, they thrust a map into my face and demanded, “Where do we strike? Higher or lower?” (e.g., They were trying to locate Ukrainian positions). I replied that I could not find my way around their map, hoping to stall for time so my command would understand the need to relocate our positions. After my capture, I was anxious to know how events had unfolded, but it turned out that stalling did not benefit us; it only harmed my health. The headquarters where I had been stationed was not even destroyed by the Russians—it remained until 2023. However, I consider it an achievement that I managed to provide them with a significant amount of false or irrelevant information.

I had expected captivity to be even worse. If you were careful, you could sometimes deflect, though I was in a position where I was definitely expected to provide coordinates and specific data. Of course, you could attempt to deceive them, but you have to account for the fact that the enemy already possesses some information; they specifically ask questions to which they already know the answers.

My interactions were easiest with the enemy military intelligence representatives. When I fell into the hands of the MGB (Ministry of State Security of the DPR), which later became the FSB of the Donetsk region, the situation became much more difficult. They were not interested in questions about specific positions, but rather in higher-level matters, such as the chain of command, the features of our technical equipment, and other specialized information.

I want to emphasize that if you have faith in goodness and hope for the best, then with God’s care, everything will work out. I never thought I would survive so many interrogations. I truly believed I would run out of strength and that my condition would only deteriorate. But with God’s help, I am alive. I endured it all. Now, I have, for the most part, recovered psychologically.

Q: What kept you going throughout those three years of captivity?

Ivan: What sustained me most was my faith in God.

I did not want anyone to die because of me. I understood perfectly well that my words could lead to casualties. Therefore, I had to be extremely careful in choosing whom to “implicate” and whom to protect, especially considering that the enemy already possessed information about certain people. I had to create a plausible narrative while doing my best to shield others. The hardest part was the fear of sacrificing someone. I am profoundly grateful that many of those I was forced to speak about are still alive because the enemy never pursued them. I prayed to God for this, as I could not bear the thought of being responsible for anyone’s death.

It was during my captivity that I decided, upon my release, I would pursue a spiritual path. This did not mean I would immediately enter a seminary or become a priest—not at all. Rather, I understood that God would guide me, just as He had sustained me through those dark times.

I wanted to achieve certain ideological goals, and I realized that was only possible with God. Governments and politicians change, often driven by material interests, but God leads you toward something ideal and will never abandon you.

Q: Why is faith important to you? Could you share a personal experience of how faith has helped you?

Ivan: You cannot simply say, “I believe in God.” You must demonstrate that faith through your deeds: by striving to save lives, showing love for your brother and your family, defending the truth, and committing to causes that may be personally unprofitable but are fundamentally important.

True justice may not always exist in this world, but you must strive for it; if you do, God will help and protect you. Admittedly, choosing the path of truth is rarely easy. When I was in captivity, I tried to ensure that as few people as possible were harmed, and God helped me in that mission.

There were moments when I suffered from memory loss and a lack of concentration, but I am now studying and doing well.

Q: During your darkest moments, what did you ask of God?

Ivan: It was a simple, short prayer: “God, help me.”

During one of the first interrogations, as I was on the verge of losing consciousness, I had the surreal sensation of floating above myself. I saw my own body—tied up, naked, and being trampled—and time seemed to slow down. I realized that my life might be nearing its end. In that moment, I turned to God for help, then lost consciousness. When I came to, the interrogators had given me a break. After that incident, they began to trust my disclosures more.

Of course, I was still lying to them, and there were times they “caught” me in those lies, but in the end, they were more inclined to believe me. I endured all of this, not for the sake of rank or awards, but because I did not want my friends, comrades, and the people I had shared coffee with at the front to die because of me. In the end, I saved my life and the lives of many others.

The most important thing is to remain steadfast. Perseverance is a powerful virtue.

Q: What do you plan to do after graduating from the Ukrainian Catholic University (UCU)?

Ivan: It will certainly be something interesting and meaningful. I have not lived—and will not live—a quiet, ordinary life. I seek purpose and action. I know there are many challenges ahead.

I do not know where fate will take me, but it will definitely be related to my spiritual calling. I know for certain that God is one, regardless of the denomination, and it is Him I wish to serve. As for the specific format of that service, time will tell.

TRANSLATED BY SERGE MICHALUK