"Kil took the worst of the shrapnel and saved my life, but he didn't make it": stories of soldier-dog bonds on the front line

One can often find animals near soldiers, and some even manage to tame a gopher, hedgehog, or marten at the front line. However, dogs come first, with no competition. The reason for that is simple, and the story unfolds below.

International Dog Day is celebrated on 26 August (a national holiday in the US), offering a perfect opportunity to showcase the vital role these loyal animals play in the lives of military personnel.

"A dog that’s constantly by your side can often understand you even better than your loved ones back home."

"Dogs form a strong bond with people and stay with them no matter how tough things get," says Petro, a soldier from the 128th Zakarpattia Mountain Assault Brigade. "For example, a cat might leave if things get really bad, but a dog will stay, even in the mud, without food and under fire. I know that because of my own dogs. For soldiers, it's crucial to have someone who is always by their side, who sees and experiences what they do, and for whom you are their whole world. A dog that’s constantly by your side can often understand you even better than your loved ones back home."

Petro, a 32-year-old sergeant, is a veterinarian in civilian life. He holds a higher degree from Lviv National University of Veterinary Medicine and opened a veterinary clinic in his home town of Mukachevo, specialising in dogs and cats. He is skilled in surgery and can perform procedures like caesarean sections on animals. However, in the early days of the full-scale war, Petro left his job and joined the fight.

"I'm an idealist; even as a student, I went to the Maidan [during the Revolution of Dignity] and fought against the Berkut (I took a good beating back then). [Berkut was a special police force under Ukraine's Ministry of Internal Affairs, known for its violent crackdowns against protestors during the 2013-2014 Euromaidan protests – ed.] So [when the Russians invaded – Ukrainska Pravda] I went straight to the military enlistment office. At first, they placed me in the Territorial Defence Forces but, after a week of lineups and roll calls, I went back and said I wanted to fight, not waste time in the rear. I asked to join the 128th Mountain Assault Brigade. A few days later, I was on the front line in Zaporizhzhia Oblast. 

To be honest, I went in as a grunt, convinced that I would be dead within two weeks at most. I wanted to hold off the Russians so the other guys would have some time to prepare properly. If someone had told me back then that I would still be fighting in the third year of the war, I would have laughed in their face. But I didn't tell my family; my mum didn't know I was on the front line for a long time."

In the early days, Petro faced extreme cold, digging fortifications in temperatures of -40 degrees Celsius. His unit was under constant Russian fire.

"Our position was attacked by a Russian tank. The tank’s crew knew we were in deep trenches, so they took a smart approach – shooting at tree branches to cover us with shrapnel from above. After the first shot, I suffered a concussion and, when I looked around, there was shrapnel everywhere. Two of my comrades were injured and I led them to the evacuation point after the attack. 

I was also supposed to be evacuated, but I refused and went back. On the way, I had to stop frequently; my head wasn’t working properly. I asked the guys to keep an eye on me in case I fainted. Later, I had further concussions, but I lost count of them. Plus, I was working with the 'boot' [SPG-9 (Spear), a Soviet-made anti-tank gun – ed.], and every shot from it caused what felt like a micro-concussion. It's so loud that it feels like your chest is being crushed."

At that time, soldiers often encountered domestic animals, most of them abandoned, concussed, or injured.

"When we entered frontline villages from which people had fled, I always checked the sheds and dog kennels. I often found dead dogs tied up, as well as pigs and cows who had been locked up and had starved to death. 

These sights always filled me with anger and resentment towards the owners. I understand that people needed to escape, but it would have taken just a moment to untie their dog or open a kennel to give the animals a chance of survival. Death from thirst and hunger is a very terrible thing."

However, the military also often came across animals that had survived.

"One day, a stray Vietnamese pig came to us. It’s a small breed, but this was an adult of about 60 kg. We started feeding the pig and it would come with us to the combat positions. It really liked our anti-aircraft gunners, so we nicknamed it Stinger. We also had a milk calf that came along. Its mother had been killed by a mine, so it stuck with us like a little dog. We even fed it with the milk we were given," Petro recalls.

These animals didn’t form attachments to just one person; they were friends with everyone. So, when the military moved on, they left them in the care of the next team.

"But one soldier took in a stray dog – a wounded and shell-shocked German Shepherd named Dina. He cared for her, and Dina is still with us after more than two years, having passed through all the fronts," the soldier says. "I see three ways of bonding with dogs. The first is when you adopt or buy a puppy and raise it to your preferences. The second is when you tame a stray dog. Once it moves from the wild into human care, it becomes very loyal. 

The third is when you take in a dog that was abandoned in the war. This is a dog that had lived with people its whole life but then suddenly found itself alone, facing hunger, despair, shelling, and injuries. When such a dog comes under human care again, it shows the highest degree of service and loyalty."

"The nights were getting cold, so Kil would always lie on top of the sleeping bag – keeping both himself and me warm."

Petro also got himself a dog – he ordered a Belgian Malinois puppy from a kennel in Kharkiv, named him Kil, and began training him. To Petro, Kil was a true battle companion who went with him to the front lines.

"One night, our unit was moved back a bit into a patch of forest, out of range of enemy machine gun and mortar fire. We needed to get some good rest to move out in the morning. With no shelters around, we slept between trees and bushes in our sleeping bags. The Russians managed to locate us and hit us with cluster munitions.

The nights were getting cold, so Kil would always lie on top of the sleeping bag to keep both of us warm. I woke to the sound of a shell popping in the air, and then a series of explosions very close by. With no place to hide, I huddled in, trying to press myself into the ground. Then another shell, more popping right next to me, and more explosions – right beside me.

Kil suddenly started to whimper, jumped up, and ran to the side – right where the next cluster munitions hit. He took the worst of the shrapnel and saved my life, but he didn’t make it. He was eight months old."

Kil’s death was very poignant for Petro so he didn’t want to adopt another dog for a long time. But a few months later he bought a Jack Russell terrier and named it Zefirka (Marshmallow). 

"You should mourn a dog’s death and accept it," Petro says. "I understand what high-risk conditions domestic animals live in, in a combat zone. But it can be very emotionally taxing here, so you want to have a true friend by your side in order to switch to something else, not connected to the war."

Zefirka was cheerful, playful, and always optimistic. The whole battalion adored him, the soldier recalls. When a car arrived to take the soldiers to their positions, the dog would jump into it to accompany them.

"At the combat positions, he sniffed everything and thoroughly inspected the trenches and dugouts, studying where the entrenchments led to. If one of the soldiers went out at night, Zefirka would follow him. You didn’t even have to use a torch as you could just follow a white spot ahead of you. Many guys said: ‘If it hadn’t been for your Zefirka, we would have got lost.’ If the dog started getting nervous in an open area and tried to hide somewhere, then it meant an attack would start. He could sense it," Petro recalls.

But Zefirka didn’t make it either – he died when his owner was away, at a combat position.

"It had been raining a lot back then and a bog formed in the trenches, so it was hard for Zefirka to move around on his short legs. That’s why I left him in the village with my fellow soldiers. Somebody poisoned Zefirka. It must have been the locals as all the soldiers adored him. Before that, our German Shepherd was also poisoned but I was there and saved it by inserting an IV drip, even though it was already paralysed.

I couldn’t save Zefirka, though. The guys called me and said he was feeling very poorly, and 15 minutes later texted: ‘Zefirka’s dead…’ I don’t know why anyone would do that, as the dog never did anybody any harm," Petro says.

"I went through an evolution here – from big breeds to small ones"

Dogs have played an important role in Petro’s private life as well – it was thanks to them that he changed his status from bachelor to family man. 

"Tamara and I are from the same village. She’s 10 years younger than me so I never really looked at her in that way," Petro explains. "Before the war Tamara’s dog got sick, and I was treating it – that’s how we started talking. But it wasn’t romantic. Right after the war started, I went to a military enlistment office and posted a photo of some combat boots on Facebook.  And Tamara texted me: ‘You aren’t dumb enough to go to war, are you?’ ‘What an attitude!’ I thought. And replied saying that since I’d done military service, I was going to be an instructor for rookies. Then nobody from my family would find out I was already in the combat zone.

Tamara listened to those kinds of lies for a month and then asked me: ‘Where are you?’ – ‘Here, in Zakarpattia, in Vynohradiv at the training ground,’ I replied, not even sure whether there even is a training ground in Vynohradiv. ‘Well, I’ll come to see you then!’ – ‘No way! It’s a restricted facility, they won’t let you in!’ – ‘I’ll come and argue with them so they’ll let you outside the gates for at least a few minutes.’ I then confessed that I had been in the combat zone for a while, on the front line for a while. And she… cried! I thought to myself – what a reaction, we aren’t even a couple! By the way, I asked her out but she was so offended that I had lied to her that she rejected me. She married me, though," Petro laughs.

Petro and Tamara’s wedding is another interesting story. At the beginning of 2023 Petro was granted leave for the first time and returned home for 10 days. He didn’t plan on getting married back then.

"Tamara and I met and she asked me: ‘Do you even think about marriage, about having your own family?’ – ‘Of course I do!’ I replied, and went home to sleep. In the morning I called her and said: ‘Get ready, we’re going to Mukachevo.’ – ‘Why?’ – ‘To buy wedding rings, because we’re getting married!’ She thought I was joking. But she went with me anyway. We went to a jewellery store and she was like: ‘Wait, are you serious?’ But she only believed me when I paid for the rings.

Right after that we went to see my mum who works in Mukachevo. I asked her whether she could get a day off on Friday. ‘Why?’ ‘This is why!’ – and I showed her the rings. ‘Ah, then we should invite guests and throw a party!’ But we just arranged a celebration dinner at a restaurant. That’s how I became a family man."

Petro’s wife is courageous, even reckless – she’s visited him in the combat zone many times.

"She just presents me with a fait accompli: ‘I’m leaving by train, I’ll arrive at the station at such-and-such a time.’ And I have no choice," Petro laughs. "Once she was very close to the front line and even came under fire with me. She remained calm. Maybe it was a good thing, because since then she has understood me way better."

Tamara is four months pregnant, and Petro really hopes it’s a boy.

"We will call him Petro," he says. "My name is Petro, my dad’s name is Petro too. I’m a fourth-generation Petro Petrovych, and I want to continue the family tradition…"

A few months ago Petro adopted another dog, a small Chihuahua with the tough name Dragon. He is the smallest of all the dogs before him, and this has its advantages. 

"I’ve gone through an evolution here – from large breeds to small ones," Petro reveals. "The big ones are very cool, they are great service dogs, but it’s way harder to have them as a pet at combat positions. Whereas you can just shove a small one under your armour and go wherever you want, it’s always by your side."

Later Petro also bought a Vietnamese piglet for whom he built an enclosure. 

"[The piglet and Dragon] got along right away. They run around and play together, they eat from the same plate. We named the pig Pumbaa. We adopted it later than Dragon, who already had a name. But now they’re always called Timon and Pumbaa.

If only you could see our boys when they come back from their positions – dirty, unshaven, tattooed, tough… But as soon as they see the dog and the pig they start baby-talking to them, carrying them, petting and kissing them. They laugh with happiness and forget about everything, as if coming back to normal civilian life."

Yaroslav Halas, officer of the 128th Mountain Assault Brigade, exclusively for Ukrainska Pravda. Zhyttia 

Translation: Sofiia Kohut and Polina Kyryllova

Editing: Rory Fleming-Stewart