Actions speak louder: 29 Kolomyia City Council members, employees enlisted to fight for Ukraine

Those unwilling to fight come up with various excuses: "let the civil servants go to the front first," "there is no war in western Ukraine, and in Kosmach there is even an uprising against the mobilization."

hromadske visited Kolomyia in Ivano-Frankivsk Oblast, where six council members and 23 employees of the city council, mostly from high positions, went to the front. Two of them were killed: the head of the education department and a city council member. Some were wounded, others were demobilized due to illness. Currently, 21 out of the 29 who stood up to defend Ukraine two years ago are still defending it.

"Muscovites cut off a head and played football with it"

Mykola Andrusiak returned to work after his injury. He now manages the affairs of the executive committee.

He says that in early March 2022, a group of like-minded people from the city council, as well as his acquaintances, friends, his brother, and himself, agreed with the leadership of the 10th Separate Mountain Assault Brigade "Edelweiss," which is stationed in Kolomyia, that they would join them as ordinary infantrymen because most of them had not served in the army. The only expert in his field was the deputy mayor, Oleh Tokarchuk. He is a doctor, so he went to the front as a combat medic.

In total, 29 people signed up: city council employees and members. Almost an entire platoon was formed together with their relatives and friends.

I ask, what is the phenomenon of Kolomyia City Council? Is it a patriotic region? People who fought in the Ukrainian Insurgent Army (UPA), were members of the anti-Soviet youth armed organization of Galicia, associated with the Organisation of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN) underground, and so on lived here and in the villages around it. Kolomyia resisted the Bolshevik government as an occupying power for a very long time – and rather fiercely. There was a joke that the communists even wanted to introduce a special train "Kolomyia-Kolyma."

"My grandfather served ten years in Stalin's camps, and my grandmother also served ten years. It was still considered ‘juvie’ because they were imprisoned very young, but otherwise, they would have sentenced them to 20 years," Mykola says in his office. “After Stalin's death, they were granted amnesty. My father's two uncles were killed because they held higher positions than my grandfather. One had his head cut off and Muscovites played football with it.

I understood what kind of enemy we were dealing with, and God forbid that it should appear on our territory. I think most guys have something similar in their biographies."

Counting nine seconds between tank shots

"Even in 2022, we realized that the state needed us. At first, as a mass. Now the situation is a little different: we need specialists," the soldier reflects.

The basic military training course lasted five days. On the seventh and eighth day, the first "KIAs" were already recorded.

"We were in the north of Kyiv and Zhytomyr oblasts, then near Chornobyl. We did not understand how to fight, what was happening, what to do. And our first months were months of survival.

At first, the enemy treated us like children. The Katsaps would shoot a few civilians, and the rest would run in our direction. We would come out of the hiding places to help them, and then a drone would arrive. It would calculate how many of us there were and pound us," the Kolomyia resident recalls.

The next stage of the war for him and his fellow countrymen is Donetsk and Luhansk oblasts in May-August 2022.

"It was more interesting there. We went through a period of harmonization and already understood what we were doing and how to do it. We learned how to shoot and knew what, how, and where to fly," he laughs. "During the first part of the war, we were split into two companies. Then my company was disbanded, and I joined my brothers-in-arms from the city council. We spent the last two weeks together in Sievierodonetsk. We left there on rafts, because the bridges were broken."

In August, a car carrying Mykola's close friend was hit with an anti-tank guided missile. Everyone was killed, but he was wounded in the leg – and he is still undergoing treatment. A week later, Andrusiak himself came under fire.

"I was a little too careless. It was adrenaline. The enemy was attacking from one flank and then the other. We, the fire support company, were actively stopping them with grenade launchers.

• I got out of the plantation and straightened up, because I needed visibility: I was adjusting and aiming the AGS. Well, they spotted me," he laughs, "and started shooting at me from the tank."

There were nine seconds to reload between hits. Mykola could have run towards his fellow soldiers – there were six of them hiding in the plantation – but he realized that he would lead the enemy to them.

After the last shot, he was concussed and could not get up. However, the wall of smoke allowed him to crawl unnoticed toward his unit. Mykola was wounded in the leg – a plate was inserted there, and eight months later he returned to work. The soldier is facing another surgery.

"It's clear that when colleagues become brothers-in-arms, they show qualities I never knew they had. Especially if they are men in a close environment. They start to look like spiders in a jar," Mykola jokes. "Some are braver, some are more cowardly. 

However, during the war, such things are leveled out, the brotherhood covers it all, exposes everything. I was lucky that I went to war with people I knew. Because it is both trust and friendship. But the hardest thing to lose is close brothers-in-arms.

If you've known someone for a month or two, it's also a tragedy. But not as much as with those you've known since school. We knew Lyubomyr Bordun, the head of the education department, for half a lifetime. It hurts, it really hurts," he sighs.

Now Mykola's two brothers are at the front. This is not uncommon: both father and son fought in their company. The father was wounded, and when he was being treated, his son was killed. Everyone from Kolomyia has a brother, brother-in-law, son or husband on the front line.

"It is not the choice of the city council to go to war. It just so happened that the city council united us," the soldier says. Outside of work, he and his colleagues help their fellow soldiers at the front. Currently, he is repairing Starlinks.

"Give me a weapon in my hands"

Oleh Tokarchuk, deputy mayor of Kolomyia, has been busy since the first hours of the invasion. Letters to partner municipalities around the world, organizing aid, opening a center to work with IDPs, a hub for collecting humanitarian aid. In early March, as he did every morning, he stopped by the center and was asked to... buy sand and cat litter boxes. He bought them and went to the military enlistment center, saying: "Give me a weapon in my hands".

"Even though I was busy until late in the evening, I realized that I was doing the wrong thing," he recalls. Oleh is the head of one of the stabilization centers in the eastern part of Ukraine. He is a military doctor.

His colleagues from the city council decided to join Edelweiss together with him. Tokarchuk told them: "We have different routes ahead of us: I have a job as a doctor under any circumstances, and you don't have a military background. So think about whether you want to become infantry." And the next day, everyone came.

"We mobilized together and served in one unit, in one company. The mayor of Boryspil serves in our reconnaissance company, there are several members of the Verkhovna Rada, and a deputy mayor from a town in Ternopil Oblast.

A lot of people went to war from Kolomyia, which is a sign that patriotic and motivated people worked in the city council," Tokarchuk explains the phenomenon of his city council.

At war, he heals, while others from the region fight. As soon as they pass by the hospitals, outpatient clinics, and stabilization centers where he serves, they stop by to see him. They are close people.

"We had coffee, and exchanged goodies. I always ask them how they are doing, whether they have learned the tactical medicine well. If they go out without a tourniquet, I say I will tear their head off," the doctor jokes.

Near Bakhmut in 2022, on the Day of the Doctor, Mykola Bondarenko, one of 29 people from Kolomyia, was seriously injured on his table.

"People call me to congratulate me, and he dies in my arms. It was very hard. I knew him well. These are the losses that hurt the most," exhales Oleh.

His colleagues never came to see him again, they mostly call to get advice: a toothache, a headache. "Who else can they call?" Tokarchuk is always ready to help.

"How can I get an appointment with you and when?" - "After the victory!"

He is often approached in the stabilization center: "Oh, doctor, hello! I've been to see you," "You treated my child," – these are all former patients from civilian life, where Oleh Tokarchuk was a pediatric traumatologist.

"When a fighter comes to me and sees a familiar face, he feels safer. He can relax and knows for sure that he will be helped. Although we, of course, help everyone. There is no such thing as fighting for Kolomyia people more. All the soldiers are 100% our people," Tokarchuk says.

He calls the wounded "kitties" and "bunnies" out of his pediatrician habit. He asks them to raise their armos or leggos. They do not mind.

"No one has ever complained to the higher command that I call them 'kitty' or cuddle up to them," the soldier laughs.

He says that at the front he had to learn some professional skills from scratch. In his civilian medical practice, he has never encountered gunshot wounds, and there are no man-made disasters in pediatric traumatology.

"However, it is easier for doctors in war, because under any circumstances, we fight with our base: a syringe and a bandage. We are not forced to dig trenches or hold machine guns.

I don't think it's hard for me. For the guys in the trenches, in the mud or in the cold, under fire, it is a hundred times worse and more dangerous. It's not difficult for me to find motivational things for myself, not to burn out on resources, and to support others."

I asked him what the longest stretch of time was that he has to stay awake.

"Last year, near Soledar, we slept for two hours a day. And near Bakhmut, there were 200 wounded every day, so no one thought about sleep."

He boasts of the support of the city council, which helps the brigade with drones, money for vehicle repairs, and more. In December, Tokarchuk received a 300,000-hryvnias ($7,854) generator for his stabilization center, so he is not affected by power outages. The Samopomich team, which included Tokarchuk, donated heated tables, and volunteers from Kolomyia are bringing medicine and clothing to the front.

"Right now, a vehicle with wheels for evacuation transport is on its way to me. Our mayor visits the brigade every month. He meets with the management and his subordinates. He visits me as well. We talk about the war and what is happening in the community. The mayor calls it a field meeting," laughs Oleh.

Not all brigades and units have support from communities and their local volunteers. If they are stationed in the occupied territories (Mariupol or Bakhmut), things are sad there. The Kolomyia "Ten" was lucky.

Finally, I ask what role is closest to Tokarchuk's heart: deputy mayor, pediatric traumatologist or military doctor?

"To be honest, the third one. But I am sure that the previous two help me a lot in this. I run a stabilization center, and that's why the managerial role is very important to me.

If there are any problems, I quickly find a common language with the local government – here, where we are located. I treat the wounded, so the role of a traumatologist is also very important.

And I am happy because I am sure I am doing what I have to do. War is a tragedy, a catastrophe, people die. Children from the frontline areas died on my table. All this is terrible. But for a man, doing what you think is right is the moment of the best satisfaction.

Some of the wounded guys – our Kolomyia guys – are rushing back to the war, because although it is more dangerous, it is also easier – there is a clear division between friend and foe, and there are like-minded people around."

He receives a call from a civilian patient on another number: "Doctor, how can I get an appointment with you and when?" – "After the victory!"