Lawyer Andrii Pysarenko joined the volunteer movement in 2014. He fought in Pisky near the Donetsk airport. Later, he became an instructor, training new volunteers. Afterwards, he returned to his legal practice until rejoining the front in 2022, this time for the full—scale war. Together with his comrades from the Honour volunteer unit, Pysarenko had even prepared for a partisan war, should the situation unfold according to the worst—case scenario. In 2022, following the battles in the Kyiv region, the unit was integrated into the Armed Forces of Ukraine. It proved itself in the Donetsk region — in Sviatohirsk, Bakhmut, Siversk, and Soledar — as well as in the Kharkiv region, where it took part in the liberation operation in 2022.
Commander of a mortar battery in the Da Vinci Wolves battalion and a 2023 graduate of the Ukrainian School of Political Studies, Andrii Pysarenko, is currently fighting in one of the most intense sectors — the Pokrovsk direction.
“I have extensive experience working and fighting directly with foreigners — NATO army veterans who came to fight alongside us. I had to command them, but in truth, I learned more from them than they did from me. Here, the main measure of combat effectiveness is the number of enemy vehicles and personnel destroyed. But in fact, by NATO standards, the most important thing in any mission is the preservation of your personnel.”
“In NATO armies, a soldier can ask any question of a higher—ranking officer. A mission must be discussed from all angles, and all information must be communicated to the troops. Thanks to these questions from soldiers, a commander can identify what might have been overlooked — maybe a backup means of communication wasn’t provided, or evacuation points weren’t finalised, or the logistics for delivering ammunition to the firing positions weren’t thought through, or simply the amount of food and drinking water wasn’t properly calculated. All this information must come from the bottom up.”
“I like this kind of organisation because a commander must communicate with their personnel. It’s not just about shouting ‘forward, forward!’ — it’s about explaining the overall plan: what we’re doing, why, and what we aim to achieve. If I send infantry to take up a position, I tell them that the task isn’t just to go there and sit for three days. I explain, for example, that this is to secure the left flank of an advance on a particular settlement, to prevent the enemy from outflanking us. And I tell them that in support of this mission, aerial reconnaissance is working for them, as are our heavy weapons, machine guns, grenade launchers, mortars and tube artillery, strike drones, and support units. Then the soldier understands the role they play — they are not just a tally mark in a report. They trust the commander because they know the information is truthful. A commander’s responsibility should not be just on paper — it must be personal, with real care for the most valuable resource: the soldier carrying out the mission in the field.”
“The most terrible thing in the army is having to call a soldier’s family to tell them he’s been killed — and hearing someone lose their mind on the other end of the line. I’ve had to do that many times. And you have to go on living with it.”
“Once, in Soledar in 2022, we came under artillery fire. It didn’t hit our building, but the one next to us, where a family of civilians was staying. A stunned and terrified old man came running to us. In the summer kitchen lay a wounded woman — her torso and hips were torn apart, she had multiple shrapnel wounds, but she was still alive. I would never have forgiven myself if we hadn’t tried to evacuate her. So, we pulled a vehicle out from the shelter, drove it up to the house. Everything around was open; the enemy could see it all. We barely managed to load her in and then raced out of Soledar under fire. From the moment of the strike to handing her over to the medevac team took 15 minutes, then she was transported to the hospital in Bakhmut. She died anyway. The next day, the brother—in—arms who helped me with the evacuation said he couldn’t go back to work. It hit him hard, psychologically. Because it’s brutal — seeing a human body torn apart right in front of you. I gave him the day off. Even though our company commander asked me why, we didn’t have the time to rest, the combat intensity was very high.”