Oleksandr, a man in his early 40s, was travelling to work by bus in occupied eastern Ukraine when he was abducted by police officers and soldiers at the beginning of 2022. He was taken to “some kind of military detention center” where 30 others were already being held.
Looking around and talking to the other inmates, Oleksandr discovered he was surrounded by “thieves, the crooked, the lame, and people suffering heart conditions,” he recalled. Many were suffering from a physical disability, yet were mobilized and forcibly drafted into the war of aggression against their own country.
Oleksandr, who was interviewed by The Reckoning Project (TRP), was one of hundreds of forcibly conscripted Ukrainian men suffering from long-term medical or mental health conditions forced to fight for the occupiers. It is a war crime to compel civilians to fight against their own people, even if they are healthy.
A month after he was seized, he was forced into frontline combat. And then, in late 2022, he was sent to an assault unit undertaking even more hazardous operations. Ukraine captured him near Pervomaisk, Luhansk Oblast, in May 2023.
“They were pounding us all night,” he said. “Then they started to bombard us with these drones.”
He was taken to Kharkiv, where he had a medical assessment, something the Russians didn’t bother with before he was sent to the front. He said the Ukrainians “found HIV” in a blood sample, which would have shown up if Moscow had carried out even the most basic tests of recruits’ fitness to fight.
Vlad, another conscript, had never expected to pass a health exam, so was unconcerned when he was ordered into the military. He was in his early 20s when the Russian occupiers arrived in his city in 2014, and he worked at a metallurgical plant that supplied materials to Russia. He was issued with a “Donetsk People’s Republic” passport, as well as Russian documents.
Three days before the 2022 full-scale invasion, Vlad was summoned via his shift supervisor, who said “there would be criminal liability for failure to appear,” he told TRP. He reasoned that even if he did show up, he would be deemed medically unfit.
“They said there would be a medical examination. I thought I wouldn’t pass,” he said. He had been treated in a psychiatric institution for a combination of “mild mental retardation, lethargy, poor alertness, and attention issues,” but this didn’t matter to the Russian military. He was issued with a Soviet-era helmet, a kit bag, and an army cooking pot.
Ivan, a former miner from Donetsk, also received a summons just before the full-scale invasion. He had suffered a broken leg which didn’t heal properly, meaning he had a disability classification that would exempt him from military service under Ukrainian law.
At the time, he held a Ukrainian passport and “DPR” documents, which were a requirement for many jobs, and told TRP researchers his disability had been “officially recorded.”
Despite his injury, he was sent into combat in the war-ravaged Staromykhailivka region. His struggles got worse: first, his son died from a shrapnel wound elsewhere on the front, then he suffered two strokes, the first in late 2022, which severely affected his hand function, and the second in early 2024.
After the second stroke, “I stayed in bed for two days while they gave me IVs; I recovered and went home,” Ivan recalled. “Then they came to my home and took me away.”
He was returned to the front despite his condition and was captured by Ukrainian forces in April 2024.
“It doesn’t work at all,” he told TRP researchers as he showed them his hand. “I can only lift it up; the fingers don’t work.”
When asked what he would do if he were exchanged and sent back to Russian-held territory, he broke down crying, telling researchers he would likely drink.
Officials say around a quarter of prisoners of war held by Ukraine are people from the occupied territories. Russia has sent more than 50,000 people from occupied Crimea alone to fight its war over the past 12 years, according to the Kyiv-based Zmina Human Rights Center.
Both the forcible conscription of civilians and the deployment of the sick and wounded — including those with mental health conditions — can amount to war crimes. The prohibition encompasses all “military and civilian [persons] who, because of trauma, disease, or other physical or mental disorder or disability, are in need of medical assistance or care,” according to the Geneva Conventions.
Oleksandr, Vlad, and Ivan all meet this definition.
Being forced to fight is a component of a deliberate, engineered system of persecution against Ukrainians as a people, according to a report by the London-based Centre for Statecraft and National Security. It fits with a pattern of repression, arrests, deportations and forcible transfers, enforced disappearances, and unfair trials in the occupied territories.
During combat, there is no opportunity to pursue treatment, and soldiers’ health often deteriorates at the front. Oleksandr’s HIV is progressing, but he has been refusing to take the antiretroviral therapy available to prisoners being held by Ukraine.
“There are a lot of side effects from those pills,” he said, adding that he wants to live out his days in the Ukrainian camp where he was interviewed. “What is left here? A year and a half? I think I will die here.”
Pseudonyms have been used throughout.
Aliide Naylor is a contributing editor with The Reckoning Project.
Nataliia Sirobab is a journalist with The Reckoning Project, specializing in Russian war crimes, specifically cases of child deportations and adults with disabilities.
Inna Kubai is a journalist with The Reckoning Project, specializing in war crimes, crimes against humanity, and the problems facing displaced people.
Since 2022, The Reckoning Project has investigated war crimes in Russian-occupied Ukraine and taken evidence from more than 800 survivors.
Europe’s Edge is CEPA’s online journal covering critical topics on the foreign policy docket across Europe and North America. All opinions expressed on Europe’s Edge are those of the author alone and may not represent those of the institutions they represent or the Center for European Policy Analysis. CEPA maintains a strict intellectual independence policy across all its projects and publications.
