On the frontline in Ukraine waiting for Trump

The two soldiers – known by their callsigns ‘Musician’ and ‘Monk’ – were sitting in the dugout waiting for orders. It was dark, and dawn promised no clearing of the clouds, so the chance of launching their Ukrainian-made drone was limited. Theirs is a recce drone, with a wingspan of about two metres and the profile of a falcon. They call it “our bird”. It’s used to spot Russian armour to be attacked either by artillery or armoured drones. These days, the Ukrainian infantry is stretched so thin, the burden of fighting falls mainly on the drone operators and artillery crews. Day by day, metre by metre, they’re losing ground.

We were near the town of Kurakhove, in eastern Ukraine, which Russian forces have almost surrounded. In November 2022, we bought rubber boots in Kurakhove market, which was full of stalls selling everything from local produce to Iphone covers. Now, the town is apparently almost deserted – the civilians have fled. We wore the boots to slosh through the mud in a trench that looked out over the featureless steppe. The Russians, according to Vadym, the soldier on lookout, were about 500 metres away. That felt rather close for comfort – especially when a sniper shot over our heads and we had to crouch for half an hour while the Ukrainians suppressed his fire – but the mood was hopeful. Vadym talked of fighting for democracy and freedom. Two years on, ‘Musician’ and ‘Monk’ were trying to sound resilient, but the strain showed in their faces. We all knew that in week, or maybe a month, the dugout would likely be occupied by Russian soldiers. Now, the Ukrainians are fighting not for ideals but for survival.

The talk in Ukraine these days is all about negotiations. Everyone knows that President-Elect Trump’s pronouncement that he can end the war in 24 hours is nonsense. But they also know that the weaponry President Biden and European countries have provided has not been enough for them to prevail over their bigger and better armed enemy. So talks are coming, and, if accompanied by a ceasefire, for many Ukrainians, including frontline soldiers, that will be a relief.

But what about the conditions for a deal? After three years when European and American leaders have taken their cue from Ukrainian insistence that they will sacrifice not an inch of their territory, now the question is where will the lines be frozen? Russia occupies about one-fifth of Ukraine. It’s trying to seize more before negotiations start. There is next to no chance Ukraine will go back to its borders before the 2022 full-scale invasion, let alone the 2014 borders when Russia took Crimea and much of Donbas.

For Ukraine, the most important thing is that, after an agreement, President Putin should not be able to come back and take yet more of Ukraine, and that he should be prevented from sponsoring a puppet government in Kyiv. That means security guarantees from Nato, and a path to EU membership. Putin will do all he can to resist. Trump has endless belief in his own ability to do deals, but it’s not clear that he understands what’s at stake for Ukraine. Impatient to stop the fighting so he can claim he brought peace, the next US President might push for a quick truce that benefits Putin, and sells out Ukraine.

Vadym, who showed me around the trench in November 2022, was injured the following year. The last I heard, he was in western Ukraine, training soldiers. ‘Musician’ and ‘Monk’ have lost comrades. The hope now is that Donald Trump’s deal-making will not mean that their sacrifice is in vain.