From the Norwegian border to the battlefields in Ukraine: Dmitry Vasilets tells his story

The 29-year-old ex-officer Dmitry Vasilets who served in Pechenga on the Russian-Norwegian border, spent 15 months in a penal colony as he didn’t want to continue fighting in Ukraine. For reasons of conscience, and after the death of two close friends at the front, he chose prison as the only option to terminate his contract with the Russian Ministry of Defense. The Barents Observer tells Dmitry's story.

“I believe I need to stay here in Russia. Talk to people, tell the truth, support them. Even at the risk of being locked up again in the future,” former Northern Fleet serviceman Dmitry Vasilets said to the Barents Observer. At the end of September 2024, the young man was released from prison on parole. “Kill or be killed” “In January 2022, we knew nothing,” Dmitry said.

“There were no rumors, we were just going to exercises. But there was some kind of premonition in the air. Usually, one battalion tactical group stays home to cover our northern border (with Norway). But this time both groups were sent to exercises, something like this had never happened during my service. We simply loaded up the equipment, trained the people and went to Kursk (a city on the border with Ukraine).

We settled in a tent camp. As deputy company commander for military-political work, Dmitry was tasked with buying a TV for his unit's tent. “That calmed me down a bit,” he said. “I thought that if we needed a TV, it must really be just an exercise.” But two days before the invasion, everything changed. “The guys said that the commander lined up the personnel and announced that we would be entering Ukraine.

The chaos began,” Dmitry said about the first days of the invasion. “They started showing Putin's video address in the camp, handing out leaflets with instructions on how to fight the Nazis, and strict prohibitions on looting. “I didn't even read those leaflets,” Dmitry admitted. “I was completely baffled.”Residents of settlements closest to the border met Russian soldiers with Russian flags. Dmitry believes that this was planned in advance to motivate people and raise their fighting spirit.

“We slept two or three hours a day,” he recalled. “The losses were huge, and reports were constantly coming in. Mine was staff work: maps, information exchange, and liaison. I did not participate in direct combat.” “Those who’ve been in combat have an automatic instinct when they see the death of their comrades and subordinates: kill or be killed,” Vasilets said. “Everyone was afraid of death, but I was first and foremost held by the responsibility for my people, it did not allow me to just leave.” “I was attached to my subordinates,” he added.

“When the ranks began to thin, we started receiving 'price lists'. They read: destroy a plane and get 200,000 (rubles), destroy a tank and get 100,000, destroy a platoon and get 50,000. Something like that,” Vasilets recalled. “There was a dialogue inside me: does it mean that they are simply buying us? Like we are mercenaries?

After all, this is a system for mercenaries. I didn't want to believe it, that I had become a mercenary, and that up there they decided they could simply buy us.” “After a while, you begin to realize that you are on the territory of another state and you understand that your side is wrong,” Dmitry continued. “There is death all around, there is fighting, and you are being torn apart inside. You understand that you need to leave, but you can’t, you worry about your comrades.” Vasilets recalled how he was once walking from one place to another. An elderly woman came out of her house, crying: “When will this all end?” After two of his close friends, Aldar Soktoyev and Maksim Belanchik, were killed, Dmitry couldn't hold back his tears.

“Hatred washed over me,” he admitted. “But then you realize that the dead can't be brought back. It was just tearing me apart inside. I realized that by responding to killing with killing, you only continue this cycle of hatred. But even then, I couldn't leave.” The death of his friends destroyed his sense of fear.

“I started moving on autopilot,” Dmitry said. “I stopped putting on my bulletproof vest and gear. Four months in, I was in such a psychological state that I really wanted something to fly in and for it all to be over. I wanted to leave there either as the two-hundredth – killed, or the three-hundredth – wounded. Leaving service By the middle of the fifth month of the war, Dmitry was offered leave at army headquarters.

It seemed like a ray of hope, but the leave was not approved, with the written statement that he would only be able to leave “after the SVO (special military operation) is finished”. Realizing that he could not stand it any longer, Dmitry packed his things and went to the brigade to sort things out. “They told me there was no one to replace me, but after I insisted, they let me go,” he said. After handing in his weapon and buying civilian clothes, Dmitry travelled home to his loved ones. There he met the wife of his killed friend Maxim Belanchik.

Together they first went to Ulan-Ude to the grave of his other killed friend, Aldar Soktoev, and then to the city of Chita to see Maxim's family. “His loved ones were grief-stricken,” Dmitry recalls. “When we stood at Aldar's grave, there was already a field of new graves dug nearby, fresh ones, for the next victims. It was a terrible sight.” Dmitry returned to the unit again to submit a report for dismissal. He wrote that he refused to follow any further orders concerning participation in combat operations for personal reasons.

This happened before Putin announced a partial mobilization. The process of Vasilets' discharge began. “I started thinking about what to do, where to go, in general, to plan my fate. And then they announced a partial mobilization, and I was still in the process of discharge. They told me and other refusniks: you either go to prison or go to war.

When they asked at the formation whether there were those who refused (to go to war again), I took a step forward,” Dmitry recalls. All things must pass, and this too shall pass”: how 15 months in prison passed. “When I left for the penal colony, I understood that this was a certain stage of my life that I would have to go through. I was reassured by the phrase ‘All things must pass, and this too shall pass’.” Dmitry served his sentence in a minimum security penal settlement in the Republic of Kalmykia in the south of Russia. This type of colony is considered the ‘lightest’ in the current Russian penal system.

Convicts there can work outside the colony. What also makes penal settlements special is that convicts can travel there on their own. “In prison parlance, such people are called first-timers,” Vasilets said. For the first month, Vasilets was not given any employment; it was the summer season and he, along with other convicts, went to the fields to “pick grass” – remove weeds under the scorching sun. “Then I went to work at a sausage factory.

The rest of the time – fourteen months – I worked there. I was assigned to casing products. I cleaned the intestines so that they could stuff the minced meat into sausage. The work was quite hard, the dirtiest of all,” Vasilets said. While working at the sausage factory, Dmitry stopped eating meat following ‘Ahimsa’, the ancient Indian principle of nonviolence.

He became a vegetarian. Dmitry Vasilets was on a full eight-hour workday, but he was only allowed to work 4-5 hours, so he received about 5,000 rubles (roughly $55) a month. A year later, the prosecutor’s office noticed the uneven distribution of working hours among the prisoners, and the ex-serviceman began to earn 10,000 to 11,000 rubles a month. Every month, he also received a retirement benefit of about 3,000 to 4,000 rubles for participating in combat. “There was enough money, actually, because I don't smoke.

I still had time to save up and help the boys financially,” the ex-officer admitted. Dmitry Vasilets describe his time in the colony as ‘Groundhog Day’. To brighten things up, in the evenings he tried to read and answer letters that his supporters sent him to the colony. “I sat down at the table, took out my books and wrote out quotes. I mainly read literature on Buddhist philosophy: books by the Dalai Lama, for example, “More than Religion.” Also Shantideva’s “The Path of the Bodhisattva.” I liked the autobiography of Mahatma Gandhi, he was a great man,” Dmitry recalled.

Access to news “from outside” is limited in Russian prisons. Prisoners can learn about the latest events in letters, from television, or from their loved ones. One relatively independent source was the Russian weekly newspaper “Sobesednik” (Interlocutor), which required a subscription to read. However, the Ministry of Justice declared the outlet a “foreign agent” this September after which the editorial board stopped publishing the paper. Prisoners lost the opportunity to receive independent news.

“Memorial (human rights organization) sent me a political newspaper by subscription. The deputy warden came and said: ‘We’ll be fired, along with you.’ And I thought, where else could they fire me? They started drawing up a report on the confiscation of the newspaper, which I had never even seen,” Vasilets said about censorship in the colony. During the first week, Dmitry Vasilets received seven letters at once. They were from strangers, but the words of support seemed surprisingly warm and close.

Dmitry ran to the officer who had accumulated a whole stack of letters. He asked in surprise: “Vasilets, who is writing to you so many letters?” Dmitry honestly explained that his interview was publicly available on the Internet. Letters came from all over the world. People supported him and wrote: “Hang on, don't give up, we are with you!” One of the employees even jokingly complained: “Vasilets, tell them to stop writing to you, I'm tired of picking up your mail.” In the colony, Dmitry made friends with another inmate who had been convicted on the same charges. He also refused to continue fighting in Ukraine.

On military service and childhood Vasilets' path in the military began with the death of his father. Dmitry was only 13 years old at the time. “It was a very hard blow to my teenage psyche. The world became somehow black and white. I loved my father very much.

He was a policeman. There was a very strong attachment to my father, my mother died when I was 3 years old.” After his father's death, Dmitry’s sister took him to Khabarovsk. Her husband, who was in the military, suggested that Dmitry try himself in this field. Dmitry admits that he did not think much about this offer. Until that moment, he had only seen suvorovtsy (students of Suvorov military schools for boys of 10–17) on TV and could not imagine himself wearing a military uniform.

The preparation began, and soon he passed the exams and was enrolled in a military school. There was no inspiration or strong motivation behind this decision. Dmitry emphasizes that it was not his dream. Everything happened by itself, and he decided to follow this path, believing that in Russia, social elevators most often lead either to the military or the police. Vasilets entered the Suvorov Military School in Moscow.

“Any experience is important,” Dmitry shares his thoughts. “My personality traits were laid down in the Suvorov Military School, if we take my military path. Responsibility for personnel, caring for my subordinates. During my entire service, I never touched a single one of my subordinates. I tried to resolve all conflicts peacefully, through conversation.” After graduating from the Higher Military Combined Arms Command School, Vasilets began to think about where to serve.

He was 23 at the time. He served in military unit 08275 in the 200th motorized rifle brigade of the Northern Fleet. It is located approximately 10 kilometers from the border with Norway. Vasilets' subordinates were conscripts and contract sergeants. There Dmitry met his future friend Maxim Belanchik, they had common views and methods of working with personnel.

“Many servicemen have a habit of yelling at their subordinates, thereby asserting themselves. We had completely different views on service, we always solved problems with words. Maxim and I had very similar personalities. We really enjoyed working with the personnel. For example, we would call the boys (subordinates) out of the formation for their birthdays, congratulate them, and give them chocolates.

We tried to maintain a healthy atmosphere in the team,” Vasilets said. On May 13, 2022, senior lieutenant Maxim Belanchik, commander of a deep reconnaissance company, was killed in Ukraine. For Vasilets, this tragic loss would become one of the reasons to refuse to continue fighting on Ukrainian territory. After some time, Vasilets was transferred to a battalion tactical group with contract soldiers under his command. Dmitry still remained true to his values.

One day after work he went to see how his subordinates lived. During one of these visits he noticed that the guys' table was covered with a thick layer of sugar, and suggested that they clean it up. They brought out buckets, and together with them they brought the whole house clean. When Vasilets shared this with his commander, he perceived it differently. The company commander said that his actions could be considered humiliation as he brought himself down to do the cleaning with his subordinates.

This experience made him understand that it was impossible to fully realize oneself as a person in the existing hierarchical military system, since it requires you to maintain strict rules and apply methods of psychological pressure on personnel. Soon the serviceman began to wonder whether there was any point in remaining in this system. “All the events started to come together to bring me to the conclusion that I don’t want to be in this system. I wanted to do more self-education and educational activities so that I could realize my inner potential. I was already thinking about not renewing my contract when it expired in 2023, I didn’t want to give another five years to this system,” Vasilets said.

And then February 24, 2022 came. Investigation, trial and release For refusing to return to the war in Ukraine, Dmitry Vasilets was charged with failure to carry out an order under Article 332 of Russia’s Criminal Code. “While the criminal investigation went on, I refused to return to Ukraine four times. They did not expect that I would stand by my decision to the end,” Dmitry said. After Vasilets realized that he would definitely end up in prison, he decided to highlight his case on social media.

Vasilets gave an interview to Novaya Gazeta, which subsequently made his story known throughout the country. “I wanted to give information that was different from this propaganda rubbish that is poured on the heads of our citizens every day. I didn't want to just quietly go behind bars, it was important for me to share my thoughts with people. And I saw that my interview helped many people protect their loved ones and relatives,” Dmitry said. During the investigation, Vasilets sued the military unit for the right to undergo medical and psychological rehabilitation at a health centre, something that servicemen who have participated in combat for more than 30 days are entitled to.

The court denied him this right. After that, Dmitry was nevertheless offered to go on vacation. “The interview was published when I was at the health centre. Many people from Russia supported me in the comments, but people from Ukraine also wrote. I burst into tears then, I understood that ordinary people were continuing to suffer there, many were dying, it was very painful to realize, I wanted to stop all this.” After treatment, Vasilets returned to the Murmansk region.

He was summoned to the unit. There he was asked to ‘delete’ the video and an investigation was conducted into why he was filming in a military uniform, which he had had to ask permission for from his superiors. Dmitry was forced to write an explanation. “I poured out my heart in that report,” Vasilets said. “I said that people were returning and they weren’t receiving psychological help, that they weren’t being treated, that they were simply abandoned.

I realized that the higher command would read it. After that, many people who returned from the war were sent to health centres. Maybe it was somehow connected to my case.” Eventually, Dmitry Vasilets was sentenced to 29 months in a penal settlement. The Zaozersk Garrison Military Court issued the verdict on April 7, 2023, finding him guilty of refusing to obey an order during an armed conflict. The sentence was later reduced by three months in the appellate court.

On his second attempt, Dmitry was able to leave the colony on parole. “At the second hearing, the judge and the prosecutor asked me provocative questions and waited for me to probably lose my temper and give in to my emotions,” Vasilets recalled. “And I was already thinking that, apparently, that's it, they'll write that I'm an extremist and leave me in prison. They asked me, 'Why did you refuse to carry out the order?' – I say: “I can't kill a human being”. – What, not a single one?

– I answered: “Correct, not a single one”. “The prosecutor asked provocative questions too,” Vasilets said about the court hearing. “When the judge asked what accusations he had against me the prosecutor said, “Your Honor, this man is mentally unstable.” And I thought, well, if I'm mentally unstable, why are you keeping me here? I need treatment. In the end, the judge granted my request for parole, and I was released.” Future plans Dmitry Vasilets left the colony on September 27.

He now lives with his sister in St. Petersburg. Dmitry wants to help people like him who do not want to fight. He contacted the “Movement of Conscientious Objectors” and took part in a broadcast with Elena Popova titled “Refusing to fight at the cost of freedom”. “Nobody believed, neither the lawyer, nor the human rights activists, and even myself, that I would be able to get free.

So the universe is helping me, and I have tasks here that need to be accomplished. Many advised me to keep quiet, or, better yet, to go abroad, forget everything and start a new life. But I am not going to do this, I do not want to go anywhere.”