Ukraine hunts for draft dodgers at EU river border: NPR
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![A Ukrainian border guard poses with his dog on a pebble beach on the Tisza River bordering Romania, in Velykyi Bychkiv, Ukraine, on July 10.](https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims3/default/strip/false/crop/8660x5773+0+0/resize/1100/quality/85/format/jpeg/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fnpr-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2F2d%2Fc3%2Fa53ff10c4ef9b340b1196f436a53%2Fgettyimages-2166191530.jpg)
A Ukrainian border guard poses with his dog on a pebble beach on the Tisza River bordering Romania, in Velykyi Bychkiv, Ukraine, on July 10.
Florent Vergnes/AFP via Getty Images
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Florent Vergnes/AFP via Getty Images
VELYKYI BYCHKIV, Ukraine — A few months ago, Vitalii Barelin was in eastern Ukraine, using a drone to hunt down Russian troops invading his homeland. Now the 25-year-old soldier is on a river in the west, chasing his own countrymen: Ukrainians trying to dodge military service.
“They think they are smarter than you,” he said, “because you fought in the war and they are running away.”
With Russia’s war with Ukraine now in its third year, the Ukrainian military is addressing troop shortages through mass conscription of men between the ages of 25 and 60. Although men of military age are banned from leaving the country, tens of thousands have fled since the start of the war in February 2022, according to border authorities in neighboring countries.
At least 15,000 people have fled through Romania, according to Romanian border police. One escape route is the Tisza River, which separates Romania from Ukraine for 39 miles.
Barelin and another border guard, Artem Shakhovalov, 30, walked along a stretch of river less than 300 feet wide. On the other side — in Romania — a man in bright red shorts was clearly visible, riding a bicycle.
This route is very popular; an app developer even made a game about swimming across the river, although he stressed to NPR that “it is not designed as a practical guide and cannot help” actually crossing the river.
Indeed, Shakhovalov says, crossing rivers in real life is no game.
“It’s dangerous,” he said.
A whirlpool with rocks
The danger begins on the rocky banks, he said. Those who wade across often slip on mossy rocks and hit their heads. Some are knocked unconscious. Those who don’t slip wade into the river — a narrow brown strip of rapids — believing it’s easy to cross, Shakhovalov said.
“Look, the river looks waist-deep but it actually has a very strong undercurrent, so people trying to swim will feel like they are spinning,” he said, as if they were in a whirlpool filled with rocks.
![Ukrainian soldier Vitalii Barelin, 25, uses a drone to catch people trying to illegally cross the Tisza River. He spent months on the eastern frontline and says Ukrainians who dodged military service should not be allowed back.](https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims3/default/strip/false/crop/1200x800+0+0/resize/1100/quality/50/format/jpeg/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fnpr-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fac%2F15%2Fcaf86e3a433cafd64403b906bc4f%2Fwhatsapp-image-2024-07-10-at-5-18-19-pm-1-copy.jpg)
Ukrainian soldier Vitalii Barelin, 25, uses a drone to catch people trying to illegally cross the Tisza River. He spent months on the eastern frontline and says Ukrainians who dodged military service should not be allowed back. “They don’t deserve to live here,” he says.
Hanna Palamarenko/NPR
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Hanna Palamarenko/NPR
Dozens drowned. Others were seriously injured, like a man Shakhovalov had recently arrested.
“He is my age, about 30,” said Shakhovalov, “and he wants to reunite with his wife and children in the European Union.”
Most men try to cross the river at night, said Lesya Fedorova, a spokeswoman for the Mukachevo border guard unit that monitors the Tisza River.
“They think we can’t see them, but we have thermal vision,” she said, adding that border guards also use drones and cameras to monitor the river.
Fedorova scrolled through photos on her phone of the men who had been arrested. Some looked disoriented. Others had inflatable children’s swimming rings strapped to their arms and chests.
“They never said anything,” she said. “They were ashamed. Because running away when your country needs you most is wrong.”
Optics and propaganda
Andriy Demchenko, the chief spokesman for Ukraine’s border guard service, told NPR that the agency contacts the military after detaining men who try to cross the border illegally. Military recruitment centers can then decide whether they want to mobilize the men. Courts also impose fines.
Iulia Stan, a spokeswoman for the Sighetu Marmatiei Border Police, which is responsible for managing much of the border with Ukraine along northern Romania, said those trying to cross into Romania require some form of protection.
A Ukrainian border guard flies a drone over the Tisza River, the border with Romania, where his unit is searching for illegal border crossers, including men trying to flee abroad to avoid military service, in Tyachiv, Ukraine, September 26, 2023.
Thomas Peter/Reuters
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Thomas Peter/Reuters
Preventing draft dodgers from fleeing Ukraine is not just about adding troops. It is also a matter of image: the Ukrainian government wants to show its Western partners that the country remains united in defending itself.
Serhii Kuzan, head of the Kyiv-based Ukrainian Center for Security and Cooperation, an independent research group focused on defense issues, said there were also concerns that stories about Ukrainian men dodging military service also “play into Russian propaganda” that Ukraine is losing the war.
“In fact,” he argued, “thanks to the mobilization, we were able to release combat-ready units and carry out a successful attack in [Russia’s] Kursk region this month.”
Who can escape?
Draft dodgers found sympathy in the border village of Velykyi Bychkiv, near the Tisza River.
Villagers interviewed by NPR said the mass recruitment campaign had turned their town into a zone of fear. Police and border guards were among the few military-age men who passed through the town’s vegetable stands and a small motel called Twin Peaks.
Villagers like Yulian, 26, said most men of military age who had not yet joined the army were too scared to leave their homes.
“I know there are people who don’t even want to go to the store,” he said.
Like other military-age men interviewed here, Yulian declined to provide his last name to avoid being targeted by police. He met NPR at the pizza and sushi restaurant he runs.
“All my friends are on the front lines or have left Ukraine,” he said, pointing toward the river. “I stayed because I have a business.”
![In the village of Velykyi Bychkiv in far western Ukraine, eligible men are so afraid of being drafted that many go into hiding.](https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims3/default/strip/false/crop/4032x3024+0+0/resize/1100/quality/50/format/jpeg/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fnpr-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2F65%2F59%2Fa4f9c0014be1b833e107b660356c%2Fimg-6382.jpeg)
In the village of Velykyi Bychkiv in far western Ukraine, eligible men are so afraid of being drafted that many are running away. “Those who can, run away,” said one villager.
Joanna Kakissis/NPR
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Joanna Kakissis/NPR
By law, he is registered with the military and carries his identification with him at all times. He said he constantly worries about being arrested while making deliveries.
He mentioned a few male friends in their 20s who were arrested after standing near the riverbank.
“They were just talking,” Yulian said. “The border guards came up to them and asked, ‘What are you doing here?’ The border guards thought everyone wanted to cross the river. They forced the men into the car and took them away.”
At a small cafe down the street, another military-age man, Vasyl, said he sneaked out of hiding to work shifts there. He needed the money to support his ailing grandmother, whom he said he cared for with his sister.
Before the war, Vasyl got a job at a meatpacking plant in the Czech Republic, earning three times more than a similar job in Ukraine.
“If I have the chance, of course I will come back,” he said.
He said he was afraid to cross the river on his own and could not afford to pay the smuggler $5,000 to help him out.
“Whoever can,” he said, “run.”
Another way
Vasyl stopped talking as several men dressed in green camouflage entered.
They were soldiers who had just finished a long tour of duty but had received new orders for mobilization. They were in their mid-20s and said their names were Serhiy and Oleksii. They declined to give their last names out of military protocol.
Both said they had no plans to leave the country but understood why some men did. Oleksii said the war seemed to go on forever and “everyone wants to live.”
![Landscape of the Tisza River, which divides Ukraine and Romania.](https://npr.brightspotcdn.com/dims3/default/strip/false/crop/1200x800+0+0/resize/1100/quality/50/format/jpeg/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fnpr-brightspot.s3.amazonaws.com%2F5d%2F9a%2F9c15578445208c924d025a76bfd7%2Fwhatsapp-image-2024-07-10-at-5-18-12-pm-copy.jpg)
Landscape of the Tisza River, which divides Ukraine and Romania.
Joanna Kakissis/NPR
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Joanna Kakissis/NPR
Back on the banks of the Tisza River, border guard Vitalii Barelin pointed to the 7-foot-high reeds where the escaped men had tried to hide. Then he pointed out the front line.
He said he thought to himself: “You were there, you hadn’t seen your family in a long time, and you risked your life for your country. And these men chose a different path.”
Barelin said those who escaped would never be allowed to return to Ukraine.
“They don’t deserve to live here,” he said.
To him, they were as dead as the corpses found in the Tisza River.