Captured Ukrainian-born soldiers tell BBC why they fought for Russia
Why Ukrainian-Born Men Chose to Fight for Moscow
Ninoda.com – Behind reinforced walls and multiple locked gates in western Ukraine sits a detention camp housing men seized while serving in the Russian military. Most of the prisoners huddled in the shade along the yard's perimeter were drawn from major urban centres such as St Petersburg and Yekaterinburg — a marked departure from the poorer, more remote regions that supplied recruits at the war's outset. Yet the camp also holds a smaller, more complicated group: soldiers born on Ukrainian soil who nonetheless marched against their own country.
How the Interviews Were Conducted
Questioning prisoners of war demands care. The priority is confirming that no one is speaking under pressure, followed by gauging how candidly they feel able to talk given their circumstances. With no opportunity to reach active-duty personnel inside Russia, these conversations offer a rare window into the motivations driving the conflict — including those of Ukrainian-born men on Moscow's side. Every prisoner was offered the option to decline. Those who agreed were spoken with at a distance from any guards, without cameras present, and in Russian. Alongside several structured interviews, informal conversations took place across multiple locations within the camp.
Anton: Eighteen, Enlisted, and Unrepentant
Anton was ten years old when Moscow-loyal forces seized the part of eastern Ukraine's Donbas region where he lived. By the time Vladimir Putin escalated the conflict into full-scale war in 2022, he had just turned eighteen and signed up for the Russian army without hesitation.
"I don't regret my choice. I went to defend my land."
He insists his friends volunteered alongside him. Then came the text messages from home.
"Dead, dead, dead."
Other prisoners confirm the pattern: every comrade they entered the war with has since been killed. They also note that fewer men are stepping forward to fill the gaps, even with substantial enlistment bonuses on the table — a sign that Putin's preference for avoiding a broad mobilisation may soon be put to the test.
Identity, Occupation, and the Blurred Line
When Ukrainian forces capture their own citizens on the battlefield, those men face treason trials before being transferred to the same PoW camps as their Russian counterparts. Officially, Kyiv continues to regard them as Ukrainian and treats Moscow's grip on their territories as provisional. The lived reality, however, is messier.
"They're very pro-Russian, and their national identity is very blurred,"
says Petro Yatsenko, who works at Ukraine's coordination headquarters for prisoners of war.
Anton does not see himself as a traitor. Asked about his Ukrainian surname, he waves it away as meaningless.
"I consider myself Russian. A country means nothing, it's all about nationality. All my family are from Russia. All my roots are from there."
An entire cohort born within Ukraine's borders has matured under occupation, educated through Russian-language schooling and saturated with Kremlin-controlled media that has depicted Kyiv's authorities as "Nazis" and illegitimate for years. Since the full-scale invasion began, additional territory has been folded into the same system. Anton has absorbed all of it and now speaks almost exclusively in Russian political slogans. He refers to Putin as "my President" and believes the war should continue until the remainder of the Donbas is taken, notwithstanding the hundreds of thousands already killed in the attempt.
"It's a shame that people died, especially those who are innocent. But war is war. It could have been ended. But no-one wanted to do that."
Artyom: Shrapnel, Bitterness, and a Broken Promise
In the camp's medical ward, Artyom occupies a corner bed, his body riddled with shrapnel after just two months of active fighting. Like Anton, he hails from Donetsk and enlisted of his own accord — though not merely for the money.
"We have our own grudges."
He recalls how his region endured intense bombardment in 2014 as Ukrainian forces attempted to prevent its breakaway from Kyiv. Yet his time in uniform has curdled into resentment. His commander, he says, was "bad," and he never received the promised 400,000 rouble (£3,470; $5,000) enlistment bonus. To compound the indignity of his numerous wounds, the injured Russian soldier lying in the bed directly opposite had been paid five times that sum.
Labour, Coffins, and a Forced Exception
Prisoners held by Ukraine are put to work in order to earn small sums for improved food and cigarettes. In this particular camp, that labour takes the form of building coffins.
Every Ukrainian-born prisoner interviewed came from a district occupied since 2014, and nearly all had joined the Russian military voluntarily. One exception stood out: a man from Donetsk region who said he had been compelled to fight. As he spoke, his eyes kept darting around the room, uncertain of whom he could trust.
This Christmas, shoppers in Ukraine may find themselves purchasing holiday decorations crafted by prisoners of war held in the country's camps.
Related Reading
Frequently Asked Questions
What is Captured Ukrainian born soldiers tell BBC why?Captured Ukrainian born soldiers tell BBC why is the main topic of this guide. The article explains the context, practical details, and next steps readers should understand.
Why does Captured Ukrainian born soldiers tell BBC why matter?Captured Ukrainian born soldiers tell BBC why matters because readers are looking for a useful answer, not just a short summary. Good content should match search intent and help them decide what to do next.