‘The war will last as long as Russia exists’: Ukrainian buzz of victory fades as Trump returns

Anastasia Fedchenko, 36, wails in agony – her anguish echoing around the gilded walls of St Michael’s Cathedral in Kiev.

She sits with her hands on either side of her stomach. She is pregnant with her first child, a baby girl. Her husband, Andrey Kusmenko, is just inches away, in uniform – in an open coffin.

The Marine commander was killed in action in eastern Ukraine on January 4 this year. He is 33 now and forever. When Andrey fought in the war, Anastasia wrote about it as a journalist.

Her brothers, armed, proceed to place red roses in her coffin. As the funeral prayers end, Anastasia leans forward and gives “the love of her life” one last kiss.

Outside the cathedral she pays tribute to her “most handsome husband” who died for his country.

“I’m sorry that my daughter will never see her father,” she tells the BBC, “but she will know that he was a soldier, an officer and that he helped Ukraine survive for her and for other generations.” Did everything he could for. ,

“This war will last as long as Russia exists. I’m really afraid that our children will inherit it from us and will have to go and fight.”

Not according to Donald Trump, who famously claimed he could end the war in a day, and who will return to the White House next week. He is already pushing for peace talks between Ukraine and Russia.

According to Sergeant Dmytro, call sign “Smile”, this would be an insult to the dead, who fought with Andrey and came to the cathedral to mourn them.

“Let those in power decide, but I don’t think those who lost would want them (Ukraine’s leadership) to have a seat at the table,” he says.

“After the funeral, we are going back to work. We will fight for every Ukrainian killed.”

Many people here believe – like Anastasia and Dmytro – that far too many Ukrainians have died for trying to reach a deal with Russia. But public opinion is changing, and others believe there is so much death and destruction that no compromise can be made.

As Ukraine grapples with its third winter of war, one word is now rarely spoken here – “victory”.

In the early days of Russia’s full-scale invasion in February 2022, we heard it everywhere. It was a rallying cry for a nation that suddenly faced columns of enemy tanks. But the past is indeed a foreign country – and one with greater territory.

Moscow now controls about a fifth of its neighbor (including the Crimea peninsula it annexed in 2014) and says any peace talks must take this into account.

The Ukraine of 2025 is a place of cold, harsh realities – where cities are emptied, cemeteries are filled, and too many soldiers have abandoned their posts.

Six hours’ drive from the capital, in the heart of Ukraine, a young soldier is in the dock.

Serhiy Hnezdilov, about 24, is locked in a glass chamber in a packed courtroom in the city of Dnipro. He is facing trial on charges of deserting the country, one of several charges.

Since 2022, about 100,000 cases have been opened against servicemen who left their units, according to data from the General Prosecutor’s Office of Ukraine.

When Hnejdilov became absent without leave, he publicly demanded a clear deadline for ending military service. He says he is ready to fight but not without a plan for demonetization. He had already served for five years, including the two years before Russia’s full-scale invasion.

“We must continue to fight,” he told me during a break in the hearing, “we have no other choice.”

“But soldiers are not slaves. Everyone who has spent three years or more on the front line is entitled to rest. The authorities have long been promising to set the conditions of service, but they have not done so. “

In court he also complained of corruption and fatal incompetence among commanders.

After a brief procedural hearing, he was handcuffed and returned to jail. If found guilty, he faces up to 12 years in prison. When he was taken away he told us, “Help Ukraine.”

Many other Ukrainian soldiers are still pressing every nerve on the front line, trying to at least slow down the Russian advance.

Mykhailo, 42, a chain-smoking commander of a drone unit, battles “Non-Stop” — a Ukrainian energy drink — every night.

He is with the 68th “Jaeger” Brigade, which is fighting to capture the eastern front-line city of Pokrovsk – a major transportation hub. The Russians are closing in from two sides.

Mykhailo takes us into a Ukrainian situation – a journey we can only risk after dark and in an armored car. The Russians also have their eyes on the sky. Their drones remain a constant threat. He is alert and tired.

He tells us, “I went to the enrollment office in the first days, and I expected everything to be done quickly. To be honest, I am tired. Time off is rare (in his case a total of 40 in three years) day). The only thing that saves me is that I can video chat with my family.”

We arrive at a disused house where Mykhailo and his men unload their equipment and set up a pop-up drone position. The screens are moved in and cables are connected.

Outside, soldiers erect an antenna taller than a two-story building. They work faster with torch light – using red rays rather than white because these are harder to detect. They then collect bombs to arm their “vampire” – an oversized attack drone.

For the next few hours, we have front row seats as Mykhailo – call sign “Admin” – operates the drone, his eyes darting from one screen to the next. First, he drops supplies to front-line Ukrainian troops and then drops an anti-tank landmine on underground Russian forces. It falls slightly short of its target.

He is up against strong winds and Russian jams. At all times he keeps an eye on incoming enemy drones.

Mykhailo spots a Russian warplane in the sky. A few minutes later we hear the distinct rumble of three Russian glide bombs. “It’s too far,” he tells us. That means two-three kilometers away.

During the lull, I asked Mykhailo if he thought a peace agreement was possible. “Probably not,” he says. “This (Putin) is a completely unstable person, and that’s putting it very gently.”

“I hope that at some stage the enemy will stop because they will get tired, or someone with a healthy mind will come to power.”

He will not comment on President Trump.

While Mykhailo is a veteran of this war, one of his men is a novice. Twenty-four-year-old David joined last September as the Russians approached his hometown. He now spends his time handling explosives – although he would prefer to study languages ​​in college.

“Nobody knows how long the war will last,” he says, “probably not even politicians.”

“I would like this to end soon so that civilians don’t suffer and people don’t die anymore. But given the way things are now on the front lines, it won’t happen soon.”

He believes that if the guns were silenced, it would only be a pause before Moscow came back for more.

The winds increase and the vampire drone crashes. It is currently out of action. The unit packs up and leaves as quickly as it arrived. They will become active again as night falls and resume the duel in the sky.

But on the ground the Russians are making headway, and a Trump presidency would mean pressure for a deal. And here’s another bitter truth: if it comes, it is unlikely to be on Ukraine’s terms.

Additional reporting by Vietske Burema, Gokte Koraltan, Anastasia Levchenko and Volodymyr Luzhko.