Trench war
"He was much older than us. Even much older than the other foreign volunteers", recalls Dima, who fought with him in the battalion, nicknamed the “Da Vinci Wolves” after the unit's founder. "On the first day, we went to the firing range. He took a simple Kalashnikov with no sights and set up at 800 metres from the target. Everyone laughed at him. When he hit the metal target five times in a row, the laughter died down", he laughs. In the evenings, the unit's officers get together to plan future operations. "A lieutenant was listing our equipment needs. The commander interrupted him: ‘All I need is Nate and his Kalashnikov’. That's how Nate joined the group", adds another of his comrades.
Nate joined Honor, a group of Ukrainian nationalists, already on the front line in 2014 during the Maidan revolution. "Some of them were just children. But they had a rage, a strength", he confides. Over the weeks, Nate learned to navigate his new comrades, who had all volunteered to join the front line. "There were lawyers, teachers, engineers... They gave up everything to defend their country", he says.
Despite the language barrier, Nate is helping to professionalise this volunteer unit, which has not yet been formally integrated into the regular army. "It was more of a militia than a unit. A group of citizens who organise and equip themselves to defend their country, describes the Texan. And the real difference between a militia and a professional unit is effective communication. So that's what we've been working on", he adds. Few of the soldiers in the unit speak English, and things got off to a rocky start until he met ‘Alf’, a body-built nuclear engineer with a family who spoke fluent English. "He became my Ukrainian chaperone", he jokes.
Faced with incomprehension
For two and a half years, Nate lives with the siblings he has chosen for himself. His unit evolved. From a volunteer regiment assigned to support missions, the Da Vinci Wolves were given increasingly demanding assignments. "We are now an assault unit. Our job is to attack positions or defend them", explains Serhii Filimonov, the battalion's current commander. "I have to admit, it wasn't the same as my missions with the Marines in Europe", laughs Nate. The veteran modestly recounts the trenches and the death, the mud and the blood. The comrades who fall, the enemies he kills. "There's no denying it. But there's not much to say. You compartmentalise your mind. You don't think about it", he says simply.
"Nate is an excellent fighter with remarkable composure", recalls Serhii Filimonov, the battalion's current commander. In his command centre near Pokrovsk, where his unit holds the southern flank of the city, the imposing young man, aged 30, tries to count the times he thought he would die alongside Nate Vance. "Fifteen times we should have died. Fifteen times we got away with it", he smiles. Serhii recalls the trench in the Bakhmut region in 2023, where the two men found themselves trapped for hours on end under the methodical shelling of Russian artillery. "This time, we said goodbye", he recalls.
Retired from the battlefield, Nate is now looking for a publisher to publish his war memoirs. "I hope to continue defending Ukraine in a different way, because it needs it", he says modestly. A lifelong Republican, he is now facing incomprehension from people with whom he has always agreed. Even within his own family. On Facebook, his mother, Donna, adopted JD Vance's vehemence towards Volodymyr Zelenky, going so far as to call him a ‘pretentious little shit’. From the arid roads of the American West that he now criss-crosses, Nate despairs of the latest developments in the conflict and the American U-turn. "Donald Trump and my cousin obviously think they can win over Vladimir Putin. They're wrong. The Russians are not about to forget our support for Ukraine. We are Vladimir Putin's useful idiots", he laments.