“He always put his soldiers first”: the story of a mortar battery commander killed at 22
Volodymyr Lobodiuk was 21 when he graduated from the National Ground Forces Academy in Lviv and joined the 128th Separate Mountain Assault Zakarpattia Brigade. Lobodiuk, still a very young officer, was always there at the firing positions. He managed to secure modern US-made weapons for his unit.
He was universally loved and respected, even as he commanded people more than twice his age. Lobodiuk was killed in close combat with Wagner Group mercenaries. He was just 22.
The short story of his life is a story about how the war is claiming the lives of the nation's finest people.
Advertisement:"Firing mortar bombs at a tank is a matter of luck. We hit two enemy tanks"
Volodymyr's brothers-in-arms remember him as a cheerful and optimistic person, though his life hadn't always been easy. His parents divorced and both started new families when he was still little, so Volodymyr was raised by his grandparents.
He lived with his relatives in the village of Korshiv, not far from the city of Kolomyia at the foot of the Carpathian mountains, until he started ninth grade (aged 14). After his grandfather's death, he enrolled at a military and sports college. He graduated with distinction from the National Ground Forces Academy in Lviv and joined the 128th Separate Mountain Assault Zakarpattia Brigade.
Volodymyr was a good student and was granted the right to choose where he would serve. He decided to join the mountain assault forces. He served as a senior officer in an artillery unit in the Joint Forces Operation area for a few months. [The Joint Forces Operation, or JFO, is a term used from 2018 to identify combat actions in parts of Donetsk and Luhansk oblasts against Russian military forces and pro-Russian separatists - ed.] Soon after the beginning of the full-scale war, he headed a mortar battery in a mountain assault battalion that was engaged in battles with Russian forces advancing on the Zaporizhzhia front.
Senior Lieutenant Volodymyr Lobodiuk served for only a year and a half after graduating from the National Ground Forces Academy
"Our unit first fought under Volodymyr Lobodiuk's command near Orikhiv," says Senior Sergeant Bohdan Hota, platoon commander in the mortar battery. "An enemy column - two tanks and several armoured personnel carriers (APCs) and KAMAZ trucks - came out of the woods and attacked an infantry platoon that only had one mortar.
The reinforced [Russian] company was advancing in a march formation, not a combat formation, and was some 1.5 kilometres away. The Russians didn't know we were there, so we were able to stop them even though we were outnumbered. The infantry personnel destroyed one APC with a Javelin, and we deployed the mortar to destroy the KAMAZ.
The truck was carrying ammunition that continued to explode for two hours after it was hit. The rest of the column quickly turned around and fled. On the battlefield, we found the bodies of two Russians who'd been killed in action and their documents.
Turned out they were from Dagestan." Several days later, the mortar battery neutralised another Russian column which was about to assault Ukrainian infantry positions. They destroyed a Russian T-72 tank.
Mortars are typically used to target infantry, machine guns, dugouts, pillboxes, and mortar crews. Firing mortar bombs at heavy equipment, especially tanks, is a matter of luck. A 120-mm mortar bomb weighs almost 16 kilograms and causes a powerful explosion when it hits its targets from a 3.5-kilometre height.
But tanks are heavily armoured and can only be damaged or destroyed if a mortar bomb hits the stern or the turret, where the armour is thinner. "When we'd repelled the assault and the enemy column had already stopped and was starting to turn back, Volodymyr ordered us to launch another three mortar bombs," Bohdan says. "One of them hit the T-72's turret. The tank's ammunition immediately detonated, the turret was blown away, the bottom was punctured.
We saw this from a drone - it was a spectacular sight. Around the same time, one of our mortar bombs also destroyed an enemy MT-LB (an amphibious tracked armoured fighting vehicle) which was carrying ammunition and 12 infantrymen. The ammunition exploded, killing all of the infantrymen."
As a promising battery commander, Volodymyr was spotted by his superiors. He and a couple of soldiers under his command were sent to train in Germany to learn how to operate US-made M120 120-mm mortars. The instructors taught the Ukrainian soldiers by the book, whereas Volodymyr tried to take his experience into account.
He knew how best to choose positions, how to position and camouflage a mortar, and how many mortars to deploy at once. "Our commander could've taught the Americans a lot himself," Bohdan believes. "We explained to the instructors how we use the sun and the stars to navigate. They were particularly impressed when we showed them our Kropyva (software that enables the coordination of multiple units in one area).
Volodymyr said during these exercises: 'I've never regretted a thing, but now I regret that we weren't taught English better at the academy.'" After the exercises, the mortar battery and other mountain assault units were deployed to Kherson Oblast, where they engaged in difficult assault operations to liberate occupied territories. In some areas the mortar battery was the assault units' only support (since the artillery was being deployed on other fronts), but it was so effective that after it fired on Russian positions, there was nothing left for the infantry to do but take the injured Russian soldiers prisoner.
Sometimes when Russian forces were fleeing in panic after a Ukrainian breakthrough, the mortar crews would get ahead of the infantry - their pickup trucks were faster than infantry fighting vehicles. Volodymyr's brothers-in-arms recall that he was always in the hottest spots, despite the danger. "At one point, the Russians spotted our vehicle and launched a pack of Grad rockets - fortunately, they weren't well-aimed," says Ivan Roman, the battery's Head Sergeant. "We hid the vehicle in some bushes, put our armoured vests on, took up our guns and went to reconnoitre the area by foot; [we had to walk for] 15 kilometres.
Eventually we reached the positions of our territorial defence units - they assured us that the positions ahead of us were held by our infantry. In reality, they were held by the Russians. There we were, courageously walking around some 1.5 kilometres away from the enemy, considering where best to position our mortars.
They saw us and launched a pack of Grads; several rockets hit very close to us. It's as if we got a second chance at life there." The mortar battery under Volodymyr's command hit another Russian tank in Kherson Oblast - a T-90, which the Russians used to call the best tank in the world before the war in Ukraine.
The tank was hiding in ambush; it fired to stop the 128th Brigade's assault units. Volodymyr used a drone to determine the tank's position and fired on it from several mortars at once. One of the mortar bombs damaged the tank.
It stopped firing, allowing the Ukrainian infantry to continue their assault.
The battery commander (front left) and his brothers-in-arms
"Mortars fire from far away, while the infantry marches on ahead of everyone else"
During a short rotation away from the front, Volodymyr's unit was visited by military top brass from Kyiv. During exercises, a general noticed the young officer who was expertly operating the mortars - Volodymyr - and asked what he needed. Volodymyr asked for modern mortars.
Soon afterwards, his battery received a shipment of new American M120 120-mm mortars. "The technical specifications are similar to those of Ukrainian Molot mortars, but they're better," Bohdan Hota says. "You don't have to dig them in because the strong recoil after the first shot firmly fixes the mortar in place. At night, the American mortars don't produce a flash, so they're very difficult to detect.
Each bomb is packaged separately, so they're clean when they reach positions, not dirty or damp." As an additional perk, each mortar came with a Humvee off-road vehicle and a trailer with a hydraulic lift. Of course the trailers weren't very effective in our conditions - they're difficult to manoeuvre in areas that are often rigged with mines.
So the Ukrainians unhitched the trailers, and they load the M120s into the Humvees with their bare hands before setting out to their fighting positions. Mortar crews cover the infantry from the back; their commanders deploy drones to adjust their fire from several kilometres behind. This is what typically happens during combat.
Contrary to this practice, Volodymyr didn't adjust fire from behind his crews; he was always in front of his mortars, at infantry strongpoints. You can see the full picture of the battle more clearly on the ground, but you have to pay for that with your own safety. "He saw the enormous losses in the assault units and he always told us: 'We're firing from far away, but they march to their deaths ahead of everyone else'," says Hennadii Kobal, deputy commander of the mortar battery. "He did everything he could to keep losses to a minimum, he felt his responsibility - mortar support can make a real difference in combat."
Volodymyr had a lot of respect for the infantry - that's why he was always with them on the front line. But he also really loved his unit. He cared about their living conditions and food, and he made sure the guys could take showers, wash their uniforms, and access "civilisation" - places where the postal service was working.
These little things mean a lot [at the front], and the guys appreciated them and really loved their commander. His was an exemplary battery, thanks to his efforts. "He also had a good sense of humour," Ivan Roman adds. "Once, during our time away from the front, he accidentally came across several soldiers who were drinking.
He ordered the rule-breaking to be documented, then told the senior officer: 'Good job for telling me where you were drinking!' The soldiers fell for it - they nearly killed the 'traitor' on the spot. Another time there was a stray puppy the commander named Klapan. Everyone really loved that dog; we used to feed him.
Once when we were driving back from our position Volodymyr said: 'Our Klapan's been killed, he got run over.' He spent the rest of the journey back reminiscing about what a good dog Klapan had been. I was on the verge of tears. When we got back, the dog was right there, alive and well!
The commander was laughing." "He often used to joke about death," Ivan continues. "He'd come back from a combat engagement dog-tired, lie down to rest and say: 'If someone calls me, tell them I'm 200.' Or: 'If I get 200 during the battle, you're next in command. If you're 200 it's the senior sergeant.' Jokes like this aren't common in the army." ["Cargo 200" is the military identifier for transportation of dead bodies from the battlefield; "200" is colloquially often used to mean "dead" - ed.]
"One mortar bomb hit a cluster of enemy forces, killing 15 Wagner Group mercenaries at once"
In December 2022, the mountain assault unit and the mortar battery were deployed in the defence of Bakhmut.
Soldiers from the unit recall that time as the worst horror of their lives. Russian soldiers were being mown down by the dozen, yet new assault units kept advancing, surrounded by the bodies of their dead brothers-in-arms. "In winter there was mud everywhere, everything was getting clogged up with mud, weapons and equipment were failing - meanwhile, the Russians kept advancing, no matter how many of them died," Bohdan recalls. "We mostly fired on the enemy infantry there.
During one battle, we killed 64 Russians with an American mortar, 15 of them with one mortar bomb. We hit a cluster of infantry troops, but there were so many of them. Sometimes our infantry would be forced to retreat, with the company commander crouched at the command and observation post, and Wagnerites would already be all over his former positions.
Our guys would be walking past us as they retreated and we'd keep launching mortar bombs. We mostly fired at random, but we still managed to stop [the Russian forces]. Once we repelled six Wagner assaults in one day.
This happened near Vesele, just outside of Soledar. We still hold the village." Volodymyr made many trips to help adjust mortar fire; he was the best mortar operator, so JFO units often asked for his help.
Back then, 82-mm mortars were positioned in line with the infantry, while the 120-mm ones were positioned 800 metres behind - the forward observer would always end up at the very front. Volodymyr never spared himself. He slept two or three hours a day at most, and he was exhausted.
"We slept in rows, in a basement," Bohdan says. "Everyone could see how tired our commander was, so we agreed that while he would still go and carry out the forward observer duties that morning, I'd go the next morning so that he could get some proper sleep. Volodymyr came back from the combat engagement in the evening and went straight to a meeting; he didn't get back until late at night. JFO soldiers arrived at five in the morning and woke him up.
They could see how tired he was too, so they suggested he stay there and get some rest instead of going with them. But he said he'd go." Volodymyr's favourite uniform was MultiCam [a type of camouflage - ed.] - he thought it brought him luck.
That morning, however, he changed into a different uniform and asked us to take his MultiCam one to a base behind the front line and get it washed. He gave all of his documents and credit cards to his deputy, though he'd never done that before. He made a characteristic joke: "If some s***heads get my cards, make sure they don't get any credit."
He wasn't preparing to die. He had plans for his future: he really wanted to get some rest and said he'd be going on holiday right after he got out of Bakhmut. There were a lot of young guys in his battery, and he'd promised to party at all their weddings.
But that wasn't meant to be. On 16 December, Volodymyr was adjusting the mortar fire from frontline infantry strongpoints. He spotted from drone footage that a Wagner assault group was approaching them from behind.
A short-range firefight ensued, and Volodymyr used his gun to kill three Wagner mercenaries; the assault was repelled. But the first assault group was followed by a second one that was better armed and better equipped. A Wagner Group tactic: first use cannon fodder and only then deploy professional fighters.
Volodymyr and his brothers-in-arms repelled this second assault, but Volodymyr was killed by a burst of machine-gun fire. "Later, when the soldiers had recovered from the shock of their commander's death, we studied that battle," Bohdan recalls. "We think Volodymyr's sense of danger could have been dulled by chronic sleep deprivation and fatigue and he let his guard down. If only he could have got a bit of rest, he would've been more careful, and maybe he would've survived.
But he always gave his all." Volodymyr's death came as a shock not only to his mortar battery, but also to the infantry he had been working with. Infantrymen know best how important reliable mortar cover is - they experience it firsthand.
Volodymyr and his brothers-in-arms in front of a Russian military vehicle they captured, in Kherson Oblast
"It's so strange here: the shops are open, people are sitting in cafes.
As if there's no war"
Of all his relatives, the ones Volodymyr was most often in contact with during the war were his aunt Oksana and her daughter Hanna, his cousin. He was Hanna's child's godfather. "We talked almost every day," Oksana says. "Sometimes my nephew would text a few times a day or warn that he might not be in touch for a while.
He was very chatty, and he told me a lot about himself and his brothers-in-arms. He always thought about them above anything else, he was honest and fair. Early on in the war Volodia [short for Volodymyr - ed.] went through several very dangerous situations.
Once a projectile went off near him and the blast wave knocked him off his feet; he suffered severe concussion. A metal fence nearby was peppered with fragments of the projectile, but he was miraculously unscathed." Volodymyr received no treatment or rehabilitation after suffering concussion, even though his hands were so numb he couldn't even start a car.
His relatives found him a neurologist who gave consultations online. Another time, a drone dropped explosives on the vehicle Volodymyr was in. A soldier walking ahead was killed, but Volodymyr and another three soldiers survived.
His relatives think that he might have become less vigilant after these incidents: he believed death would always pass him by. He was very young and full of energy. He'd often boast: "It's all in God's hands - if I'm meant to live, I'll live."
"We live in a village, and I tried to help as much as I could; I used to send him parcels," Oksana continues. "He said that he had enough food and only asked for something sweet. During the first few months of the war, everyone in our village chipped in to buy a car for Volodia. Someone drove it to Zaporizhzhia, and my nephew managed to travel there from the front.
He called me and said: 'It's so strange here: the shops are open, there's music playing, people are sitting in cafes. As if there's no war.'" Volodymyr's relatives asked him to take leave several times in early December; he hadn't had any time off since 2021.
They could see how tired he was. But Volodymyr said that if he went on holiday, someone else would take up his position - "an inexperienced officer who'd be more likely to get killed. Meanwhile, I know every bush in the area." He never did take leave in the end.
"The last time we spoke was on 15 December," Oksana recalls. "St Nicholas' day was approaching [celebrated in Ukraine on 19 December - ed.] and Volodia sent a present for his grandma to my address. She's been living in her summer kitchen since she had a stroke - it's warmer there. [Volodia] sent her a new, modern TV, with instructions on how to properly install it. The present arrived on the afternoon of 16 December.
Volodia was already dead... I only dreamt about him once. He was very thin and was wearing a white T-shirt that I'd never seen him wear.
He came up to me and I gave him a hug. In the back of my mind I knew he was dead, but I still asked him: 'Volodia, why are you so thin? I did ask you if you had enough to eat.' He replied: 'That doesn't matter, Auntie.
The most important thing is that you do what I asked you to do.' I think he meant the TV. We were all in shock after Volodia's death, and there were a lot of power cuts - the TV was the last thing on our minds. But we installed it after all, honouring his final wish."
Yaroslav Halas, officer from the 128th Separate Mountain Assault Zakarpattia Brigade, for Ukrainska Pravda Zhyttia (Life) Photos: Volodymyr Lobodiuk's brothers-in-arms Translation: Olya Loza
Editing: Teresa Pearce