Volodymyr “Kipish”: From Captivity to Senior Communications Officer in the 18th Army Corps

After escaping captivity and making his way back to territory controlled by Ukraine, Volodymyr returned to military service

Volodymyr, call sign “Kipish,” remembers the morning of February 24, 2022, with absolute clarity. Kherson. He was 21. Around 5 a.m., explosions from the direction of Chornobaivka Airport jolted him awake — the strikes had begun as early as 4:30. He lived roughly four kilometers away as the crow flies, so the blasts were not distant rumblings; they were immediate, visceral. It felt as though the war had stepped straight into his home.

He had followed the news and knew a full-scale invasion was possible. But when “possible” becomes real, the first minutes are not about panic. They are about decisions.

At around seven that morning, Volodymyr put his mother on the last scheduled bus to Ternopil. “Last” — a word that would echo in his mind long afterward. Once she was gone, he called a friend from his military training program. No lengthy discussion was needed. They met and went directly to the enlistment office. That same day, Volodymyr was mobilized through the city military commissariat and joined the 124th Separate Territorial Defense Brigade.

While the city was still trying to comprehend the scale of the invasion, events across the Kherson region were unfolding at speed. Around ten a.m., Russian forces entered Nova Kakhovka and demonstratively raised their flag over the Nova Kakhovka Hydroelectric Power Plant. By approximately eleven, Russian airborne troops had landed by helicopter near the Antonivskyi Bridge, Antonivka, and Sadove, seeking to cut key routes and crush Ukrainian defenses on the approaches to Kherson.

It was there, near the Antonivskyi Bridge, that Volodymyr found himself in the first days of the invasion. Together with fighters from the 124th Territorial Defense Brigade, as well as units of the 59th Motorized Infantry Brigade and the 80th Air Assault Brigade, Ukrainian forces pushed back the Russian airborne troops and held positions beneath the bridge. That defensive line created a narrow but vital window, allowing Ukrainian units to fight their way out of encirclement under relentless strikes and shelling.

Russian aviation operated overhead. Air attacks intensified the pressure, and it was felt every minute. When the sky belongs to the enemy, the ground grows heavier beneath your feet.

That same day, Russian forces were seizing towns and critical infrastructure across the region: Henichesk, Skadovsk, Kakhovka, Nova Kakhovka, Tavriisk, the Kakhovka Hydroelectric Power Plant, and the North Crimean Canal. The ring was tightening.

On February 25, fighting around the Antonivskyi Bridge continued, but the enemy ultimately secured control of it. For the defenders, the reality was stark: they lacked sufficient personnel, heavy weaponry, and time. Withdrawal became necessary — not out of unwillingness to stand, but to preserve lives and retain the capacity to continue the fight. Kherson held its breath, bracing for the assault everyone knew was coming.

The assault began on March 1. Russian forces advanced from the airport toward Mykolaiv Highway. Military vehicles rolled in; by evening, tanks and armored personnel carriers had entered the city, entrenching themselves at multiple locations. Street battles erupted. That day, in Lilac Park on Naftovykiv Street, around 30 Territorial Defense fighters, armed mostly with light weapons, were killed attempting to stop a Russian column. On the morning of March 2, local authorities announced that the city was fully encircled.

After the fighting and the effective occupation of Kherson, many defenders dispersed, preparing for partisan resistance. Volodymyr did the same. But in the occupied city, he was captured. The Russians quickly understood he was an officer. Interrogations followed, along with psychological pressure and efforts to break his will. He recalls electric shocks, beatings, shots fired near his head, and coercion to collaborate. The most insidious weapon was isolation. Deprivation of information becomes a kind of hunger — and the captors exploited it: “Kyiv has already fallen.” “It’s over.”

What sustained him was simple, iron logic. Through a slightly opened window, he could hear Ukrainian artillery firing from the direction of Mykolaiv. “If Mykolaiv is holding, then Kyiv certainly is,” he told himself — and he clung to that belief. To keep from losing himself, he quietly sang Ukrainian patriotic songs and the national anthem — an inner anchor, proof that he was alive and unbroken.

Eventually, Volodymyr escaped captivity — and later managed to break free from the occupied territory altogether. The first thing he did upon reaching Ukrainian-controlled land was re-enlist.

He went on to serve as deputy company commander for moral and psychological support, later as deputy commander of a military unit in the same field. He served in the 9th Army Corps and the 12th Army Corps within a group responsible for organizing information influence operations. Over time, he moved through different phases of the war — participating in the Zaporizhzhia counteroffensive, working within the defense of Avdiivka, and serving on the Pokrovsk axis. Different types of combat. Different tempos. Different costs. Yet one constant remained: the resilience of the people and the need to defend not only positions, but morale, meaning, and the connection between a unit and the country it serves.

Alongside his military duties, a skill from his civilian life stayed with him — and gradually became his second specialty in wartime. Before his service, Volodymyr had worked systematically in visual and digital communications: creating graphics, filming and editing video, building social media presence not as random posts but as coherent systems — with identity, structure, analytics, growth logic, and discipline. He understood how to package stories so they would be read and watched: concise, precise, emotionally resonant — yet never artificial.

Over time, this foundation expanded to include technical tools: developing websites and landing pages for recruitment and institutional branding, configuring SMM campaigns, applying SEO so key stories could be discovered in search, automating routine processes through bots — from collecting applications to routing inquiries — and integrating digital marketing with strategic storytelling. On the communications front, these capabilities are a force multiplier. Where the enemy operates at scale and with brazen manipulation, an effective response must be professional, rapid, and grounded in truth — with the right emphasis, visuals, rhythm, and facts.

Today, Volodymyr “Kipish” serves as a senior officer in the Communications Department of the 18th Army Corps. His front line runs through content and camera, through words and images that safeguard truth. Because war is not fought by weapons alone. It is also fought through narrative — through who tells the world what Ukraine stands for, and why it will prevail.

Oleksii Lemeshenko