KYIV, UKRAINE — A Colombian man in his twenties dreams of owning a farm in his hometown of Medellín but he must first survive the Russia-Ukraine war.
He’s a soldier fighting for Ukraine.
“Of course I want to return to Colombia, but the point is to do something so I can live more peacefully there,” says the young man who requested anonymity to protect his identity.
He is currently in Ukraine’s capital, Kyiv, undergoing surgeries to restore his left leg after being severely wounded in an attack by Russian soldiers on the eastern front in the Donbas region.
For security reasons, the Ukrainian military does not disclose the number of foreign fighters defending against Russia’s aggression. Some Colombian and international media outlets estimate the figure could be as high as 2,000 Colombians serving on Ukraine’s front lines.
READ MORE: Cuba sends thousands of its people to fight for Russia in war with Ukraine, say Ukrainian officials
Born and raised in Medellín, the young man speaks softly in Spanish, his paisa accent clear, as he sits on a bench outside the hospital where he’s being treated. The exterior is busy: mostly men in wheelchairs, amputees, smoking cigarettes, talking and passing the time.
He chooses a nearby park to talk about his life as a foreign soldier on the front lines of a war and his decision to fight for a country thousands of miles from family and friends.
The space is quiet and empty, shaded by large trees, with crows cawing in the background. His crutches lie beside him, his injured leg stretched out before him, an external fixator screwed through the skin into the bone as the healing process continues.
It was nearly a year ago, he says, when a 7.62-caliber bullet tore into his leg during a Russian attack on the front lines, leaving a wound of 10 by 5 centimeters wide. To repair it, he’s undergoing procedures that encourage new bone growth. Because he is young, his tissue and bones can regenerate and he’s fortunate enough to keep his leg. Over time he says, he’s gotten used to the intense pain.
Once a heavy smoker, the young man laughs when recalling the moment where he promised God he would never touch another cigarette. “‘Diosito, I won’t smoke another cigarette in my life. Please let me keep my leg. I don’t want to lose it,'” he recalled.
“I haven’t smoked since.”
Fighting abroad
Originally he wanted to join France’s International Legion, but after injuring himself while working at Colombia’s National Penitentiary and Prison Institute (INPEC), he realized the rigorous acceptance process would keep him out of this prestigious military unit.
He decided to head to Ukraine at the end of September 2024, two and a half years after Russian President Vladimir Putin’s full-scale invasion on Feb. 24, 2022, which ignited Europe’s largest conflict since World War II. Despite recent peace efforts by U.S. and European leaders, an end to the fighting remains uncertain.
“It is a roulette wheel here, a roulette of luck. On the front you aren’t a normal person. Your animal instinct comes out.”Colombian soldier fighting for Ukraine.
Growing up in an “olla,” a rough neighborhood where drugs and sicarios constantly lurk, he says adrenaline has always been inside him.
“When I arrived in Ukraine I said, ‘I’m not leaving without going to the front no matter what.’” After finishing his training, he was sent there, facing experiences he never imagined that could determine whether his dream of having his farm survived.
“It is a roulette wheel here, a roulette of luck,” he says. “On the front you aren’t a normal person. Your animal instinct comes out and thank God I got used to it quickly.”
During one of his deployments to the front lines, Russian drones located his team’s position and dropped a thermobaric bomb incinerating everything, he says. The team retreated — but five days later, he, another Colombian, and a Ukrainian soldier were ordered to return and reclaim it.
A subsequent attack killed the other Colombian, sent the Ukrainian fleeing, and left him with the blast that injured his leg. Adrenaline surged through him, and he initially felt no pain, he says, only a hot sensation.
“Boiling hot.”
Convinced of his death
He relied on a friendly drone that delivered water, a thermal blanket, and medication, while his unit guided him from a distance to the extraction point. Artillery struck as he tried to crawl toward his team, the excruciating pain finally creeping in and slowing him down. At one point he lay still and prayed, keeping his mouth open as the shockwaves reverberated on the ground. He was convinced he was dead.
“I started to think about my family. ‘Tomorrow they’re going to call them and tell them I’m dead.’ How f***ed up right? I calmed down and got as comfortable as I could and I told God, ‘Yes. I want to sleep.’ I didn’t want to feel so much pain.”
Suffering massive blood loss, he says he passed out until he heard the "VROOM!" from a quad bike arriving to extract him to safety. Determined to survive, he clung to the rack on the back of the bike with dear life, his injured leg flailing everywhere like a ragdoll as the incoming fire continued until they were out of danger.
“When they gave me the morphine, the placebo effect kicked in and I started screaming, ‘Oh God! God saved me!” he laughs as he reminisces. “They were like, ‘What happened to this kid? He’s almost dead and he’s screaming.’ I kept saying in English, ‘Oh God, for God!’”
He called his sister to tell her, “God saved me.”
The experience left him with lasting trauma. Nightmares of dragging himself across the ground, pursued by enemies trying to kill him return if he misses his medication. He says that day changed the way he sees the world today.
“I thought I wouldn’t make it through that day. I already felt dead,” he says. “It changes you. Being there among the dead. It is like a living hell.”
A hell many don’t fully grasp, stepping into a foreign conflict like this one, with little more than expectation, only to discover a brutal war far beyond anything they’ve ever experienced.
In a virtual interview, Ukrainian Rifle Battalion Commander, Bohdan Korzhenko, said the Colombian soldiers in his units did not always meet expectations. From December to January, he had around 200 Colombian fighters. Months later, few remained.
“The main role is to be a soldier, to be an infantry soldier, to be on the front lines, to sit in trenches,” he says. “Sit in trenches, carry out assaults, defend… We have Colombians now in our battalion. We also have Colombians in different battalions of our brigade but a big part of them want to finish their contracts.”
“The main problem was they weren’t prepared for this kind of work,” he says. “They don’t understand and you try to explain to them what is going on, but their expectations were different from reality.”
“They were not ready,” he adds.
Commanding Spanish-speaking soldiers
Sergeant Major Guadaña, who asked to be referenced only by his alias, is a well-spoken Colombian man with a deep, radio host-like voice, neatly cut hair and a dark beard. He speaks from his room, still wearing his army fatigues.
In charge of a Spanish-speaking company composed mostly of Colombians, he works with soldiers from Spain, Brazil, Argentina and Peru. What started as a group of 20 has now grown to roughly 130 soldiers, fighting on the eastern front in the Kharkiv region.
“There are people who weren’t born to be doctors, who weren’t born to be lawyers. We were born to bear arms, to defend freedom, perhaps to safeguard democracy."Sargeant Major Guadaña
“This here is family,” Guadaña says of his brigade and company. “We all come from far away, with many dreams, so we help each other achieve them.”
In addition to being in charge of the Spanish-speaking company, Guadaña commands the assault group responsible for recovering lost territory, a task he enjoys.
He says his men have earned the respect and support of their Ukrainian counterparts. “Their work has been quite extensive,” he says. “Thanks to everything they’ve taught us, we’ve worked together and are liberating our front.
“We must have the vision and mentality to understand that it isn’t just coming here to perform normal service like in our country.”
“We are not volunteers,” he adds. “We were willing to come and support this country. But when we decide to sign a contract, we abide by the laws and regulations of the country.”
Born to be a soldier
For Guadaña, wearing a soldier’s uniform was always something he loved.
“There are people who weren’t born to be doctors, who weren’t born to be lawyers. We were born to bear arms, to defend freedom, perhaps to safeguard democracy,” he says. “So we’re seeing an injustice here, and if the country gives us the opportunity to do what we love, why not come and help this cause?”
Foreign fighters in Ukraine earn the same monthly pay as other soldiers, but deployment to certain positions can bring additional bonuses, Guadaña says. Some months he can earn nearly $5,000 with “war combat bonuses” for fighting on the front lines, what the military calls line one, the most exposed position closest to enemy forces.
“When I am on the battlefield in line one, and if I last 30 days there, I earn an extra bonus,” he says, though those economic rewards mean life or death.
“Obviously, one is very exposed. There are a lot of people who perhaps don’t even manage to collect their salary… We’re at war, and anything goes here.”
More than 1,500 foreign mercenaries from 48 countries have been recruited to fight for Russia against Ukraine, according to IStories, an independent investigative media outlet founded in Russia.
Separately, Ukrainian intelligence officials told Congress in September that the Cuban government is sending thousands of Cuban mercenaries to Russia, making the communist island nation one of the largest foreign sources of troops for the Kremlin. Some Colombians have reportedly fought for Russia as well. The young soldier interviewed for this story said that on the front lines, his unit could hear threats yelled in Spanish on the other side, complete with the Colombian accent.
Guadaña says that just signing a contract with Russia would pay around $10,000, but he chose to fight for Ukraine. “If it were just the money, I imagine we’d all be there [on the Russian side],” he says. “I’m doing something good. I’m on the side of the good guys.”
Guadaña chose to fight in Ukraine because he was struggling to make ends meet and felt unfulfilled after retiring from the Colombian military following 12 years of service.
He tried civilian life in Colombia. He drove a taxi, but the wages were low and the work never felt right. He just wanted financial stability.
At his mother’s urging, he studied nursing and later worked in an ambulance, yet still felt out of place. Then in 2022, a friend and fellow soldier convinced him to travel to France to undergo selection for the international Legion.
“I decided I was going to pursue what my country suddenly denied me,” he says, referring to opportunities that were out of reach by Colombia’s many hurdles and turmoil. “So I said, ‘I'm going to keep chasing my dream, keep being a soldier, and I’m going to France.’”
Like others, the idea of joining the prestigious French Foreign Legion offered an opportunity. When he didn’t get accepted, he discovered via TikTok Ukraine’s International Legion of Territorial Defense and its call for foreign fighters.
Guadaña found his place in the Ukrainian military, where he was quickly promoted, progress he says took him more than a decade to achieve in Colombia. His journey mirrors that of younger foreign soldiers, who came to Ukraine chasing dreams, stability and a chance to challenge themselves in ways difficult to achieve back home.
Foreign fighters sign three-year contracts but Guadaña says most soldiers leave around the six-month mark. “[They say] ‘I’ve completed six months, saved a little money, lived the experience, bye,’” Guadaña says.
When he reached six months and was asked what was his “vision for the future,” Guadaña told his Ukrainian commanders he wanted to be an officer.
“If you allow me those three years or more, great, I’ll either make you tired of me and get kicked out, or I’ll be here with you the whole time,” he told the commanders.
On the front lines, Guadaña has been injured multiple times. His first combat experience left him with shrapnel wounds from a drone explosion nearby, requiring reconstructive surgery. He later suffered a groin injury, and subsequently took impacts from mortar fire and drone grenades, so severe he nearly lost a leg.
"Every time I have to go to the front I feel fear, and it’s nice to feel fear because I think fear keeps me alive,” he says.
This reporting was supported by the International Women’s Media Foundation’s Women on the Ground: Reporting from Ukraine’s Unseen Frontlines Initiative in partnership with the Howard G. Buffett Foundation.
Nastassia Kantorowicz Torres, Olha Konovalova and Dzvinka Pinchuk contributed to this report.
