Ukrainian Patriots Forged from American Metal
Discovering New Home in a War Zone
The drumbeats of war were growing ever louder and stronger as we passed through Christmas, New Year’s, marching toward the Lenten Fast. They beat and they beat, the enemy was at the gates. The US Department of State told us to get out as they fled from their embassy in Kyiv. We watched as other embassies in our neighborhood left which we witnessed as we walked our dogs, the Swedes and last, the Austrians. Next, the missiles fell, and the tanks rolled in. Artillery fire was constant with the random short bursts of small arms fire.
The smithy lit his fire, and something began to be forged. Hotter and hotter as it grew stronger with each blast of the enemy. A weapon within began to take shape made from American metal. Fear of death always lingered but did not rule. Steely resolve as the Ukrainians repelled an overwhelming enemy. Air raid sirens wailed, yet we went on. The ground reverberated with missile strikes. A constant boom of fighting not so far away. The weapon grew stronger, but it is one that, once forged, must be sharpened, and kept clean constantly. Battles sometimes come about, and it gets nicked but does not break.
Blue and yellow began to flow through our veins. If we were going to bleed, these are the colors that would pour forth from our wounds or death blows. We sang “Oh, the Red Viburnum in the Meadow” whether we knew the meaning of the words or not. We stood in the Cathedral of St. Volodymyr as the air raids continued and lit our candles, said our prayers, made our Confessions, took Communion, and bowed our heads to the icons and holy men that fed our spirits, kept our souls clean and ready for death. But death has not come. The weapon within stays powerful and strong. Our bodies, minds, souls all are wounded but strength, resolve, fortitude, perseverance, and faith drive us on.
The Battle of Kyiv was only the first test. We stood our ground then, along with so many others. We did not waiver, we did not falter, we did not run, and we never lost faith. Soon enough, that battle was over. Spring flowers gave way to the heat of summer. We went to banya, and barbecued on the Dnipro River as the sun warmed our bodies. Soon enough, the winds of Autumn came and so did the missile attacks. This time, we lost power and Internet. Our means of income was interrupted and we had to leave our beloved Kyiv but not our Ukraine. A long train ride to an unknown city where now we roam the streets and cafes.
Ah, my raven haired one, my Peace-Renown of Zakhar Berkut fame. How gorgeous she is with her sinewy arms, green eyes of her Ukrainian roots. Now I know from whence her strength and depth come from, her love of freedom and free-roaming nature. It is from deep within her blood that her Ukrainian rises, boils and does not turn away from a fight. My druzhina, my back-up in battle, my foxhole buddy and partner. We stayed because of her and because of the Marine buried deep within me. Our symbol now the trident, our flag now the blue sky and golden fields of wheat or sunflowers below.
We have been forged together as Ukrainians, her in spirit and blood, me in spirit. Our souls soar with every victory, our tears flow with every death, but we continue just like these brave Cossacks, Hutsuls, Crimeans and all the others. One day, maybe they will make us one of them. Will we have earned it? Could we have done more? These are questions that cannot be answered now. In our souls, we will be one with them and of them even if there is no paper that says it is so. Slava Ukraina! Our beloved new country. On to victory! And then, we will have a party unlike the planet earth has ever seen! We are Ukrainian Patriots forged from American metal by this war.
