Glory To The Heroes

Growing up in Ukraine, I loved listening to my Gma. Her stories about World War II sounded so eventful. She was a teenager when the war started, but her memory held it all: explosions, hiding in a ditch with each air raid, and always being scared for her life. When German soldiers walked through their houses, picking up healthy girls for labor and taking people’s cows for food, she was hiding in fear.

“I was too young,” she told me, but her voice trembled, and her eyes looked wet.

“What happened next, Grandma?” I asked.

“Then there was winter, cold and famished…” my grandmother answered, breathing heavily.

Being a teenager myself, I perceived Gma’s stories as my history lessons. It felt as if those events were so ancient; for sure, they would never be repeated. My confidence in a new and peaceful world was so strong. Unfortunately, my confidence and I were wrong.

Decades later, while sipping my hot cocoa during a cold evening, I scroll through the news. Ukraine. Another day filled with drone attacks, hitting buildings, and destroying more infrastructure. It is February, and this winter has been brutal, especially in Ukraine. Fifteen below zero during the day, and even colder at night. No heat. Electricity availability is limited to only a few hours a day, mostly two hours out of twenty-four, with voltage instability. I rush to check my phone, waiting for replies from my friends and family who live there. Their replies mean they are alive, and their phones are somewhat charged.

Since the beginning of the war, we have always said, “Glory to Ukraine! Glory to the Heroes!” It is a national salute to honor soldiers and support patriotism. But I believe this winter proved something extraordinary: every Ukrainian citizen deserves the honor of being called a Hero. At first, it was resilience. Those who never left the country were willing to adapt. They learned to hide from the continuous attacks and dealt with loud air raids, always hoping that the next explosion would not land in a civilian area.

However, in the past few months, their resilience has had to turn into survival mode. Daily life became a battlefield not only against drones but also against very cold weather. The necessities, things we usually take for granted, such as heat, light, and running water, have been taken away from Ukrainians. While the media rarely mentions the “infrastructure crisis in Ukraine,” and we feel indifferent when reading the news, Ukrainians have been living it. Washing hair and taking a shower became a privilege. A hot meal? Maybe once a day, if… Warm pajamas were replaced with thick coats that are not taken off for days. Mental distress became physical distress. A state of shock that changed personal priorities. It is a state where the mind cannot think about anything but survival. Despite the suffering, Ukrainians continue with their lives; they go to work, help each other, and even make humor out of all of this.

My brother texted me, saying that to preserve body heat, he and his wife stayed in bed all day, hugging each other tightly, covered by many blankets. I felt like I was listening to my grandmother’s stories from the 1940s. Is it really 2026?

A good friend of mine shared a picture of his windows frozen on the inside. About an inch of ice. Inside the window. What do I say? I know there are no words that could help warm up his room. Despite the misery, he helps outdoor kitties. Animals are struggling greatly as well. And those who survive do so only because of wonderful humans like him.

While my friend is helping cats, others go to the river to help the ducks. Due to the extreme cold, the river is frozen, and the ducks are confused. So warmhearted citizens cut through the ice and bring some food to help the birds survive the winter. Then they walk home and make a fire for themselves. If there is wood available, a fire means a hot meal.

After a cold day, there is another night. Headphones and earplugs to help with the sound of air raids. The sound they have been hearing for the last four years, something they will never get used to.

Another friend of mine, another story. A psychologist by degree, he has put in so many hours helping war survivors with trauma. But this winter is different. “Psychotherapy is not needed for people who are on the edge of destruction,” he said. As a professional, he provides words of support. As a friend, a sister, and a daughter, I often do not know what to say. So, I listen.

They keep their coats on. They keep each other warm. They make a fire and share a meal. They cut ice for the ducks and feed stray cats. They go to sleep and do it again the next day.

Perhaps that is the real meaning of being a hero.