Belarusian Conscription Soldier

Illustrative photo

Legal qualification:

Article 25(3)(c) of the Rome Statute: Aiding and abetting in the commission of war crimes by a person acting under orders.

Contextual crime: Logistical and medical support of an act of aggression and the resulting war crimes.

D.K., a 19-year-old from a village near Vitebsk, was drafted into a mechanized brigade in the Homyel Region. He had six months left until demobilization. In January 2022, their unit was put on high alert. The “Union Resolve” exercises began. Their lives turned into chaos. Thousands of Russian soldiers arrived at their base.

“We were told immediately,” D.K. said in an anonymous interview after completing his service, “that the Russians were our ‘elder brothers,’ that we had to do whatever they asked. Our brigade commander fawned over them. We conscripts were used as labor. We cleaned their barracks, brought them fuel, unloaded ammunition.”

Russian contract soldiers behaved arrogantly, calling Belarusians “bulbashi” and looking down on them. “They were sure they’d ‘take Kyiv in three days,’” D.K. recalled. “They bragged they were going to ‘beat the Nazis.’”

On the night of 24 February, D.K. was on duty at the checkpoint. “At two in the morning the engines roared. An endless column began moving — tanks, IFVs, Grad launchers. All marked with ‘V’ and ‘O’. They passed through our gates toward the Ukrainian border, which was 30 kilometers away. Our Belarusian officer stood there saluting them. I felt terrified.”

His unit did not cross the border. They had another role. D.K. was a fuel truck driver. His job was to drive to the “neutral strip” or the border zone and refuel Russian tanks, which consumed fuel at an incredible rate.

“I didn’t shoot,” D.K. says bitterly. “But I refueled those who did. I saw them return for refueling. Angry, filthy. One tank crewman, as young as me, smoked while his trembling hands showed me a video on his phone. ‘Look how we… smashed their checkpoint.’ And I realized that in the tank’s fuel tank was my diesel. Belarusian diesel that I had filled an hour earlier.”

A week later their battalion was repurposed. They were sent to a field camp near Narowlya, which became a medical sorting point. “Ural trucks and helicopters brought in wounded Russians. We were ordered to help. I pulled them out — without arms, without legs, burned. They screamed in pain. They were being taken to our Belarusian hospitals — in Mazyr and Homyel.”

But the worst began at the end of March, when the Russians retreated from Kyiv. “They moved past us like a dirty, shattered river. Their equipment was all mixed up. And on their armor… they carried loot. Washing machines tied to tank turrets. Plasma TVs. Carpets. Microwaves. They traded it to us for cigarettes. One officer offered my warrant officer gold jewelry ‘straight from a Khokhlushka’s ears.’ My warrant officer took it.”

D.K. says his entire brigade was involved. Officers in aiding and abetting and looting. Conscripts in forced servicing.

“I couldn’t refuse,” he says. “Every day the political officer told us the country was in a ‘state close to wartime.’ That refusal meant a tribunal. For ‘treason against the state.’ They simply made us accomplices. I still have photos on my phone… I don’t know what to do with them. If they find them — I’ll get 15 years. And if I show them — will it prove I didn’t want this? I’m just a 19-year-old kid who ended up in the wrong place. But I refueled the tanks that went to kill.”

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