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There was no medicine, so this Ukrainian nurse sang lullabies to wounded soldiers

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Scott Peterson/Getty Images/海角大神
Ukrainian senior nurse Oksana Sokhan waits to treat wounded soldiers at a medical stabilization point near the southern war front in Zaporizhzhia oblast, Ukraine, Feb. 22, 2024.

From all her years of caring for wounded soldiers, the Ukrainian nurse recounts one transcendent moment of comfort she provided early in this war that she says she鈥檒l never forget 鈥 and that made all the difference.

Not long after Russia鈥檚 February 2022 invasion of Ukraine, Oksana Sokhan found herself in an evacuation minibus, wedged between two stricken soldiers in the dark, as the vehicle tried to safely get away from the front line.

The wounded men were agitated and anxious, disoriented and determined to get up and move. Ms. Sokhan had no sedatives 鈥 but she had within her the key to calming them.

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Among their many duties, nurses are relied upon to comfort, to soothe. Amid the stresses of Ukraine鈥檚 war, as she deals with wounded soldiers, Oksana Sokhan recalls a moment鈥檚 resourcefulness that still makes her smile.

She began singing Ukrainian lullabies to the wounded fighters, and stroking them as a mother would.

Their anxiety eased. If she stopped the soothing singing for a moment, she saw their anxiety surge again.

鈥淚 was surprised myself that it worked 鈥撀爏urely it worked on a subconscious level for both of them,鈥 recalls the nurse, who wears an amused smile, purple medical scrubs, and a dog tag on a chain.

She tells her story during a lull in treating combat wounded at a makeshift surgical center 鈥 called a 鈥渟tabilization point鈥 鈥 near Ukraine鈥檚 southern front line, south of Zaporizhzhia.

鈥淚 didn鈥檛 know what else to do; we didn鈥檛 have any medicine,鈥 says the nurse. She carries herself with the confidence of someone playing a constant critical role 鈥 without fanfare, like everyone else in this medical unit 鈥 helping to save the lives of thousands wounded in Ukraine鈥檚 war.

Ms. Sokhan still laughs about that moment of serendipitous support with the lullabies in the minibus, and about how 鈥 after they had all arrived safely at the hospital 鈥 a nurse came out to report that one of the men was convinced his mother had been with him during the evacuation.

鈥淚n my real life, I am not singing,鈥 Ms. Sokhan says, smiling wryly. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 have a voice.鈥

鈥淲e all live for one day鈥

Ms. Sokhan may be just one senior nurse, but she is emblematic of the legions of Ukrainian military medics devoted to preserving the lives of the country鈥檚 outnumbered forces.

For years a member of the 128th Separate Transcarpathian Mountain Assault Brigade, she has seen a whirlwind of casualties at different points along the front line since Russia鈥檚 all-out invasion.

Scott Peterson/Getty Images/海角大神
Ukrainian senior nurse Oksana Sokhan works in a treatment room near the southern front in Zaporizhzhia oblast, Ukraine, Feb. 22, 2024.

Ukraine鈥檚 liberation of Kherson in September 2022, for example, and the monthslong grinding fight for Bakhmut late last year pushed Ms. Sokhan and her colleagues to the limit. During both campaigns, the medical teams regularly saw 100 casualties come through their doors daily. From Bakhmut, the nurse describes an 鈥渆ndless flow,鈥 with surges as high as 150 a day.

鈥淓veryone here, we all live for one day. If we survive today, it鈥檚 good,鈥 she says. 鈥淚鈥檝e learned not to not build plans.鈥

Ms. Sokhan never expected to be a front-line nurse in Russia鈥檚 war, either. Originally from Ukraine鈥檚 eastern region of Luhansk 鈥 which traditionally has had some pro-Russian sentiment, and was fully, if unilaterally, annexed by Russia in September 2022 鈥 she was a decade ago at the opposite end of the country, in the far west, taking care of people at a sprawling resort.

When Russian troops invaded Ukrainian Crimea in 2014, she recounts, her daughter and son-in-law, who were on the peninsula to 鈥渓ive close to the sea,鈥 called her in alarm. They told her the Russians had issued an ultimatum: Take Russian passports and denounce Ukraine, or leave.

鈥溾楾here was nothing to decide; we鈥檙e coming back to Ukraine,鈥欌 Ms. Sokhan recalls her daughter telling her. They moved back to their hometown of Lysychansk, but within a month, Russian and pro-Russian proxies were there, too, seizing control.

The family had to walk more than 4 miles, with a 4-year-old and all the belongings they could carry, before fleeing west.

鈥淚 got very angry,鈥 recalls Ms. Sokhan. 鈥淚 quit that job and went to the military office to sign up for the army.鈥

After overcoming initial hesitation by the Ukrainian army about accepting a native of Luhansk, Ms. Sokhan entered the military, and has been on every combat rotation for nearly a decade.

The most difficult thing?

鈥淣ot to see your dear ones, not to see your family,鈥 says Ms. Sokhan. She was shocked by how much her now 15-year-old granddaughter had grown, after seeing her for the first time in two years.

鈥淲hen I was leaving, I had to bow to kiss her. Now she has to bow to kiss me,鈥 Ms. Sokhan says with a laugh.

鈥淔riends, not just colleagues鈥

The camaraderie wrought by difficult shared experiences keeps the unit together, the medics say.

鈥淲e don鈥檛 see if it is day or night; we are working all the time,鈥 says surgeon Anton Yakovenko, noting that the Bakhmut fight produced a heavy flow of casualties every day, for months.

Scott Peterson/Getty Images/海角大神
Ukrainian surgeon Anton Yakovenko stands in a treatment room, as medics of the 128th Separate Transcarpathian Mountain Assault Brigade wait for casualties, in Zaporizhzhia oblast, Ukraine, Feb. 22, 2024.

鈥淲e are really like friends, not just colleagues,鈥 he says. 鈥淲e use some humor; we eat together; we speak about our families. It helps to have these great people around me.鈥

鈥淭he main challenge is that we get tired of everything,鈥 says unit leader Oleh Bihari. 鈥淲e鈥檙e tired of being tired; there is no end in sight.鈥

Indeed, the trajectory of the conflict has weighed on these medics, as it has on soldiers up and down the 600-mile-long front. Optimism of swift Ukrainian advances that accompanied significant gains in late 2022 were erased by a failed counteroffensive in 2023.

That has been followed by a subsequent shift, today, to defense only 鈥 with American military support remaining tied up in Congress.

For her part, Ms. Sokhan focuses on doing what she can to contribute to the well-being of Ukraine鈥檚 wounded soldiers.

鈥淲e want to save everyone,鈥 she says. 鈥淥f course, it鈥檚 very important to see the results of your work, because when they come here鈥 the soldiers are traumatized, in pain, 鈥渁nd when they leave ... they are already waving sometimes.鈥

She has also been impressed by the singular devotion to continue the fight, which she herself exemplifies.

鈥淲hat鈥檚 uplifting and inspiring are our guys, people who come here wounded, who are cold and hungry and dirty,鈥 says Ms. Sokhan. 鈥淏ut all they say is, 鈥楧oc, quickly get me fixed up; I鈥檝e got to get back to my guys.鈥

鈥淗ow could this not inspire you?鈥

Oleksandr Naselenko supported reporting for this story.

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