[CZE] Děkujeme, díky vašim příspěvkům posíláme drony, které jsme vyrobili za peníze z poslední sbírky, kamarádům antiautoritářům na frontu. A pokračujeme, další novinky přijdou brzy.
[ENG] Thank you. Thanks to your donations in the last successful fundraiser, we are shipping the drones we made to our friends, anti-authoritarian fighters on the front lines. We keep on working, more news coming soon.

[CZE] 🎮💸🖤 Je to tu! Další možnost přispět na drony pro antiautoritářské bojovníky a bojovnice proti ruské invazi. Sdílejte, šiřte, díky!

[ENG] 🎮💸🖤 Here it comes! Another chance to contribute for drones for anti-authoritarians fighting against Russian invasion. Share, spread, thanks!

https://donio.cz/drony-solidarity-3

🇬🇧“Solidarity Collectives” continue supporting new fighters — meet Dmytro, an activist from Zhytomyr, a self-taught architect, and an anarcho-communist who recently joined the army.

“In general, I wanted to join from the very beginning, but I was really scared. I tried to overcome my fear — and joined on the second attempt.
The first time I just chickened out during recruitment — I said: ‘Sorry, goodbye, not interested.’ But then, at the end of this summer, I started seriously thinking again, because the only thing stopping me was fear. I never had those thoughts like ‘I don’t want to go because…’ followed by some of those silly excuses. And it’s not about politicians’ kids or anything — just fear.

So I had a beer, wrote to my future commander: ‘I’m really scared, but I want to join.’ We talked. I’m a self-taught architect, and my direct commander happens to be an architect too — though we probably won’t talk much about architecture, since it’s an artillery brigade. Still, it’s nice to work with people who speak your language.

I had a few options — building defensive lines, piloting drones — but I decided to go into artillery.
Previously, I only did my mandatory service in a pontoon-bridge brigade as a firefighter, back in 2016–2018. In our platoon we actually put out two fires. Once, the paint shop in our unit burned down; another time, a nearby barrack caught fire — the one where contract soldiers lived, those who get housing from the army. Apart from that, nothing special — marching drills, straightening corners on the blankets. We had these blue blankets with white lines, and we had to align everything along those lines — that kind of army madness.
But even that kind of service helped me as a man who grew up without a father. Of course, it was a real pain in the ass, but it showed me that I can handle more than I think.

Not all instructors here have combat experience, but we got a real combat scout. He teaches us not from books, but tells us what actually matters — what to bring, how much, and why. And the commander, he’s kind of a ‘military type,’ but a really good person, an exemplary officer for greeting newcomers.

It’s a bit hard to maintain a long-distance relationship with my girlfriend, but we agreed on it and she supports me.
In the first year of the war, in summer, one of the Solidarity Collectives’ members hosted me. That’s how I met Finbar (Cafferkey), and I realized — being among leftists is another thing. Earlier, I worked with guys on developing my hometown Zhytomyr, but they weren’t leftists, just urban activists. We did projects, applied for grants, did tons of work — and kept getting rejections.

I guess my leftist views helped me take this responsibility — gave me the understanding of why this fight matters, why society has to resist. Because if I thought only about myself, I probably would’ve fled Ukraine in the first months of the war. Working in Lviv, it was easy — you could just grab a backpack and go; hardly anyone was being stopped. But I didn’t see myself doing that.

Now I’ll have an interesting and meaningful position. I still see myself as a civilian who joined to do a job — because someone has to do it.”