Under Fire, Yet Unbroken: Ukrainian Soldiers Mark New Year's 2026

It’s hard to imagine, isn't it? As many of us were perhaps raising a glass of something bubbly, watching fireworks paint the sky, or just enjoying a quiet moment with loved ones, thousands of Ukrainian soldiers were ringing in 2026 in an entirely different world. For them, New Year's Eve wasn't about lavish parties or grand celebrations; it was about survival, camaraderie, and a profound, often poignant, sense of hope amidst the unyielding drumbeat of war.

Down in the embattled Donetsk and Zaporizhzhia regions, mere kilometers from the front lines, the 93rd Mechanized Brigade, the 47th, and the 82nd Separate Air Assault Brigade were doing their best to observe the transition into a new year. Forget champagne flutes; their toasts were made with Coca-Cola, perhaps a bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling wine if they were lucky, alongside instant noodles, some sausages, and, if generosity allowed, a few mandarins. It’s a stark picture, isn’t it, of just how much their reality diverges from ours?

One soldier, Serhiy from the 47th Brigade, described their 'celebration' as simply sitting together, having a bite. "That's it, nothing more," he shared, his words carrying the weight of countless nights under pressure. He then gestured towards a monitor, displaying not celebratory countdowns, but a live feed of the battlefield – the ever-present war on a screen, mirroring the one outside their makeshift shelters. It's a surreal double vision, isn't it? The digital landscape of conflict superimposed on their physical struggle.

Valeriy, with the 82nd Separate Air Assault Brigade, spoke of the constant threat, the enemy's unyielding pressure. He expressed a simple, yet powerful, wish for 2026: "The main thing is victory, so that all our people return home." His sentiment, I think, resonates with every single person serving, and indeed, every Ukrainian. This isn't just about their individual safety; it's about the very soul of their nation.

The silence, or rather, the lack of traditional festive noise, must have been deafening in its own way. There were no grand fireworks displays lighting up the night sky; instead, flashes of artillery fire served as a grim reminder of their perilous existence. The soundtrack wasn't joyous music, but the distant rumble of explosions and the unsettling whir of drones. Yet, in these moments, the human spirit, I'm always amazed, finds ways to shine through.

These soldiers, separated from their families and the familiar comforts of home, carry an immense burden. Imagine the psychological toll of knowing your loved ones are celebrating in peace, while you are literally under fire. They check in, of course, through video calls, seeing glimpses of normal life — children unwrapping presents, families sharing a meal. These moments, brief as they are, must be both a source of comfort and a profound longing. They are fighting not just for territory, but for the very possibility of a future where such simple joys are again universally available to their people.

As Viktor, from the 93rd Mechanized Brigade, put it so succinctly, "Peace, and everyone to return home." It's a sentiment that transcends the simple turning of a calendar page. It’s a deep, burning desire for an end to the conflict, for reconciliation, for the quiet normalcy that so many of us take for granted. So, while their New Year's toast might have been humble, the resolve and courage behind it were anything but. It serves as a powerful reminder of the ongoing struggle and the unwavering spirit of those defending their homeland.