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“I do not compete with others, I fight only with myself”

OLEH OMELCHUK decided that he would be a soldier from childhood. He likes when everything is precise and in its place. He has always been passionate about sports. He has defended Ukraine since 2019. Through sports, he dreams of regaining his physical condition. He would like to try new types of sports because those he used to practice are no longer possible for him due to his health. 

About himself and military career. Since the 9th grade, I studied at a military-physical training lyceum in Kamianets. I had two options: a military school or a sports academy. I chose the military path because it had always interested me. I appreciate discipline, order, and when everything is in its proper place—neat, clean, and structured.

But as a child, I actually dreamed of becoming a chef. I loved cooking at home. My favorite dessert is Napoleon cake (vanilla bites), and I even know how to make it—especially the cream.

When big challenges or problems arise, I enjoy tackling them. What irritates me the most, however, are small, scattered tasks that demand attention all at once.

I get anxious if I don’t finish everything on time. Even when I complete all my tasks, I sometimes come home and keep replaying them in my head, making sure I haven’t forgotten anything instead of relaxing.

In combat, staying calm is essential, and I manage to do that because the focus is on solving large-scale problems. But in everyday life, I get stressed if I’m running late. My wife, on the other hand, tends to push things until the last moment. I always tell her that there is a precise “H-hour”—the exact time an operation must begin. If a tank is scheduled to roll out at 10:00, it won’t be at 9:59 or 10:01—only exactly at 10:00.

About sports in life. In school, I practiced target shooting, but my military lyceum didn’t offer it. Instead, I discovered CrossFit, arm wrestling, and military pentathlon.

My entire life has been in the army, but if I imagine myself as a civilian I’d probably start a rehabilitation business—not just for people with disabilities but for everyone, so no one feels excluded. It’s important that people understand what’s happening in the country and recognize that those with disabilities shouldn’t face unnecessary barriers.

After my injury, when I was still on crutches, I went to the gym and tried to keep training in arm wrestling. Some people asked what had happened to me, and when I briefly explained, they were surprised—saying that I, despite my injuries, was training while many able-bodied people lacked the motivation to do anything. A year later, I met those same guys again, and by then, I was walking. They were amazed. That’s why I believe civilians need to see and interact with veterans.

For me, competition is about achieving my best result—and then improving it even further. If I’m stagnant, it means I’m doing something wrong. I don’t compete with others to defeat them; I compete against myself. If I don’t improve, the only person responsible is me. My losses actually push me to train harder. I always analyze what went wrong and look for where I fell short. And if I take first place—that’s just a bonus, proof that I did everything right.

About my military service. I studied at the military lyceum until 2019, and after graduation, we were deployed to the Joint Forces Operation area.

I always prepare for the worst but hope for the best. That mindset applied to the war as well. Especially in the month leading up to the full-scale invasion, it became evident that something was about to happen.

Of course, I was worried about my family, but having a clear understanding of what to expect and how to act gave me a sense of calm. I was in command of a group, and we were prepared for any scenario.

Leading people is challenging. You have to find an approach for each individual, and if some don’t get along, it’s also your job to ensure they can work together without conflicts.

I believe the most important thing in war is assigning everyone a clear role and responsibility—whether it’s a mechanic, driver, or radio operator. Not everyone can be a fighter. A unit where everyone is a fighter might sound great, but without support roles, other essential functions are lost.

At the start of the full-scale invasion, we defended Kyiv. Then we briefly fought in the Zaporizhzhia direction, then Sumy, Kharkiv, back to Sumy, and eventually Bakhmut—right when the battles for it were just beginning. That’s where I was wounded.

I enjoyed serving in the Kharkiv region the most. We had an incredible commander there—Yevhen Mezhevikin, a Hero of Ukraine. He listened to everyone, and because of that, we operated like a well-coordinated team.

About the injury. Our mission was to check a section of the frontline. I was leading the group, walking ahead. As soon as I stepped out of the bushes, gunfire erupted. My weapon was hit immediately. I saw the flash, shouted “Contact!” and as I jumped for cover, a bullet struck my leg—just a millimeter away from the artery. I instinctively tried to get up but ended up worsening the injury, completely breaking my femur. My left leg went numb, as if it had shut down. Fortunately, no one else in the group was wounded. We got lucky—the terrain had a high embankment, and when I fell, the whole team managed to roll back to safety. They pulled me up and carried me out.

The weather worked in our favor—it was raining, and the thick vegetation helped us move quickly and stay concealed.

I couldn’t apply a tourniquet on myself—the wound was too high. I mentally counted down a minute, thinking, “If I’m still alive after this, I’ll make it.” In that time, I kept giving commands, directing the fire, and instructing the team on how to move me. I knew I was no longer useful in the fight, so I focused on doing what I could.

The guys wouldn’t let me fall asleep. The only thought running through my head was, Finally, I can sleep. I’m so exhausted. We made it to Bakhmut, where they stabilized me.

About rehabilitation. I was sent back to duty before I had fully completed my rehabilitation. The medical commission confirmed my injury as severe and referred me for further evaluation. But when I got to the disability assessment board, I ran into an issue that, unfortunately, many wounded soldiers face. They reviewed my case, flipped through their book, and told me: Your injury isn’t listed here, so everything is fine. You should actually be grateful—you still have your leg, even if it has a metal implant. It could’ve been worse. There’s nothing we can do for you. Come back when the war is over.

It’s frustrating how those who risk their health for the country are treated. Many of us have sacrificed our well-being for a free Ukraine, but according to official regulations, if you’re missing just a few centimeters less than the required amount for an amputation, you don’t qualify for state support. That’s exactly what happened to me.

At first, like most soldiers, I was eager to return to service. That feeling lasted for about a year. But I had to accept reality—I could no longer perform my duties the way I used to. I could barely walk properly, let alone carry an injured comrade to safety in an emergency.

Before the full-scale war, I had been leading my group for a year and a half. During the war, I commanded them for seven months. But after my injury, when I was out of service, few people reached out or checked in on me. Over time, I realized that my unit wasn’t as close-knit as I had thought, and I was no longer needed there. So I stopped trying to go back.

That was a tough realization. I strongly believe that the support of fellow soldiers plays a crucial role in recovery.

The biggest support came from my wife. She didn’t let me spiral into negative thoughts, limited my exposure to the news, and helped me find some peace.

About Recovery. About a month after my surgeries, returned to the gym. I focused on exercises that didn’t put stress on my leg—bench presses, seated workouts—anything that allowed me to train without standing on my injured limb.

When the national selection for the Invictus Games took place, I wanted to compete. But after arriving at the first training camp, I realized that the goal wasn’t just about winning. The real value was in the experience itself—the camaraderie, the shared passion for sports. Everyone there was on the same wavelength. It didn’t matter if you had two legs, one leg, or no legs at all—whether you were missing an arm or both. None of that defined us. We were simply there, in the moment, as equals and as teammates.

About dark humor. It’s a part of all our gatherings— it helps us cope. But even among fellow soldiers, I believe there’s a clear line that shouldn’t be crossed—especially if someone doesn’t joke about their own injury. Some might not be comfortable with that kind of humor, and their feelings should be respected. Even those who haven’t been injured should be mindful when joking about others’ wounds.

For civilians, it’s even more important to be mindful. They need to adjust to seeing wounded soldiers and understand that these injuries were sustained in battle—not from carelessness or bad luck. There’s a difference between losing a limb in combat and losing one in an accident at work. That difference should be acknowledged, and above all, respected.

About changes after the war. Over the past three years, the full-scale war has evolved—and so have I, especially after my injury. I’ve become more composed, more accepting of the fact that I no longer go on missions but contribute in other ways. For now, I’m at peace with it.

War has affected me both physically and mentally. Every night, I find myself back in battle in my dreams. They’re always bad, but I’ve gotten used to them.

In my mind, I’m still preparing for combat, always ready to take up arms, no matter where the enemy appears.

About personal goals. Before my injury, I was focused on performing well in CrossFit and arm wrestling. Now, that all feels secondary. My main priority is staying combat-ready—because the war isn’t over yet. Everything else can wait.

About the victory. We’ll talk about plans for victory when we’ve won.

Translated by Green Forest English School

 

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