"It's sad of course when it happens to friends you share a life with in the trenches.
"But at the same time it motivates you even more to remove these bastards that nobody wants here," he says
Asked if he thinks about death, he replies: "Of course, I think regularly that it's maybe my last cup of tea or the last time I go to bed."
KILOMETRE BY KILOMETRE
Outside the trench, the countryside stretches out in a landscape that would be magnificent except for the vast scorched fields.
Unexploded ordinance lies on the roads, which are pockmarked with craters and lined with burnt out vehicles.
Some rare military vehicles can be seen. A T-72 tank kicks up a cloud of stones and dust as it turns.
A few kilometres back, the brigade's headquarters are set up in an abandoned farm.
Chickens wander through the ruins, a cat sleeps on an abandoned chair and bees fly out from their untended hives.
A Tochka-U missile lies in the courtyard.
At the bottom of a small staircase, the officer in charge is at work in a 15-square-metre room full of maps and radios to communicate with the positions.
Three men lie in the darkness of the room, staring at their phones absent-mindedly.
Oleksandr, the officer, a jovial man of 34, says the situation is "under control".
"We have been here since the end of April and, after several attempts by the enemy to advance, we are the ones advancing, kilometre by kilometre."
The aim? "Total victory". Asked if he could envisage a ceasefire, he replies: "No, no, no".
