Maiia Moskvych

Glib Stryzhko First of all, please tell us about yourself and your military service. When did you enlist? What was your military service like?

Maiia Moskvych I’m Maiia Moskvych, a senior police lieutenant and a senior soldier in the Armed Forces of Ukraine. I’m a veteran, I’ve defended Ukraine twice: first in 2014, when women weren’t officially allowed in the Armed Forces, so I served through the National Guard and the Ministry of Internal Affairs, and again in 2022. Each time lasted about two and a half years. Most recently, I served in an infantry unit. I remember thinking: God, just let me serve, even in the toughest unit! I ended up in the light infantry, separate rifle battalions. We were deployed to Lyman — that’s where we saw our first combat, our baptism by fire. Thank God, I made it out alive. After that, we spent most of our time on the Zaporizhzhia front. Later, I transferred. I started as a combat medic at the squad and platoon level, but after spinal surgery I couldn’t keep doing that kind of work, and my command took that into account. I was reassigned to the medical unit and became the battalion medic, taking care of all the sick and wounded for nearly a year.

Glib Stryzhko Weren’t in one of the volunteer battalions that was under the Ministry of Internal Affairs for some time? As an infantry soldier?

Maiia Moskvych Yes, just an infantry soldier. We were so pumped up. There was no equipment, but we had the coolest knives, boots, and camo. We arrived at our posts looking like astronauts. Like special forces. Meanwhile, the Armed Forces guys walk around in slippers and with machine guns. I was so jealous, because how good it must have been to be able to move like this! God heard my prayers, and the next time it was me who walked around in slippers. Under shellings. All kinds of special forces units came to us, or stopped by, all so pumped up. And there I was in my slippers with my machine gun, thinking, thank God!

Glib Stryzhko Has your motivation changed between 2014 and 2022? And why did you choose the regular army in 2022 rather than the police or the National Guard?

Maiia Moskvych It changed a lot. Before 2014, I was in the patriotic circles, NGOs, we knew there would be a war with Russia, and we were preparing for it. I have been preparing since I was 17. I was in good shape — physically, mentally, intellectually. I saw myself only in the best military units, intelligence or something. But then I ruined my health; I realized I no longer had the strength to carry a heavy rifle or walk long distances. So, basically, in 2022, my motivation was that it would be an honor just to join this fight, despite my health condition, because by then I already had a disability. This war is massive, and anyone who can, must defend our country. It was a matter of honor, of duty. I couldn’t have done it any other way, but I knew my capabilities. So I wanted to help, even just a little.

Glib Stryzhko Please tell me, what are you focused on these days? What brings you joy?

Maiia Moskvych Honestly, I’m very happy right now. Despite the war, I feel like I’m living my best life, truly. My biggest joy is finally pursuing my dream education: I’ve wanted to be a psychologist since childhood. I once tried to get into medical college, but it didn’t work out, so I studied accounting instead and became an activist. From 17 to 34, I was involved in different parts of Ukraine’s national liberation movement. I did many things, but all of it was for Ukraine — for it to remain Ukrainian. My life was good, but it wasn’t the dream life. And when I was about to leave the service, I realized… Service is always a turning point. So I decided to apply to the Ukrainian Catholic University, and I got in! It was fate. I quit the service and literally went from Pokrovsk to Lviv for the lectures, wearing my uniform. Being among thirty other psychologists felt like heaven to me, they are all so kind.

Glib Stryzhko You mentioned that you competed in both the Invictus Games and the Warrior Games, and that you did archery. Please tell me more about that. Have you been doing archery since you were a child? How did you even find out about the Invictus Games and the Warrior Games? How did you end up there? Because there are a lot of veterans now, but in previous years it was, as far as I can tell, a very niche thing.

Maiia Moskvych After my first discharge from service, I went through a very difficult period. Back then, I had this mindset: I’m special forces, I’m tough, it’s victory or death. I was very black-and-white, very radical in how I saw things. Until I was discharged for health reasons. It hit me hard. I felt broken, both mentally and physically. Everything I believed in seemed to fall apart, and I lost faith in myself, in everything. I even had suicidal thoughts. It was an extremely hard time. I was completely shattered for a while. It was hard to accept that my memory had gotten worse, that I couldn’t think the same way anymore. I kept forgetting things, getting angry at myself: like, what’s the point of this life if you set off somewhere and then suddenly think, where was I even going? It was awful. Then I was invited to take part in the Invictus Games, and I started training. That’s when I first picked up a bow, and somehow I clung to it like a lifeline. There was nothing else in my life at that point. And then I discovered archery, and I held on to it. I’m stubborn like that. Somehow, I made it onto the national team. I really wanted to win. I’ve always struggled with self-worth, so even then I secretly dreamed of it but didn’t believe I was capable or deserved it. And when I did win, it was this powerful moment: oh, I actually can! And then it really took off. I got deeply into archery and even started my own club. It was something I was truly good at, and it felt amazing. I had so many plans, dreams. I wanted to organize nationwide competitions for veterans. I was living for it. But then I lost my coach — my mentor, my teacher, Dmytro Sydoruk. He was killed in the war. In sports, there’s always a mentor and a student. He was mine. And when he died, it was like everything in archery went dark for me. I took it very hard. I still haven’t gone back to shooting. Every time I touch the bow, it all comes back. He meant so much to me, I really loved him. I wanted to keep learning from him. He was a master, and I was just at the beginning. He was the person I looked up to, the level I wanted to grow into.

Glib Stryzhko Do you remember who told you about the Invictus Games?

Maiia Moskvych Honestly, it’s not that I like being begged, but I often don’t believe in myself. My first instinct is to say, “No, I can’t do it”. I need someone to take me by the hand and pull me in. That someone was Taras Kovalyk. He told me about this program, different sports: cycling, swimming… but I couldn’t ride a bike, couldn’t swim, couldn’t lift weights because of my back. Basically, I couldn’t do any of them. The only thing I could realistically try was archery. Taras took me to a training session. I tried it and just kept showing up. It didn’t work at first, I got frustrated. But I had nothing else I could do. And somehow, little by little, it clicked — and I ended up winning.

Glib Stryzhko What or who keeps you going during the toughest times?

Maiia Moskvych I learned to find support in myself. During my first deployment, I had external support, but it all fell apart. I felt terrible. But for my second deployment, I came in with a different mindset — trying to rebuild myself, find a new inner core. This time, I leaned most on faith. I’ve always been a Christian, but here I truly believed: everything in the world can change, people can die, anything can fall apart, but God is constant. So I chose that as my anchor. Maybe it was a bit cunning of me, but it’s a very reliable kind of support. I tested it in war. I went in with that new core, and whenever things got hard, I looked inward and held on to that faith. And it held. It didn’t break. The first time, everything I relied on, family, friends, love, even ideals like Ukraine, at some point gave way. But this time, it worked.

Glib Stryzhko I believe in God, too. It’s something deeply personal to me. Didn’t you ever experience a crisis of faith because you didn’t understand why this was happening?

Maiia Moskvych Yes. During my first deployment, I went through a deep crisis: personal, ideological, even a crisis of faith. I started doubting everything, questioning it all, and eventually it all kind of fell apart. By the second time, I came prepared, grounded in faith — and that held. I knew that I needed civilian friends. Once a week, I had a call with a civilian girlfriend. My mom, my boyfriend, they’ve been a massive support. Stability is important. Always having someone to talk to is important. It was a hard time, and my people helped me through it. I was scared that my grandmother would die before I could see her one last time. I couldn’t get a time off, and she was already on her death bed. She brought me up, so I wanted to resign and see her. And I did! She is still alive. I’m happy that I saw her.

Glib Stryzhko Are there places you like to revisit in your mind because they bring you joy?

Maiia Moskvych Ukraine. I was abroad some days ago, and it felt so different. In my mind, I was going back to Ukraine. Under the shelling, under Shahed drones, but home. Despite all of that, I felt good there. I really wanted to go back. And when I’m in Ukraine, I always go back to the village, to my cat. I brought him from war. And I’m proud of that; it’s probably my greatest achievement, the best thing I’ve done in my life during the war — I rescued a cat from under shelling, and he’s living happily now. I love him very much. He’s in the country, with my mom and grandma. I always go back to home in my thoughts, pet and hug him. I’m happy.

Glib Stryzhko What’s his name?

Maiia Moskvych Sirko, because he’s grey (name derived from the adj. siryi, meaning grey, – ed. note) He’s such a sweet cat, he’s settled right in in the village. We have a strong work ethic in our family. If you don’t work, you don’t even have the right to eat. Everyone has to do something, even animals. At first, they were like, “Oh, so you brought a freeloader!” And then Sirko went out and caught a mole. Moles are a real problem for us. So after he did that, they all said: “Look at him being the boss!” So now, everyone is calling him the boss. Everyone is serving him now, because he’s the boss. He goes to sleep, and then goes hunting again. He’s well respected.

Glib Stryzhko Do you remember a moment at work when you burst out laughing?

Maiia Moskvych Hard to say, but it happened quite a lot. Probably the first time it was after Lyman. It was our first combat. God, it was scary! We were scared shitless, but we made our alive. And this moment, when you come out alive, and everyone else did too, it’s a feeling I can’t even explain, it’s pure euphoria. We laughed a lot, because one of our groups… They were two days late returning from Lyman, but then they came out and told us how they’d crossed the Siverskyi Donets, and how they’d been looking for a boat while wearing body armor — it was really funny.

Glib Stryzhko In the next question, I’d like to talk in more detail about what helped you stay grounded during rotations and combat. Can you describe what it was like during your first deployment and how it’s been since then?

Maiia Moskvych It’s hard for me to recall the first deployment clearly. I think I was very emotionally charged, almost ideologically so. I was thinking in abstract terms about serving Ukraine and the nation, and it felt somewhat detached from me personally. The second deployment started almost lightly, with jokes and laughter. But after more than two years of service, especially with front line rotations for 10–17 months straight, the constant work eventually wore us down. I stopped feeling like a human being, I was just functioning mechanically. There was no joy left; I don’t even know what could have brought it back. I do remember one thing that did: when my archery students sent me packages and letters. I would open them and just cry. It was both joy and overwhelming emotion at once. It felt like being on a space station, receiving a letter from home after years of isolation, something deeply familiar and warm reaching you across an impossible distance. Or once, my mom sent me a letter with chrysanthemum flowers inside. I opened it, there were words, and there were these little flowers, still fresh. I read and cried. This was one of the most wonderful moments. I later sent them to an artisan who encased the chrysanthemums in epoxy resin. I always carried them with me during the war, and they gave me comfort.

Glib Stryzhko It seems to me that the feeling of happiness, and what brings happiness, also changes and evolves. Have you noticed how that feeling has changed for you? Has it changed at all?

Maiia Moskvych I believe I was lucky in the sense that most of my comrades are alive. I think the hardest thing that can take away the sense of joy is the loss of a loved one; there is no place for joy in a moment like this. It may sound cynical, but those people who died at the beginning… we didn’t get to know each other closely, to become friends. We knew each other’s names, at most. With the others, we became close, and we survived. It’s a miracle: our light infantry platoon of about 30 people, from the very first moment we gathered in Lutsk at the military recruitment office, somehow, over two and a half years of war, we all survived, including 17 months on the front line. It’s astonishing, and it’s something that still allows me to feel joy. I also believe that it will get worse. In fact, I’m sure of it. And then even more worse. The further, the worse. So, today is better than tomorrow. Russians want to break our spirit. But if we survive and keep our state, even to some extent, that will be our victory. Everyone of us who works, pays taxes, buys coffee, is part of this life. As long as our economy lives on, as long as we do something, we win. We need to keep living, earn money, spend money.

Glib Stryzhko Do you consider joy to be a manifestation of strength?

Maiia Moskvych I think joy is something greater than strength. It’s a reflection of something eternal. Strength doesn’t quite compare to joy. But when you can feel joy, even in these terrible times, it’s like you’re touching eternity. Joy can take many forms. I’m talking about the kind of joy where, even in the darkest times, you can still feel it – hugging someone you love, like your child. Seeing something… like your cat. Doing your little job. But even in times when you can find joy, it’s more powerful, because it’s harder. But it’s also okay, if you can’t. Some things can take it away, like the death of a family member.

Glib Stryzhko Next question, following up on the previous one. When was the last time you felt joy in a place you least expected?

Maiia Moskvych This is also a difficult question. I think it was during a trip to the Ukraine Recovery Conference in Rome. I tend to be quite skeptical about such events. For me, action matters more than talking, so I didn’t expect much from it. But when I got there, I actually felt a sense of joy. I saw Europe becoming more engaged: people were energized, genuinely interested in Ukraine, thinking about security. It gave me a feeling of hope. I realized that this is, in a way, their “love language.” I used to think talking doesn’t mean much unless it turns into action. But for Europeans, communication itself is action, it’s how they express care and commitment. When they speak, applaud, or react, it carries energy and meaning for them. And I understood that if we want to connect with them, we also need to speak that language. Our language is action, theirs is words, but both matter. For the first time, I really saw the power of dialogue, even if it’s not my natural way of doing things.

Glib Stryzhko If you were asked to define “joy in war,” what would you say?

Maiia Moskvych That’s when you survive and your dear friend survives too. And the enemy is defeated.

Glib Stryzhko What does joy smell like to you?

Maiia Moskvych Joy has many smells for me. The smell of my cat, for example. It’s very specific, but I love him so much. He smells a bit like grass, because he walks through fields and weeds all the time, like a wild cat. The smell of flowers is always a joy. The smell of good food. The smell of that cool Ukrainian air, slightly colder than in Europe, and somehow cleaner. And that scent of clean air…

Glib Stryzhko Okay, and one last question. What is joy like? Describe it in colors, shapes, and every detail. How would you paint it?

Maiia Moskvych My joy is full of pink, blue, yellow, and white. Colors like that, or flowers in these colors. And cats, and birds, and me, and my friends. But everything is in those same colors. The colors of joy. Lots of white. It’s so bright.

Glib Stryzhko Does it have a specific shape? Or is it more about the colors?

Maiia Moskvych I imagine something like paradise from the magazine Awake!, where heaven is shown as a place where everyone is happy — animals, children, people. When I think of happiness, I somehow feel it’s on the other side. This is where I will see my comrades who were killed. And there’s this strange, complete sense of joy, as if those who are gone are still present, and we can joke with them, meet them, tell them how things turned out. So many people have died, but I can’t fully accept that they’re gone. It still feels like they exist somewhere. It’s like another dimension where we meet again, laugh, talk… God, I’ve collected so many jokes over my life. I will come prepared, with a whole notebook of jokes, about each of them, teasing them properly.

Glib Stryzhko It was my final question, but I would like to get back to your trip to Australia really quickly. It’s an entirely different world, live kangaroos. How was it?

Maiia Moskvych Thanks for asking! I have trouble remembering, so some memories are fragmented. But it was in Australia that I caught joy, because in Australia, joy is the vibe. What’s different about Australia compared to us is the atmosphere. Here we’re holding on, fighting, thinking about survival, money… In Australia it’s just… chill and joy. Everything there feels infused with it, every person seems to radiate this sense of happiness. You arrive, and you’re surrounded by it. You absorb it, and it stays with you. That’s where I first really experienced that kind of joy. And when I came back, I still had some of it with me. Back then it was easier to feel it, there wasn’t a full-scale war yet. Now it’s harder to feel another country, because there’s always this inner tension: you’re enjoying life here, while we’re fighting at home. But that trip was different. There were so many bright flowers, parrots flying everywhere! I love parrots, I even dream of having one someday. Australia is like the Land of Wonders. I was very impressed. The trees are colorful, the birds are colorful. People are happy. The trees are so huge, they’re just magical. The ocean, the wind. To be honest, everything there is just a little bit magical. It was a huge inspiration to me, and I still carry that Australian joy in me.