I’m a man, but I won’t take part in a war

Around April 2022, I’d already had my first thoughts about leaving the service. My mom — she’s categorically against the war, she went to protests — said: “What if they send you too? Would you go and kill people?” I said: “No, of course not.”

In July, a telegram came from the main personnel directorate: platoon commanders were to go with the volunteers to the town of Mulino (Nizhny Novgorod Oblast — SP) for combat training, and then to Kherson.

I told my superiors I wouldn’t go. The head of the academy — I was on decent terms with him — called me in and said: “Are you a man or not?” I said: “I’m a man, but I won’t participate in this.” I said I wanted to resign. He responded: “You’ll have problems in the service.” For a month after that, I kept showing up for duty. During that time, they could give me an official reprimand for allegedly having the wrong haircut or wearing my uniform incorrectly. They could humiliate me in front of the personnel. I said this couldn’t continue.

To make it possible for me to leave, Mom and I sold my apartment — to pay the financial compensation to the Ministry of Defense. On August 2, I submitted a resignation report. People from the academy kept writing and calling me. They said I was behaving improperly, that other officers were doing twice the work because of me. They threatened that all of this was criminally punishable.

I’d come in once every 10 days so they wouldn’t open a criminal case against me. Because being absent for more than 10 days is a serious disciplinary offense.

Then they convened an attestation commission, and all the members voted for my dismissal. The head of the personnel department gave me a reference. It was terrible: supposedly I was irresponsible, couldn’t work with personnel.

The academy has telephone operators who receive telegrams through a special fax machine. On September 20, one of them wrote to me at night: “The reply came — the paperwork for your dismissal.” I thought: “Wonderful, they’ve finally dismissed me.” But the next morning, calls started coming from the command ordering me to report for duty. I said: “On what basis?” — “You haven’t been dismissed.”

When mobilization started on September 21, they began calling: “Come to duty — there’s a 90% chance you’ll go fight together with the mobilized.” I lied: “Fine, give me two days to prepare and I’ll come.” Mom and I started thinking about what to do next, because I don’t have a foreign passport. We decided to go to Kazakhstan. At that point, they hadn’t yet opened a criminal case against me, and I hadn’t been declared wanted.

Apparently they were wiretapping me or reading my messages, because the day before my departure, people from the academy started writing to me. They’d received information that I intended to leave the territory of the Russian Federation. They wrote: “This will be criminally punishable — come back.” I removed my SIM card and left. Mom and I went together, and for cover, my younger sister, my aunt, and the dog came along. As if the whole family was traveling — so there’d be no extra questions at the border. On September 23, we crossed the border without problems.

On October 6, a criminal case was opened against me for desertion under Article 337, Part 3 of the Criminal Code of the Russian Federation (“Unauthorized abandonment of a unit or place of service” — SP). Part 3 stipulates that under conditions of martial law and mobilization, I face up to seven years of imprisonment.

On October 26, I was placed on the federal wanted list. I found out because we decided to test our luck. We submitted an application for a foreign passport through the government services portal, and it was denied because I’m on the federal wanted list. At that point, I was still in a relationship. When I left, people from the academy came to her apartment. I don’t know how they learned her address and name. They asked where I was and whether we were in contact. Shortly after, we broke up. Who needs this — dating and building a future with someone who has a criminal case and is facing prison.

I stayed in Kazakhstan, and Mom went back to Russia because my sister has school. The police started calling Mom, summoning her for interrogation. Mom said: “Article 51 of the Constitution (No one is obligated to testify against themselves, their spouse, or close relatives — SP) — sorry, I don’t know anything.” She hired a lawyer, and he told her not to go to any interrogation without an official summons.

My father is a retired MVD lieutenant colonel. I don’t communicate with him; he doesn’t support my position. But when everything happened, Mom talked to him. The Investigative Committee called him and told him to come in for questioning. During the interrogation, the investigator told my father: “Right now I’m busy with the mobilized — I don’t have time for him, but I’ll get to him. I’ve compiled a thick file on him, and he faces up to 15 years of imprisonment.” He said I was the only officer-deserter in our entire federal district.

At the same time, the investigator said: “Let’s make up a story for your son — that he fell in love with some Kazakh girl and left not because he didn’t want to go to war, but for love, out of stupidity. Let him come back, and we’ll close the case.” I don’t believe that offer.

All the lawyers say my federal wanted status could change to an interstate one. Meaning they’d be searching for me across CIS countries. If Russia requests it, I’d be extradited. What to do next — I don’t know. I try to keep a low profile, I write to human rights organizations, but so far nobody can help with anything.

At the end of March 2023, I tried to fly to Yerevan — I was detained at the airport. But they eventually let me go. Although the investigator said Russia is flooding Kazakhstan with letters to have me declared wanted on Kazakh territory.

I’ve thought about the option of going to prison. I figure if I return to Russia, they’ll either try to hush everything up and conceal my departure. But I don’t really believe that. Or they’ll make an example of me with the maximum sentence, so others wouldn’t dare.

But I don’t want to abandon my principles. I didn’t leave because I was afraid of being killed in war — I left because I simply don’t want to participate in this.