Vladimir Putin claims conscripts aren’t fighting in the war, but they go missing in Kursk region in droves. Mediazona interviews their relatives

Ukraine’s offensive in the Kursk region revealed that many defending Russian border guards were conscripts, not professional or even mobilised soldiers, some of whom were captured or wounded.

Authorities haven’t confirmed conscript deaths, but 22-year-old Artem Dobrodumsky was reported killed just before his birthday—his karate coach told the Rostov publication 161.ru, “All that is known today is that he was serving his conscription and died near Kursk.”

By August 14, iStories identified 29 missing conscripts, while Astra put the total at 42. The Washington Post reported over 250 conscripts from the Kursk region went through a transit prison in Ukraine.

Conscripts from the 488th Motorised rifle regiment remain deployed in Kursk region, with commanders refusing to pull them back, Agentstvo reports.

Chechen commander Apti Alaudinov confirmed conscripts’ presence. Reports about conscripts from nine regions have already surfaced, alleging that they face deployment to Kursk, some immediately after taking their oath. Evidence from Moscow, Kaliningrad, and Western intelligence confirms conscripts’ transfer.

“I say, ‘Where is my child?’ They say, ‘We don’t know.’ ” Valentina Ovchinnikova, mother of a 19-year-old conscript from the Ivanovo region

Valentina Ovchinnikova’s son Sasha, 19, who has heart issues and a limp, was sent to the Kursk region in May after training. Sasha was serving in the 488th Guards Motorised rifle regiment, then was deployed to Sudzha—the town now under control of the Ukrainian army.

On August 2, he said [on the phone] that they had begun to be shelled. I asked, ‘Have you been evacuated?’ He said, ‘No, we’re staying.’ He was speaking very quietly. And then on August 5, he sent me an SMS with a code word—we had a code word with him, in case of danger. He wrote, ‘How are you, mom?’ And he added the code word. And then at 3:46 p.m. another SMS: ‘They took away our touch phones, I went on duty.’ And that’s it, there was no more communication.

And that’s it, after that we haven’t heard from him—haven’t seen him. On August 6, all this information [about the Ukrainian invasion] appeared. I started calling the unit in Klintsy—on the 6th I couldn’t get through, on the 7th I couldn’t get through, on the 8th I couldn’t get through... on the 9th they picked up the phone, I asked to speak to the chief. But I understand, I wasn’t talking to the chief. I asked what company Sasha served in, his platoon—they said they didn’t know. I say, “Where is my child?” They say, “We don’t know.” I say, what do you mean you don’t know, he is a conscript, I gave him to you! They answer, well, they are in occupied territory. Well, I say, they need to be evacuated then! “You understand yourself that while hostilities are going on there, no one will take them out of there.” I wrote to Elena Sannikova from the Kirov branch of the Soldiers’ Mothers [, a semi-official conscript rights organisation]. “Moms, be patient, take care of yourselves, take care of your nerves,” that’s how she answered.

We are calling hospitals. They say they “don’t give out such information.” And in the military unit in Klintsy, when we finally got through, the day before yesterday they managed to say, “[Sasha] is not on the bad lists.” I say, “So, these lists do exist?”

I didn’t get through to the Ministry of Defense. First I got to the presidential administration, and they just laugh at us there: they gave the wrong number [for the Ministry of Defense], and they also said that they “only accept written appeals.” We [mothers of conscripts] wanted to write to Putin. But whether it will reach Vladimir Vladimirovich, we don’t know. No, I think Vladimir Vladimirovich simply doesn’t know that our sons were sent there [to fight in the Kursk region].

How do I live these days? During the day, it’s kind of okay. But as soon as night begins, you have to cook food or you start to heat the bathhouse, I immediately think, how are they there? Where, what, without food, without water... For what, why? We are from a village, the pension is not enough, we keep goats, my husband has cancer... I am a pensioner—I gave birth to Sasha at 39. He was born to me on the Nativity of the Virgin Mary, he is marked—it can’t be that he disappeared. My heart aches—he’s probably in captivity.

“If we don’t help, they will perish, surrounded.” Irina Yatsyuk from Vologda, looking for her 21-year-old son Danil

Irina Yatsyuk’s son Danil was drafted on November 27, 2023. After training, he was sent to the Kursk region on June 6, 2024. The border was manned by conscripts, some there since April. When Ukraine attacked on August 6, unprepared conscripts faced prepared army units.

On August 6 at three in the morning, Danil wrote a message to his father: “Dad, at three in the morning the shelling began, until 12 noon it did not stop.”

They were leaving under fire. During the day, he wrote that they managed to get away “for 15 kilometers.” I ask, “Are there any wounded?” He says, “No.”

At five in the evening on August 9, he suddenly wrote: “We will be returning to storm our positions.” And he did not get in touch again.

Yesterday I went to Boguchar, to his military unit 54046. I arrived first thing in the morning from Vologda—that’s a 1,400-kilometer journey. I came, I say: pull up all the files, what company he is in, his tag number, where he is located. They immediately got to work, told me the company number and that Danil is alive.

“But now he is in a village, surrounded,” they say. It was the commander who spoke with us. I ask him, “And why are conscripts alone defending the border?” He says, “And who’s going to send me there?”

Some conscripts who went into the woods—they were taken out, taken by volunteers. I ask, “And what about those guys?” He tells me, “Now we will change [the conscripts’] clothes, and they will go again to take their positions.” I say, “There’s ongoing fighting there, and you are sending them back?” And he says, “We have no one else to replace them with.”

The military don’t offer anything, they just shrug their shoulders! What’s there to wait for? If we don’t help now, no one else will get them out! And they will perish there, surrounded, they have no help there.

“I’m thinking: should I buy a ticket to Kursk already, to find them?” Margarita Tikhonova from Orenburg, looking for her 19-year-old son Ilnar

My child is registered in military unit No. 91711, in Boguchar, Voronezh region. In June he was sent to Kursk region, and he did not tell me anything about why it happened.

He called me in the evening of August 11: “Mom, don’t worry, everything’s fine.” He called from his commander’s phone. I had written and written to the commander before that, but he didn’t answer. Then I asked him in on Telegram: “Is he alive? Or did something happen to him?’’ And in about three minutes Ilnar called, but he didn't say anything.

The next day, August 12, was my son’s birthday. He turned 19 years old. I wrote to the commander, “Please congratulate my son from us.” He said, “OK.” Then around lunchtime I called him, and he picked up the phone. The commander said, “Well, it's not very good. But it'll do.” I said, “I'll call you then.” “There will be no communication,” he replied.

I have three children of my own and I’m also raising a [foster] child with disabilities. Ilnar was so eagar to go to the army, he really wanted to. And then, after some time, he called and said, “Mom, tell [my brother] to go to school. There’s nothing to do in the army.” My second son wanted to quit the cadet school at that time.

Throughout these days, I’m on pills. I can’t do anything, it’s like I’m always there, always thinking about it. I’m thinking: should I buy a ticket to Kursk already, to find them? But I don’t have anyone who can look after these [other] children.

“It’s not as nice, smooth and good as they present it in the media and on TVs.” Sergei Zakharov, father of a conscript from Pskov

I know a hundred per cent about what’s happening to conscripts there. I have a son there now, he’s an enlisted soldier. And it’s not as nice, smooth and good as they present it in the media and on TVs. There are all sorts of recordings, clips, programmes where our president says that conscripts will not fight and there will be no conscripts [in the combat zone]. But they were, they are, and they will be there. 

The whole country is surprised when they find out: “How come? There are no conscripts there - these guys must have signed a contract!” I’m saying: “No, these are regular conscripts who are sitting there, half abandoned by the state!” 

I know that apart from our guys, there are other conscripts there. One hundred per cent. It’s not just one battalion of them there, but ten more. And there are many such units all over Russia, and we have to worry about them too. I’m getting calls from other parents looking for their boys. There's a lot of kids missing out there right now. And the Ministry of Defence does not give information on most of them. They know what’s wrong with them.

Nobody trained them. They were given assault rifles and sent out. All right, the guys are alright, they can figure it out, but at least give them water, give them food, give them uniforms. But I’m going to bring them clothes and supplies—for the fourth time! They are now standing at checkpoints, their toes are falling out of their boots. Is that normal?

They [Sergei’s son and his fellow soldiers] had a survey the other day. They were asked: who wants to go home? And do you know what they answered? Everyone wants to, but no one will go. Because if some of them leave, there will be even fewer guys left—and they definitely won’t be able to hold on. And that's why every last one of them stayed. Guys have already readjusted. Believe me, the human organism adjusts...(sighs) to any tune. So no matter how hard it is, they don't want to go home. I'm proud to say that. I can have a good night’s sleep because of these guys.

I’ve seen a lot of things, and I’ll get there. Believe me. I don’t like what’s going on out there. Neither do the boys.

“My son told me to collect a parcel with thermal underwear, pads, female tampons.” Natalia, Kamensk-Uralsky, Sverdlovsk region

In early July 2024, Natalya’s 21-year-old conscript son was sworn in at the military unit in Pochep, Bryansk region, and by the end of the month was transferred to Klintsy, where the 488th Guards Motorised Rifle Regiment is stationed. According to the woman, her son, along with other conscripts, is going to be sent to the regions bordering Ukraine.

Immediately after he took the oath, they were taken away [from the initial unit to the 488th Regiment], the very next day. Instead of a thousand people, there were four and a half thousand. 

They are going to be thrown to the border, into the fields. I don’t know the specifics, they are not reported to them. I spoke to him today. The mothers who have boys in the fields already, they will not keep quiet, they are already writing. But the situation—mine personally—is not so difficult yet.

My son, of course, is terrified. He doesn’t write to me, they have taken away all the phones and only give them out for money. I don’t have that kind of money. He calls from other people’s numbers, from the phones of those who have managed to hide them.

Nothing is disclosed. They can’t get anything at all. We were going to go to the Soldiers’ Mothers Committee today. They said: we don’t help conscripts, only those who are in the SMO. It’s a vicious circle.

My son told me to collect a parcel with thermal underwear, pads, and female tampons. Of course, that means they are being sent off [to fight].

Editor: Dmitry Treshchanin