Three soldiers are standing in front of the door of the house, which is something like their waiting room for war.
Parked under the tree is the BMW of the commander of the troop. Before the invasion, he used to be a businessman selling sport nutrition in Ternopil, Western Ukraine.
Three dogs frolic in the small space between the front door and the white VW bus in the driveway. They are only a few days old, the soldiers bought them food and tablets against the worms in the next town.
They don't have names yet.
The house is the retreat for the soldiers.
It was empty when the unit got here.
The soldiers' sleeping places are simple mats with thin covers, the sticky flypapers above them are black from their prey.
The commander, Ayaks, gives himself his usual haircut.
In the corridor at the entrance, one of the soldiers always has to be on duty. He is responsible for the radios, which mostly stay quiet.
Death is always a possibility here. The village is in artillery range of the Russian army. The commander regularly wakes them up at night so that they can get ready, says Phoenix.
The soldiers show each other videos on their mobile phones, they smoke a lot and fool around.
At first they were stationed on the Belarusian border, then they were sent to the south. "We move a lot" says Tox. "That's part of it."
Phoenix is quieter than yesterday. He talked to his wife on the phone, he says later over coffee. "Come home," she said. The wife, daughter and he have only seen each other once since Phoenix volunteered.
The order to move out comes. Phoenix gears up in the living room.
"It's like being a goalkeeper," He says: "Nothing happens for a long time, but if it does, then we have to be fully there."
He stands up with a strong swing and laughs, as if trying to smother the gloomy thoughts with a heap of good humor. There's something for him and Tox to do. After five minutes, the two are in front of the house. Protective vest, assault rifle, everything there except for the helmet. "We don't need it," says Phoenix. "We're just supposed to dig a ditch." Smirking, they set off with a gun in one hand and a shovel in the other. A change, anyway.
