The War We Didn’t Want But Got Anyway

War doesn’t care about your plans. It doesn’t ask for permission, and it sure as hell doesn’t wait for anyone to get ready. I was an Army Ranger at the ripe age of 35, long after most men would’ve hung up their boots for a cushy executive job. For several long years, I saw what it takes to prep for war, day in and day out. The cold mornings, the relentless drills, the camaraderie that keeps you going. But war? It’s chaos, and no amount of prep can change that.

When I left the Army, honorable discharge in hand, I entered the world of corporate warfare. Trust me, it’s no less chaotic, just with less useless and redundant equipment to carry, a whole lot nicer bling and a bit less crap on my boots. Most of the time. You’ve still got to make your own rules if you want to survive. Like the Ukrainians now. They didn’t ask for their war, just like I didn’t ask to unlearn everything I learned as a Ranger. But when war shows up at your door, you figure it out. You make your own rules, and if they don’t work, you change them on the go. Because survival is the only goal that matters.

The One Rule of War: Anything Goes. Anything.

In the Army, we had a nice, neat set of rules for war—rules of engagement (ROE), to be followed without question. But when you’re alone, no backup, no team to count on, those rules fly out the window. When I operated alone as a civilian in special operations, I adopted only one ROE: anything goes. Forget the Geneva Conventions. Forget the Hague Conventions. War isn’t a classroom exercise. It’s about annihilating the enemy so he doesn’t come back to haunt you in the future. Simple. Brutal. Effective. My being here today is living proof.

That’s what I see in Ukraine right now. The Ukrainian Insurgent Army (UPA) understood this long before today’s conflict. Formed during World War II, these guys didn’t follow anyone else’s rules. They fought Nazi Germany, the Soviet Union and the Polish resistance—all at once. It was pure all-out mayhem, but they had a single goal: protect Ukraine and her citizens at all costs. And sometimes, that meant anything goes.

The UPA wasn’t looking to win popularity contests. They didn't have any public-relations guru to spin their violence into a soft fairy tale. They accepted violence as a political tool. Between 50,000 and 100,000 Poles were massacred in Volhynia and Eastern Galicia during their struggle. That’s not a pleasant piece of history to recount, but war isn’t a pleasant affair. It’s messy, it’s bloody, and it’s never, ever simple. I feel for those beautiful souls lost to the slaughter of war. A plain fact of war: sometimes the innocent die. Sometimes horribly.

The Ukrainian Insurgent Army: Fighting on All Fronts

The UPA officially formed in 1942, though their fight for Ukraine started long before that. They were a decentralized group, spread out over different regions of Ukraine. The front lines moved constantly, and the UPA had to adapt to both Nazi and Soviet threats. Talk about juggling chainsaws. The Germans thought they could crush them. The Soviets thought the same. But the UPA didn’t quit. They kept pushing, even after the war ended, with some units still fighting well into the 1950s. Stalin knew he had his hands full.

Now, if you think that’s a long war, you’re right. The UPA didn’t formally disband until 1949, but unofficially, they were still fighting in the Hungarian border region in 1956. You’ve got to admire that kind of tenacity. Or maybe it’s just stubbornness. Either way, they didn’t let a little thing like losing stop them. I feel the same: during my combat missions, there was no such thing as "failure," only steps from one space to the next, doing whatever it took to get home safely.

And here’s the kicker: in 2019, surviving UPA members were officially recognized as veterans by the Ukrainian government. That’s right, seventy-plus years after the fact, they finally got the nod. It just goes to show that history has a long memory, even if it takes its sweet time getting the recognition right. The US Department of Defense does this all the time: finally recognizing the heroism of those long gone to Valhalla. It's kind of a sad irony, really.

The ones who bled for their country don’t get the praise when it matters most—when they’re alive to hear it. Instead, it comes wrapped in ceremony, attended by strangers, decorations and medals handed to their grandchildren, and words whispered over graves.

But that’s the way of things, isn’t it? We’re always too late in saying thank you, always too slow to honor the brave until they’re nothing but names on a plaque. By then, the world’s moved on, and the men and women and some children who deserved the recognition are just ghosts, watching from somewhere far away, shaking their heads with a knowing smile.

Fighting Without a Playbook

The UPA wasn’t organized like a typical army. Their command structure overlapped with the Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN). Their leaders wore multiple hats—local OUN leaders were often the same guys leading UPA units. It was like a guerrilla band that figured things out as they went. No set playbook. You make do with what you’ve got, and if something doesn’t work, you change it.

That’s a lesson Ukraine is using today. When Russia crossed the line in 2022, Ukraine wasn’t following a standard playbook either. They adapted, just like the UPA did. They had no choice. When your home is under attack, you don’t stop to ask for directions. You fight, and you keep fighting until the enemy is either gone or dead.

Like the UPA, Ukraine today has become a decentralized network of soldiers, civilians and everyone in between. It’s a war of survival. And when survival’s on the line, anything goes. The UPA learned that during World War II, and Ukraine is living it now.

Guerrilla Warfare: The Original No-Rules Game

The UPA specialized in guerrilla warfare. They didn’t have the resources for a full-scale army, so they had to get creative, kinda like French peasants did in hard times, so they invented "peasant food" that later became known as "fine French cuisine."

That meant hit-and-run tactics, sabotage, and blending into the population when things got too hot. They were fighting two of the biggest military machines in history, and yet they survived. Not bad for a bunch of partisans operating in the backwoods. In years to come, their tactics will become the standard for others to follow: "fine Ukrainian cuisine, kissed" (FUCK).

This kind of fighting requires one thing above all else: flexibility without complaint or hesitation. The UPA knew that, and that’s why they were able to outlast enemies far larger and more organized than they were. It’s not that they were invincible—it’s that they were adaptable and resilient. They changed their tactics as the situation demanded, and that’s why they lasted as long as they did.

Ukraine today is doing the same thing. They’re adapting. When Russian tanks roll through their wheat fields, they don’t stand in line and wait to be overrun. They find a way around, or they launch a few $100 suicide drones and blast the damn tank to pieces when it least expects it. Guerrilla warfare isn’t about brute strength. It’s about using your enemy’s weaknesses against him. And that’s something the Ukrainians, like the UPA before them, have mastered. FUCK the Russians, I say. So do the Ukrainians.

Survival in the Cold Ukrainian Nights

Now, I’ve seen some long nights in my time—nights where you’re sitting in the cold, waiting for something to happen, hoping it doesn’t. But war doesn’t care about hope. The UPA knew that. They operated in some of the harshest conditions imaginable. Nights in Ukraine can get cold enough to freeze your soul, and when you’re waiting for the next attack, that cold can get inside your head. But those nights made them tough. It’s when the world seems darkest that you learn what you’re really made of. Or the cold world simply freezes your sorrow in place.

That’s what’s happening now in Ukraine. The front lines are long and the nights are longer. You’ve got tanks rolling through towns where children used to play, and the worst part isn’t the fighting—it’s the waiting. The waiting for the next shell to drop, for the next move to be made. It’s the kind of waiting that gets into your bones, that makes you question if the sun will ever come up again. But it does. And when it does, you keep fighting because there’s no other option.

The UPA kept fighting through those long nights, and the Ukrainians are doing the same now. It’s in their blood. War has a way of hardening a people, of making them tougher than they ever thought they could be. And by the time the sun comes up, you’ve either learned to live with the fear, or you’ve let it consume you. The UPA lived with it, and so does Ukraine today.

A New Generation of Soldiers

The funny thing about war is that it doesn’t just create soldiers. It forces them. Ukraine didn’t ask for this war, but now, everyone’s a soldier. A mother who was working in a factory yesterday is picking up a rifle today. A grandfather who was fixing cars last week is now patching up wounds. The UPA knew that war turns civilians into fighters because they lived it. They were peasants, workers, students—ordinary people forced into an extraordinary situation.

Ukraine today is no different. They didn’t want to fight, but they’ll damn well do it. And once you’ve tasted liberty, once you’ve fought for your home, it’s impossible to go back to the way things were. That’s what Putin doesn’t understand. You can’t unring a bell, and you can’t put the fight for freedom back in its box once it’s been unleashed. Ukraine isn’t just fighting for land; they’re fighting for their very existence, just like the UPA did all those years ago.

And just like the UPA, they’ll keep fighting until the enemy is gone. Putin might think he’s playing a game of chess, but Ukraine isn’t a pawn. It’s a country full of people who’ve been through hell before, and they’ll go through it again if that’s what it takes.

The West has sent weapons, money and words of encouragement. But that only goes so far. You can’t win a war with just words. You need action. You need commitment. And you need to be willing to see it through to the bitter end.

The Potential Outcomes

1. The Stalemate

There’s a funny thing about war. Sometimes it just sits there. Both sides hunkered down, neither able to win, neither willing to quit. That’s what we’re seeing now—a war of attrition. It’s like two boxers, worn out by round twelve, leaning on each other, neither ready to land the knockout punch.

Thing is, the Ukrainian boxer is biding his time, that moment when his opponent drops his guard just enough for him to land a solid punch to the gut, a strike that makes him stumble. No knockout punch, mind you, but something that stings to the core.

Russia thought they could steamroll Ukraine, but they were wrong. Ukraine is standing, and with a little help from the West, they’ll keep standing. But it’s a long road, and no one’s sure where it ends.

What happens in a stalemate? The war could drag on for years, neither side making much progress. Ukraine will keep fighting for every inch of their land, and Russia will keep trying to hold on to what they’ve taken. The world will watch, shaking their heads, wishing someone would just throw in the towel.

But wars don’t end because people get tired. They end when there’s nothing left to fight over, or when the deep pockets funding the war have moved on to the next one, having squeezed final blood from Russian and Ukrainian turnips.

2. Russian Attrition

Russia is like a bear—strong, but slow to wake up. They’ve got power, but the war is wearing them down. Sanctions are biting, and their economy is feeling it. Their army isn’t what it used to be. They’re losing men, losing ground, and maybe, losing their grip on power.

Putin thought he could win this war quickly, but the longer it drags on, the more it eats away at his hold on Russia. The people aren’t blind. They see what’s happening. The shelves are emptier. The future looks bleaker. And if Putin keeps pushing, he might just push himself out of power.

What happens in Russian attrition? If Russia crumbles from within, the war could end on Ukraine’s terms. Putin could be overthrown, or maybe he just steps aside. Either way, a new leader might look to end the war quickly, offering Ukraine back its lands in exchange for peace. But that kind of ending doesn’t come cheap. The question is, how much more can Russia take before it breaks?

3. The Escalation

It’s the worst-case scenario, and nobody wants to say it out loud. But it’s there, hanging over everything like a dark cloud. What if Russia doesn’t stop with Ukraine? What if Putin, cornered and desperate, decides to take things further? He’s got his finger on the nuclear button, after all. The world knows it. He knows it.

Russia could escalate, not just in Ukraine, but elsewhere. Cyberattacks, economic warfare, maybe even strikes against NATO countries. The dominoes could start to fall, one by one, until we’re all tangled up in the mess.

What happens in escalation? The war could spill over, dragging NATO into the fray. If that happens, all bets are off. It could go global. It could go nuclear. And that’s a future nobody wants to see. But with war, you can never be too sure. The worst outcome is always just one bad decision away.

4. The Ukrainian Victory

Here’s the dream, the one the Ukrainians are fighting for every day. They push Russia back, reclaim their land, and stand victorious. It’s not impossible, but it’s a hell of a long shot. They’ll need more than just guts to pull it off. They’ll need the full weight of the West behind them, and they’ll need Russia to crumble like a house of cards.

But if they can do it—if they can drive Russia out—they’ll be heroes. The world will cheer, and Ukraine will stand as a testament to what a small country can do when they refuse to give up.

What happens in a Ukrainian victory? Ukraine would retake its lands, rebuild its cities, and start to heal. Russia would be left licking its wounds, its reputation shattered, its power diminished. But that kind of victory doesn’t come without a cost. Ukraine will be rebuilding for years. The scars of war will run deep, and while they may win, they’ll never be the same again.

The Final Word is Never Final

War is hell. We’ve known that since the first time a man picked up a weapon and pointed it at another man. But it’s also inevitable. As long as there are borders, as long as there are men who want more than what they have, there will be wars.

This war is no different. It’s brutal, it’s bloody, and it’s tragic. But it will end. They all do. The only question is who will still be standing when the smoke clears.

Ukraine is fighting for its survival. Russia is fighting for its pride. In the end, survival always wins.

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