“It's a hard day,” says Raimondas Urvikis as he enters the room. His brother-in-arms, Tadas Tumas, was killed a year ago and remains the only known Lithuanian to have died on Ukraine’s frontlines. “I want this damn war to end,” Urvikis adds after a while.
Urvikis served in the same unit of the International Legion with another Lithuanian comrade, Bobas, and the fallen Tumas, better known to Lithuanians by the nickname Milžinas (Giant), and to Ukrainians by the nickname Garos.
“He said he came to fight here so that the war wouldn’t come to him in Lithuania,” remembers Rusik, a Ukrainian soldier who went on the fateful mission together with Tumas.
That day on February 23, 2024, the Russians broke through between the frontline near the villages of Ivanivske and Klishiivka, southwest of Bakhmut in the Donetsk region. Together with Tumas, they received an order to help stop the Russian offensive.
“There was a breach at the front line, armoured vehicles broke through. They lent me and Tadas to the reconnaissance unit,” Rusik recounts.
Upon arrival, they had to head into the trenches and scatter some 13 anti-tank mines using a ground drone. However, they were stopped in their tracks when a Russian drone appeared overhead.
While en route to their positions, the drone dropped an explosive which detonated the anti-tank mines they were carrying.
“Those 100 kilos of TNT just exploded. Tadas died from the shock wave, I was thrown back quite hard,” Rusik says. “I tried to save him, but ultimately Tadas died during evacuation – his lungs were punctured. All measures were in vain, and he just died.”
Previously, Urvikis and Bobas told LRT they had to face the growing danger of drones and increasing casualty rates. But people like Tumas never backed down.
“We – Raima, I, other Lithuanians – do not refuse to go on missions because we know we are needed. There are wounded that need to be evacuated, we simply need to do the work because there is no one else,” Bobas said at the time.
“That is why the company commander and the battalion value us, they appreciate Lithuanians, Latvians, and Estonians. We know why we came here, we know that we are here until the end of the war, or until the other end. And we are ready for that,” Bobas said.
The exact number of Lithuanians fighting in Ukraine is not publicly known. Unlike Belarusians, Georgians or Colombians, Lithuanians do not form separate military units based on nationality and serve in different brigades and divisions.
Some avoid any contact with Lithuanian institutions and the media. Information about them often becomes public only after they are wounded and taken for treatment in Ukrainian or Lithuanian medical facilities or after they leave active service.
“I feel very sad for him. He was loved and respected by everyone, people remember him and cry,” said Rusik. “There are very few people like him.”
Tumas was buried in the Antakalnis Cemetery in Vilnius on March 16 following a brief farewell ceremony in Kyiv. Alongside his family and friends, the burial drew politicians, the military and border guards, as well as Žalgiris football fans and other former comrades.
“I only knew him for about two months, we lived together, but there was no time to accumulate stories,” Rusik said. “I did not know his family. I knew he had two sons, and we gave him a drone that we found [during an operation].”
“War is merciless, war is hard, and the enemy is strong,” he added. “I would like to say that there are very few heroes, and Tadas was one of them.”
After being injured next to Tumas, Rusik spent two months in the hospital – his foot was completely shattered by shrapnel. Now, he can only continue working at the headquarters.
Meanwhile, Urvikis and Bobas remained serving in the International Legion unit as part of the 92nd Brigade.
“You try not to get attached to people,” Bobas said, before naming all the friends who have died next to him over the years. “If everything would end, we could finally return home.”
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