Warning: contains distressing details of torture and warfare.
ALTHOUGH Oleksandr Usyk could walk through most American cities unnoticed and unheralded, in his embattled but defiant homeland of Ukraine, the world heavyweight champion is that rarity among pugilists – namely a boxer who matters deeply to those living beyond the sport’s usually confined constituency of hardcore fans.
Like three of his predecessors in the heavyweight division’s proud lineage – Jack Johnson, Joe Louis and Muhammad Ali – Usyk is a man who brings hope to people living through turbulent and desperate times. Don’t take my word for it – the testimony of an ordinary soldier who has resisted the Russian invasion provides perhaps the most eloquent evocation of how Usyk’s greatness transcends usual sporting boundaries.
Vilhelm Oleksandrovych Vitiuk is just 23 years old, but has had to grow up fast since his birth in Mykolayiv, a city in southern Ukraine. “I’m a veteran of the Russo-Ukrainian war,” he tells Boxing News by video link. “This war has taken a heavy toll on me, my loved ones, and my family.
“When I was a small boy we moved to the Crimea. When the war originally started in 2013, we moved back to Mykolayiv. In 2021, I signed a contract and joined military service in a mechanised infantry unit. My father is a veteran and my brother has fought in the conflict as well. This sense of duty within my family strongly influenced my decision to enlist.”
For most of our hour-long conversation, Vilhelm is an exemplar of stoicism, speaking in a matter-of-fact manner that often belies the graphic imagery his words invoke. Occasionally, however, when drawing deeply on a seemingly ever-present vape or waiting for his words to be translated, his face assumes a more disturbing countenance. Simultaneously – and somewhat disconcertingly – he somehow looks both older and younger than his relatively tender years.
Before we turn our attention to Usyk, Vilhelm gives a detailed account of the role he has played so far in the war with Russia, referring, with military precision, to the dates and times of experiences that seem to be seared permanently into his brain.
“On February 24, 2022, at 4 am, Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine,” he begins. “Our lieutenant woke us shouting, ‘Wake up! The war has started!’ although it had technically begun eight years earlier.
“We were immediately armed and sent to School No. 10, which served as the collection point for available forces. There, we organised food supplies, weapons, and began digging trenches and fortifying our positions. We also patrolled the city, reinforced the outskirts with sandbags, and prepared for the challenges ahead.
“What I saw was horrifying – civilian limbs severed by Russian shelling and countless dead bodies. Entire neighborhoods had been destroyed, and civilians killed indiscriminately. It was heartbreaking.”
While deployed near Volnovakha in Donetsk Oblast, Wilhelm witnessed further horrors. “We were stationed in an underground bunker where civilians sought refuge after losing their homes. Many shared harrowing accounts of Russian atrocities – torture, beatings, and even rape. Men were often captured, leaving women and children behind to endure unimaginable suffering.
“How should I describe the Russians who committed these atrocities?” Vilhelm asks. “I honestly don’t know what to call them. ‘Orcs’ or ‘bastards’ might be fitting, though stronger language would probably be more appropriate. The situation in Volnovakha was dire. Civilians were unable to leave, and families attempting to flee by car were often shot at checkpoints.”
In April, Vilhelm was involved in an evacuation mission to help women and children in Mariupol. During this operation he suffered a shrapnel injury and was taken to hospital. Due to an overwhelming influx of wounded soldiers, he left after just three days, insisting on returning to action with his unit despite “the hole in my back”.
Not long after, Vilhelm and his colleagues received orders to attempt a military breakthrough. “We agreed and left our positions in Mariupol,” he recalls. “To be honest, we didn’t manage to advance even a few metres. The following day, we tried again, but tanks blocked our path, and shells were exploding all around us. Forced to retreat, we returned to the bunker and deliberated. Determined to press forward, we decided to attempt another advance at dawn.
“This time, we managed to cover two or three hundred metres, but Russian soldiers were everywhere. Suddenly, someone shouted, “Ukrainian soldiers! Hands up! Surrender!” and once again, we had no choice but to return to our positions. While retreating, we saw numerous wounded soldiers desperately trying to crawl to safety. We did everything we could to help as many of them as possible.”
Vilhelm and his unit divided into two groups and decided to carry out a reconnaissance mission to gather information about Russian positions, hoping to also secure food and ammunition. On his return, Vilhelm discovered his colleagues had captured a Russian soldier. “We treated him humanely, providing him with food and refraining from any form of torture,” he stresses.
“The Russians, on the other hand, had one of our soldiers in captivity. Hoping to negotiate an exchange, we approached them. However, their response was blunt: we were given the ultimatum to either surrender or face battle. Faced with no viable alternative, our commander made the decision for us to surrender.”
For Vilhelm a terrifying year in captivity was about to begin. It’s clearly an experience that is almost unbearably painful for him to relate, but he is adamant about speaking out.
“I want to highlight something that is often overlooked by the mass media – the horrific and unbearable atrocities being inflicted on those held in captivity by the Russians,” he stresses. “Prisoners are subjected to various forms of torture and abuse – both psychological and physical. They use electric shocks, beat prisoners with batons, and even release dogs on them. In my case, they attempted to cut off a tattoo of the Ukrainian coat of arms from my arm.
“They break fingers and inflict unimaginable suffering. As for food, the Russians provide almost nothing. When I was captured, I weighed 75 kg, but by the time I was released, my weight had dropped to just 47 kg. In captivity, they have injected prisoners with infected syringes or deliberately placed them in cells with others suffering from diseases like AIDS or syphilis, intentionally trying to infect Ukrainians. We cannot remain silent. It is our duty to inform the world about these atrocities.”
Vilhelm was finally released on 10 April 2023. “I was very sick and had to go through extensive rehabilitation,” he recalls. “I struggled with motor skill issues, but over time, I managed to recover.
“Now, I work as a psychologist, supporting and talking to other soldiers who have returned from captivity. In addition, I serve as an ambassador for the Heart of Azovstal [funded] by Rinat Akhmetov, a project dedicated to supporting Mariupol defenders and their families. The initiative provides financial aid for surgeries and rehabilitation, as well as assistance with housing, education, job placement, and overall reintegration for soldiers and their loved ones.”
Through the dark days of the invasion and captivity, Vilhelm and his fellow soldiers have tried to maintain a sense of hope. And this is where the ring exploits of Oleksandr Usyk have proved an invaluable salve for a wounded nation and its people.
When Vilhelm speaks of Usyk, his face – hitherto drawn, serious, troubled – lights up with pleasure and pride. “I can’t speak for all of Ukraine, but I can share my thoughts about Oleksandr Usyk and what my comrades, some of whom know him personally, think of him,” he says.
“Usyk is an exceptional person – a devoted family man and someone who has done so much for the military. He has provided ammunition and countless other resources to support our soldiers. He has also shown great care for those who have been in captivity. Usyk is an absolute champion in the boxing ring, but he is also a truly remarkable human being.”
In December, thanks to the support of the Heart of Azovstal project, Vilhelm, along with three other veterans, attended the Usyk-Tyson Fury rematch in Saudi Arabia. “I am deeply grateful to the Heart of Azovstal for making this possible,” he says. “They purchased the tickets and covered the cost of our flights – something I’m sure was incredibly expensive. Without their support, we wouldn’t have been able to go.
“The Heart of Azovstal project deserves immense recognition. They go above and beyond, achieving the seemingly impossible to ensure that every soldier returns home to Ukraine. Their efforts extend to helping soldiers reintegrate into civilian life, providing comprehensive support to ease their transition and rebuild their futures.
“The journey to Saudi Arabia was long and challenging, but as soon as we entered the arena, you could feel the atmosphere. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. Unlike a football match, where there’s usually constant noise and shouting, here the crowd was silent, waiting with bated breath for the fight to begin.
“It was a legendary fight. Words can’t fully capture what it felt like to watch – it was as if I were in the ring with Usyk. Hearing the Ukrainian anthem played at the arena was absolutely unforgettable. It was an incredible moment and the fight was a masterpiece.”
While in Saudi Arabia, Vilhelm had the chance to meet Usyk and “chat about things in general” and he is adamant that his compatriot’s victory against Fury has served to bring hope and comfort to millions of Ukrainians.
“All the servicemen were eagerly waiting and hoping for Usyk to win,” he explains. “And when he did, it felt like a collective psychological release. His victory gave us something intangible yet vital – a resource to help us keep moving forward. He gives us hope that everything will be okay, that Ukraine will endure and prevail.
“What’s important to understand is that Oleksandr Usyk represents all of Ukraine. His victory was deeply meaningful. It wasn’t just a sports victory – it was a psychological triumph against the Russians. It showed the world that Ukraine has a champion, a fighter who embodies our resilience.”
While many in the West have urged Usyk to retire, arguing he has nothing left to prove in the boxing ring, Vilhelm is adamant that Ukraine’s greatest sporting son should continue to fight – like his countrymen are having to do every day.
“I truly believe Usyk should continue his journey,” he concludes. “He’s performing exceptionally well and is a phenomenal boxer. His success brings honour not only to his family and lineage but also to Ukraine as a whole.”
Vilhelm Vitiuk’s book, ‘Diary of Captivity’, is scheduled for release later this year, including in an English translation edition.
