Two Ukrainian deserter soldiers wander the streets of Barcelona.

BarcelonaWar is always unpredictable. War roamed the center of Barcelona at noon on Monday. The scene was striking: two Ukrainian soldiers, dressed in strict military uniform, were killing time while waiting for a bus at the Estacion del Norte station, next to the Arc de Triomf. People walked past the uniformed men, not noticing that they were coming from the trenches where the future of Europe is being decided. People didn't see the soldiers. People don't want to look at war. But there is war in Europe. The soldiers were disoriented. The soldiers were smoking. The soldiers had war in their eyes. The soldiers' boots were still dirty with mud.

I met the soldiers by chance, while I was going to the gym. One spoke English.

“You’re Ukrainian soldiers, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing here?”

“We arrived on Friday.”

“Are you here on vacation?”

“No.”

“Did you come for a medical reason?”

“No.”

“May I know what you’re doing here?”

—We fled from the war.

The Ukrainian soldiers at the Northern Railway Station are deserters: "We were fighting on the Kursk front, but we escaped two weeks ago taking advantage of some days of rest." The soldiers will agree to tell their story to the ARA: "Perhaps it can help us, perhaps it can help other kids who want to do the same." The soldiers are not pacifists: "This war is necessary and we have to win it, because if Putin isn't stopped, Putin will want to fuck you."The soldiers were simply exhausted: "We'd been at the front for three and a half years... We were fed up with seeing so much shit, so much blood. The war was killing us inside: at first I felt fear, by the end I felt nothing."

The soldiers ask for anonymity for security reasons.

—Why did you run away?

—We couldn't take it anymore. And I'll tell you one thing: if we hadn't run away, We would be dead now. And we didn't want to die.

—What do you mean?

—You've been to Ukraine, haven't you? You must know that very well: we soldiers die continuously. The front is increasingly deadly. In our group, there were 34 of us at the beginning. Now there are only three left: him, me, and another comrade who is in the hospital. The rest are all dead.

He takes out his cell phone and shows several photos of the group. They are taken from the front. They are dressed in strict military attire, as they are now. They are all men of living age. "This one stepped on a mine." "This one was a sniper." "Most were shot down by enemy drones." All dead. No one knows for sure how many soldiers have died in this war. Hundreds of thousands on each side. These are figures from World War II in artificially intelligent Europe.

—Do you feel bad about running away?

—Yes, obviously… We love Ukraine. I can understand that the soldiers who continue fighting get angry with us., but there's only one life.

—Their superiors will know they've escaped.

—Fuck them. Let them make their children fight. The children of politicians or high-ranking officials have been living abroad since the beginning of the invasion. War is only for the poor.

They are 37 and 38 years old. They voluntarily enlisted in the Ukrainian army at the beginning of the Russian invasion. Now they were stationed on the Kursk front. Last summer, they were part of Volodymyr Zelensky's troops that occupied part of that Russian region. One is originally from Chernihiv, near the border with Belarus; the other, from Kiev. Before the war, one worked as a carpenter, the other at a pest control company. War.

"Bus to La Roca Village, platform seven." A mechanical voice reminds me we're in the center of Barcelona. Japanese tourists rush to catch the bus. Residents of Fort Pienc walk dogs and go for a run. There's a Guardia Urbana station a few meters away. No police officer has said anything to the soldiers. No one has asked the soldiers anything. You don't have to be a military expert to realize they're soldiers. Ukrainian flags are visible on their uniforms.Invaders must die" (The invaders must die), reads a patch that one of the soldiers wears pinned to his jacket.

—Why are you still dressed in uniform?

—In our bag we almost only have military clothes. We also thought that this way Europe would help us more.

The soldier says that Ukrainian soldiers are the defenders of Europe. The soldier says that he expected different treatment from European governments. The soldier says that people in Europe live as if the war in Ukraine did not exist. The soldier says Europe must wake up.

The two defenders of Europe slept on the streets for the first two nights in Barcelona. On the third, a Ukrainian man took them into his home. "Friday and Saturday we slept here." Here These are the stairs in front of the main facade of the Estacion del Norte. "We had three-hour shifts: while one slept, the other kept watch. There were strange people, and we were afraid they would steal the little we had." The two defenders of Europe leave shower on Barceloneta beach. "We don't smell bad, do we?" They laugh.

—We decided to come to Barcelona because it's a big city: there are many consulates, Red Cross offices, many Ukrainians live here...

—Did you go to any of these places?

—A contact advised us to go to refugee aid centers, but they told us it's a long process, that it takes days to see us.

—And they didn't tell you anything else?

—They recommended we sleep in some mountains in Barcelona. That it's quieter there.

He shows me a sheet of paper with a small map. The mountains are the Montjuïc mountains. Someone has crossed out a circle on the map indicating the area. Barcelona full experience.

The defenders of Europe want to send a message to Europe: "We're not asking for money, or a free house, or food... we just need a job, the ability to work. Whatever we can work at. We can start tomorrow. Cleaning toilets, cleaning the street at night, harvesting fruit, whatever. We can start tomorrow."

The sound of an airplane is heard in the sky over Barcelona. The English-speaking soldier frets and looks up. I tell him not to worry, that it's a commercial airplane. I laugh. "I know, too long in the war... In Ukraine, any noise in the sky was always bad news." A man approaches us. He asks for money: he says he's five euros short on a bus ticket. He insists on the soldiers. He tells them that he was also a soldier in his country, Colombia. The soldiers use me as a translator. "Tell him that if he wants to earn money, he can join the International Legion and go fight in Ukraine. There are many Colombians fighting there." I explain this to the man asking for money, and, at the request of the Ukrainian soldiers, I show him the website where he can sign up for the war. The man asking for money says he'll think about it and leaves. Five minutes pass. The man asking for money hands it over and shows his phone screen: he's filled out the application to join the International Legion. "But in the meantime, are you sure you can't lend me five euros?"

Barcelona is almost as unpredictable as war.

The invasive parrots sing

Desertions are as old as war.

In Ukraine and Russia There are many cases of men who escape clandestinely from their country because they do not want to fight. Most flee preemptively before being recruited. Some escape once they've been mobilized at the front. The figures show –although in a war figures are hard to find– that desertions have increased on both sides of the trench. The war is long, war consumes, war frightens.

The soldiers prefer not to give details of how they fled Ukraine. They let me write a schematic explanation: five days crossing mountains to leave Ukraine via the border with Romania; a flight from Romania to Italy; a bus from Italy to Barcelona.

—And now where do you go?

—We're going back to Italy. We've been told that the asylum process is faster there. Here we have to wait many days... Barcelona is very expensive and we're running out of money.

On Monday night they took a 16-hour bus to Milan. This week they've been making arrangements for the Italian government to give them protection. They still haven't received a clear response.

There's also no clear policy from European Union governments regarding Ukrainian deserter soldiers. If they return to Ukraine, the two soldiers would be sentenced to between 10 and 12 years. Double charge: deserting the army and leaving the country illegally. Granting political asylum or refugee status to a Ukrainian soldier can be interpreted as a challenge to the government of Volodymyr Zelensky, a friend and ally of the Twenty-Seven.

"I like these birds." The soldier points to two parakeets singing and playing among the branches of a tree. The Argentine parakeet, with its green feathers, is considered an invasive species. The soldier watches the parakeets. The soldier speaks:

"Do you know what I'd like? To forget everything I've seen in the war and live in peace. To live peacefully in a village: have 20 chickens, plant potatoes, go fishing."

"What have you seen in the war?"

"Too many things. I don't know. Once, Russia bombed a building and killed 76 people. The corpses were so mangled that we had to look for hands and feet to put the bodies back together."

"What has the war meant to you?"

—At first, a duty. They were invading us, I had to do something to defend Ukraine. I told my wife, "This is no joke, this is war."

"And what about after?"

"You're seeing what happens next now: my whole life is in this backpack, I've slept on the streets of Barcelona, ​​​​I can't see my wife, and I don't know what will become of me tomorrow. But I guess I should consider myself lucky."

"Why?"

"Almost all my friends are dead."

The invasive parrots continue to sing in the Barcelona sky. The PA announces the destination of more buses: Cardedeu, Paris, Valencia, Cadaqués. The PA at Estacion del Norte makes me think of The PA system at Kiev train station, filled with soldiers coming and going from the frontA very sad scene. A young couple sits a few meters from where we are. They are carrying suitcases. They are also waiting for a bus. The soldiers hear them talking. The soldiers get restless. The soldiers look at me. The soldiers speak to me in low voices: "They're Russians." The Russians don't look at the Ukrainian soldiers either: They are absorbed in their screens smartphones.

—What does it feel like sitting next to two Russian people?

—I don't know. I guess I feel bad. I know how much damage this war has done. They don't know anything. They continue traveling and living as they have always lived.

—Will you ever be able to forgive them?

—Maybe in 100 years.

—Is there something you want to tell them?

—No.

Barcelona is unpredictable. War is unpredictable. There is war in Europe.