Ukrainian Soldier and Pianist Mykola Dorosh in the Podcast After the Pause #4

The second season of the podcast “After the Pause” is dedicated to Ukrainian musician-soldiers who have returned from the front. Pianist and teacher Mykola Dorosh had been building an international career before the full-scale war. From a training centre in Great Britain to the marines and an officer position — his story tells of a sharp change of profession and self-identification.

In this interview, the veteran, whose call sign was “Spaniard”, speaks about adaptation to the army, loss and return to music, brothers-in-arms, and an experience that changes one’s understanding of discipline, freedom, and meaning.

The author and initiator of the podcast, Dzvenyslava Safian, spoke with Mykola. We publish the text version of this conversation.

How did you become a soldier?

Mykola Dorosh: The story is quite prosaic. In June 2023, I went to update my data as person liable for military service, and at the same time I was mobilized. Of course, it was a certain shock, because I thought that I would have some time to adapt, time to prepare my wife, and so on. But on that very day I received a summons, and the next day I found myself in a training centre.

I stayed there for about two weeks, then we were sent to Great Britain for basic military training, and after returning — again to a training centre for specialist training. This whole initial stage lasted approximately 65–70 days.

During this period, I tried to get into an orchestra, because I could not completely renounce myself as a musician. I even attended rehearsals, and I was sometimes released from classes for half a day. In the army everything is very hierarchical: an order came, and I, together with others, was sent to the marines. This was on September 1, 2023.

I became a mortar operator. As part of a battalion there is a mortar battery, which is sometimes called “small artillery”, and it covers the infantry. I was part of such a battery in one of the battalions. Today, the marines carry out the same tasks as other units. We do not have a choice to operate “purely at sea” or in a water environment — tasks are determined by the needs of the front.

How was the British experience different from Ukrainian training?

Mykola Dorosh: I did not have a full-fledged experience for comparison, because I had not served before. But even from a short observation in the training centre and my stay in Britain, what impressed me most was the attitude of military personnel towards one another. Unfortunately, we still retain certain Soviet remnants. There I saw a different standard of interaction with subordinates — that truly impressed me. Secondly, I was interested in testing myself: whether I, as a musician, would be able to fit into the military system, to endure physically.

Besides this, at times I helped the interpreters during classes, because they had a heavy workload, and I knew foreign languages. Sometimes I instructed the group together with them. Perhaps because of this, I performed the duties of squad commander at that time. In general, I really liked this experience, although it was physically and psychologically difficult.

Was there an opportunity to engage in music during service, even while on leave?

Mykola Dorosh: Until the moment when I realized that I would no longer have real ways of returning to a musical career within the army, I still made attempts. But later I completely abandoned this. During leave I no longer had any desire to sit down at an instrument, because I did not want to traumatize myself psychologically. I decided: if I am in the army — I must fully immerse myself in this process.

Later there was another attempt, when our brigade was on recovery. The marine orchestra came to us. I then approached the conductor, we exchanged contacts, I showed him videos. They were actually looking for a pianist, but my commander did not let me go.

I remember when the commander received a “relation” concerning me (a document in which another unit asks for a serviceman to be transferred to its composition), he said: “That is good, but your instrument right now is a 120-calibre tube.” This became our internal joke. And after that I finally accepted my role.

Did musical education and discipline influence your military adaptation?

Mykola Dorosh: The hardest thing for me was to learn simply to wait and do nothing. I have a habit of constantly studying something, but in the army there is a lot of time when you simply have to be present and do nothing. This was probably the hardest thing — boredom and the feeling of “lost time”. I even sometimes listened to music in order to remain in contact with myself. But there was no longer an opportunity to play music.

At the same time, the discipline that music gives, and a certain endurance, still helped adaptation. It was easier to accept the principle: there is a duty — it must be fulfilled.

What were your fellow soldiers like? Were there any musicians among them? How did you find common ground? What kind of music do people listen to in the army?

Mykola Dorosh: In general, the army is a cross-section of society, a very diverse environment. There you encounter people from completely different professions and social backgrounds. At first, there were no musicians in the unit. I had to become acquainted with the repertoire that soldiers listened to — at that time it was the popular Klavdiia Petrivna, Skofka, and so on.

A musician is an exotic profession for the army, but that means nothing. Yes, the transition from a different way of thinking complicates mastering complex equipment or weaponry — but perhaps later, on the contrary, it even provides an advantage.

Before that, I taught music to children, and with them one has to choose words carefully. In the army, everything happens very straightforwardly and harshly. I underwent a personal transformation, because you do not choose with whom you sit in a dugout. You are forced to find mutual understanding with a person, and the situation itself pushes and “grounds” you towards this. You have to overcome your stereotypical perceptions and learn to work with these people, sometimes even truly come to love them, because you share one common goal.

What did your service routine look like? What do you remember most?

Mykola Dorosh: The entire period of service was very dynamic. With time, you even undergo career development within the army. I decided for myself: if I am already here — I have to do my maximum. No shirking, no detachment. If I am a soldier — I am a soldier.

The first deployments in the autumn of 2023 were the hardest. I worried whether I would preserve my hands. A 120-mm mortar is a heavy system, about 240–250 kg in assembled form. And all of this has to be carried in parts. With time, I got used to it and calmed down. I stopped constantly thinking about it — more urgent matters appeared: to survive and accomplish the mission.

After that, deployments became regular. I was a mortar crew commander, because I had undergone specialist training and was considered a specialist. We entered the marines at the moment of the counteroffensive: first Donbas, then Kherson, later Toretsk, and again the south of Donbas before my discharge.

What helped you then? Do you believe in God or in some other idea? Why is it necessary to fight?

Mykola Dorosh: There is no single answer here. If one says that it is only faith in something better — that would be an oversimplification. I would describe it as a combination of several inner components… Let us say, first — it is simply the desire to live, which guides you. You want to return home, because you have certain meanings there. You want to raise children and live.

Secondly — it is faith. I am a believer. And I always had a prayer rope with me (a special cord with tied knots or threaded beads used by Christians for concentration during prayer — D.S.), which I never took out of my pocket. I constantly carried it with me. Before deployment, it was a kind of ritual: to pray with the prayer rope. Later, when I was no longer working as a crew commander, but had already become a platoon commander, an officer, I still always had it with me, but I prayed not for myself, but for my boys.

Other components are, probably, some kind of awareness that you must be here and that you must go through this, whatever you encounter. I drew parallels with my roots: my grandfather was repressed, his parents, and brothers and sisters from different sides as well.

Therefore, I always had the understanding that this struggle for independence is something primordial, and that you, as a descendant, become a participant in these events in your own moment.

At that time, my profession as a musician was not important to me. I already perceived myself as a continuation of this struggle: this is my mini-mission, my task.

I remember sitting somewhere on the sixth or seventh day of a deployment and reflecting on the twentieth century, which was very tragic for Ukrainian culture. The artists of the Executed Renaissance, as well as the composers Leontovych, Khotkevych, Barvinskyi — they all directly experienced Russian aggression themselves (The Executed Renaissance was a generation of Ukrainian writers, artists, and intellectuals of the 1920s–early 1930s who experienced a cultural boom under Soviet rule, but were later repressed, arrested, and largely executed during Stalin’s purges. — D.S.).

Read also: Vasyl Barvinsky: A Composer Without Boundaries

Then I realized: despite my, let us say, “delicate” profession, I now have the right and the honour to stand up for my Ukraine. After that, the thoughts that a musician and the army are something different disappeared. Everything came together, and on the contrary, I even became more cheerful, because I actually have the opportunity to defend myself with a weapon. No one asked them back then — they simply became victims.

You mentioned that you were a mortar crew commander and then became an officer. How does this career progression take place? How did your duties change?

Mykola Dorosh: After I had already worked for a year as a mortar commander and at the same time tried to do my job well, the commander who had been observing me gave recommendations upward. People who have higher education and combat experience have a chance to grow in a military career.

In my case, this happened after I had already been acting platoon commander (the platoon’s senior sergeant); later I was sent to officer courses at a military academy. Whenever I take on something, I want to study it more deeply. Nothing was ever enough for me. And I returned already to the position of platoon commander and remained in this position until my discharge.

My experience is not something unique. In reality, many people from various professions are involved in the army. One such example: during my studies at the military academy, there was a guy with me who had previously studied directing in the United States and had had no connection to the army. His works were truly very talented, but when the war began, he came to serve.

Let us turn to your civilian past. How did your passion for music begin? What happened next?

Mykola Dorosh: I was born in the village of Bachiv in Lviv region; this is actually the junction of three regions: Lviv, Ivano-Frankivsk, and Ternopil. But we moved to the city of Kalush with the family. I started studying music early, probably thanks to my grandfather, who was self-taught and played practically all instruments: violin, accordion, wind instruments, cymbals. In general, music was greatly loved in our family. My mother sang at weddings.

I went to music school. I chose the piano. It came easily to me. And, probably, during the first years I did not think at all whether I would continue performing in the future.

I remember the moment when I was already facing the choice of entering college. There was a conversation with my teacher and her attempt to dissuade me, because teachers earn little and, supposedly, there are no prospects. However, I decided to apply despite these discouragements. I wanted something greater.

At college, it was as if my eyes were opened to how much time one needs for practice, and that, in reality, I could do almost nothing. Now it sounds extremely strange, but at that time we very actively included Russian music in our repertoire. I liked Rachmaninoff and Scriabin because it was a texture that came to me relatively easily. I also greatly liked Bach and Brahms. I immersed myself in Bach’s music as if into a system — trying to “dig down” to his musical logic.

The conservatory greatly broadened my horizons and gave me an inner impulse to discover Ukrainian music. I consciously began turning to Ukrainian composers because I realized that a great deal of music was not being performed and remained little known. This became an inner conviction. I performed a lot of Liudkevych, Barvinskyi, and Revutskyi, especially in the accompanying class, where Ukrainian music was constantly heard. Later, already in Spain, my wife and I even organized a concert of Ukrainian music. At first, the teacher treated it skeptically, but later began asking for more scores.

During a concert of Ukrainian music in Valencia, 2017

After the Lviv Music Academy, I had a year-long break, and then I entered the conservatory in Spain. At the same time, I worked, taught, and performed in various projects, including jazz projects (already from my third year in Lviv, I performed with jazz groups).

In Spain (2016–2018), I also worked as a ballet accompanist. It was a classical ballet school: I played waltzes, opera fragments, material for exercises. I also worked in restaurants, taught even Spanish-speaking children, and earned money this way for my studies. After two years, we decided to return, because although Spain had charmed us with its relaxed rhythm, climate, and culture, we wanted financial stability.

After that, we went to work in the United Arab Emirates (2018–2020) as music teachers. It was a private school following the English system with an enormous workload: six working days a week, constant movement between branches, and different students.

In 2020, we returned to Lviv because of the pandemic, the end of our contract, and family circumstances — my mother’s illness and my wife’s pregnancy with our first daughter. After returning, I started working again: teaching, accompanying, and an online school. Fatherhood influenced me very strongly: it changed my priorities and gave me a different sense of meaning. Life became more structured and subordinated to the children.

How did your children cope with being separated from you during your mobilization?

Mykola Dorosh: It was stressful for my wife and also for my elder daughter, Teresa, who was very attached to me and for a long time did not understand where I had gone. After all, two years and four months is a very early age to understand anything. And my younger daughter, Melaniia, was four months old when I was mobilized. In January of this year, my son Severyn was born, and in March I returned to my family.

Are you currently working at the Centre of National Resistance?

Mykola Dorosh: Yes, it is a municipal enterprise of the Lviv Regional Council, where I work as an instructor for training courses for civilians. This cannot be called full-fledged military training — rather, it is basic knowledge, including both theory and practice. At the end there are shooting exercises and a certificate. I teach international humanitarian law. It is a very narrow but important discipline. Civilians engage in discussions extremely actively and ask many questions. I was invited there because, after almost three years of service, having knowledge and experience, I was looking for a way to remain in the military environment, but no longer as a serviceman.

And how did you return to music?

Mykola Dorosh: It turned out to be simple: I had to learn the repertoire at the music school where I had also been employed. I came and asked for leave, but they told me that examinations were in two weeks, and there was no way out — I immediately returned to work as an accompanist.

Having lived through this entire period, putting life on hold, we nevertheless decided to buy an acoustic instrument for our home. Our elder daughter is already trying to play, but we are deliberately not teaching her — she does not perceive us as teachers. My wife has ideas about opening a music school in the future.

What are your musical plans?

Mykola Dorosh: I want to focus more on Ukrainian music as a performer. After everything that has happened. Ambitions are dulled by fatherhood, but inside this thought still smoulders: one has to devote oneself to what one has been trained for.

 

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The project is a winner of the Per Forma grant program developed by Kyiv Contemporary Music Days with the support of the Performing Arts Fund NL and the Ministry of Education, Culture and Science of the Netherlands, aimed at developing the performing arts sector in Ukraine.

 

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• Ukrainian Musician and Veteran Stas Nevmerzhytskyi In the Podcast After the Pause
• Ukrainian Soldier, Violinist, and Conductor Olha Rukavishnikova In the Podcast After the Pause #2
• Ukrainian Soldier and Composer Yevhen Petrov In the Podcast After the Pause #3