Book: Pavel Filatyev “ZOV”

Many media outlets wrote about Pavel Filatyev’s book, as it offered a view of the war in Ukraine through the eyes of a professional Russian soldier who found himself there from the very first days.

Pavel Filatyev is a junior sergeant in the Russian Airborne Forces and comes from a military family. His father was also a paratrooper, and Pavel essentially grew up on a military base—where he would later return to serve. A real military lineage, much like in the Soviet film Officers, where they serve because “there is such a profession — to defend the Motherland.”

Moreover, both his father and Pavel himself were not just stationed idly at their units—they had real combat experience. Pavel fought in Chechnya. However, over time, the army became increasingly irrelevant, and he left for civilian life, where he spent nearly 10 years doing work unrelated to the military. But after a failed business venture and financial difficulties, he began considering a return to the army under a contract. He specifically wanted to join the same unit he’d known since childhood—though by then, it had already been restructured and relocated from his hometown to Feodosia, in Crimea, which had by that point been annexed.

Pavel rejoined the unit shortly before February 2022.

His book ZOV is essentially a memoir of what happened from the moment he returned to the army up until his return home after combat. It’s not a book in the traditional sense—it’s more of a raw emotional outpouring, filled with frustration, sometimes taking the form of a stream of consciousness. At times it reads like a diary, though more of a retrospective one, since while the entries are dated, it’s clear from the narration that everything was written after the fact.

It’s also important to note that Pavel is not a professional writer, and the language in the diary reflects that. The text is full of spelling and grammatical mistakes, occasional typos, and frequent repetition. Even minimal editing would have significantly improved its readability.

He begins his account with his arrival at the unit, trying to settle in and get back into a training routine. But time and again, he runs up against the utter indifference of the command toward the troops. He contrasts the “old army” he once knew with what the airborne forces had become. He repeatedly vents his anger over how “the army was squandered.” Of course, neither the Soviet nor the Russian military was ever perfect, but according to him, even what once existed has been lost—replaced by box-ticking and empty formalities.

It’s hard to say how much of the chaos described in the book is fact, and how much is shaped by the author’s personality—because Pavel describes himself as a “truth-teller and idealist,” someone who always speaks his mind. So you’re left wondering: is everyone around him truly incompetent, or is he just hard to get along with?

Still, that doesn’t negate the dysfunction he describes within the military.

He makes it clear that there is no real training happening—not for conscripts, not for contract soldiers. The gear is worn out, the weapons are rusty (and even then, not issued right away). He didn’t even have a place to sleep and had to solve that himself. And this was all before the war began.

Once the war started, it turned into an every-man-for-himself situation. Commanders didn’t know what to do, and no one had meaningful combat training. Any early “successes” were, it seems, due to the surprise attack rather than any superiority of the Russian army over the Ukrainian one.

Pavel goes into detail about his day-to-day life and arguments with commanders in the days leading up to the invasion, then describes roughly the first ten days of the war, and only briefly covers his return to the rear. But even that is enough to paint a vivid picture of what was going on.

He’s against the war. He doesn’t want to kill. But he went along with it, not knowing what was really happening. And even after realizing it was Russia that had launched the invasion, he kept fighting—because of “combat brotherhood,” the feeling that he had to stand by his fellow soldiers. That mindset probably helps you survive in war. But as he himself says repeatedly—this wasn’t his war.

Unfortunately, by the final part of the book, I saw a lot of anger directed at people who say “I’m ashamed of my country.” Pavel seems to think everyone should openly state their position. It’s commendable that he shared his own truth through this book, knowing the risks it carried. But condemning those who chose to leave—calling them cowards or traitors—isn’t fair. Many who fled are still voicing their opposition and influencing others, often as public figures. Had they stayed, their protests would have lasted five minutes—just long enough to get shoved into a police van.

And let’s not forget—Pavel himself didn’t refuse to go on the offensive and was ready to shoot Ukrainians, even after realizing how absurd it all was. His reason? “Well, the guys were all there.” That’s a weak excuse for being willing to kill innocent people in a war your country started.

He calls for the fighting to stop and for both nations to find common ground. But first, maybe the Russian troops should leave Ukraine—where no one invited them. How do you “negotiate” with someone who has already pinned you down and dropped their pants?

On top of that, Pavel puts too much emphasis on the whole “we Slavs are few” idea, and complains about the number of immigrants in Russia. He doesn’t seem to realize that this is where nationalism begins. Instead of simply saying “no one should kill anyone,” he frames it as “we’re all Slavs, and brothers shouldn’t kill brothers.” As if it’s fine to kill non-Slavs.

All in all, the book—and the author’s position—left me with mixed feelings. But I don’t regret reading it. It’s likely one of the only brutally honest accounts from inside the Russian army we’ve seen.

My rating: 2.5/5