the secret weapons of ukraine

A JOURNEY THROUGH THE STRANGE, SEMIPROFESSIONAL WORLD OF VOLUNTEERS AND FOREIGN FIGHTERS WHO, ONE YEAR INTO RUSSIA'S INVASION, ARE RISKING EVERYTHING TO DEFEAT THE INVADERS

- MATT GALLAGHER

ON THE ROAD

The air-raid siren sounded again through the defiant city, but William McNulty refused to be bothered by it. After a long morning of meetings in Kyiv with Ukrainian partners in need of medical tourniquets and cold-weather clothing, the man had earned an afternoon nap. The air flowing through the hotel room's open window nipped of brittle autumn, and sunlight was leaking through gray clouds; winter, as the Ukrainians liked to quip, was coming.

Fuck it, McNulty thought. The chances of getting hit by a drone strike in a city of three million people seemed low. A U.S. Marine veteran from Chicago who's served in Iraq and done humanitarian work in dozens of conflict and natural-disaster zones, he's grown numb to the frequent sirens that are now a mainstay of life in Ukraine. Since Russia's latest invasion began in February of last year, he's traveled throughout the country, by train and van, to rural villages and the front, delivering supplies to those fighting at democracy's edge. His nonprofit group, Operation White Stork, makes no quibble about supporting Ukraine in the war. He's had his fill of messy wars and ambiguous purposes. He believes this is it, the real deal, the righteous cause that people of action always not-so-secretly crave.

Even altruists need sleep, though. So McNulty, forty-five, lay on his bed, shut his eyelids, and focused, as much as he could, on rest. Then came a strident hum. It cut through the sirens, then over them, braying and obnoxious, like a great lawn mower in the sky. It kept nearing and nearing. Then it passed directly over McNulty's hotel.