🇮🇱Jim Holmes🇮🇱

Serhiy Kernytskyi spent 346 days on a frontline position near Chasiv Yar. During that time, he killed 23 Russian soldiers and captured 6 more alive. He deliberately let Russian troops come within 20 meters before opening fire — just to make sure he would not miss in close combat. The 24th Mechanized Brigade has nominated him for the title Hero of Ukraine. Throughout the entire year, Kernytskyi kept a video diary on an ordinary phone. He filmed assaults, trophies, and daily life on the position. There was almost no communication, but somehow the phone kept working. He charged it using batteries from captured Russian SPG grenade launchers. Hundreds of short videos survived: burning dugouts after Molotov attacks, captured rifles lined up in rows, ribs frying on a stove, fish soup boiling in a battered pot. Before the war he worked construction jobs in Khmelnytskyi region. He was mobilized on November 3, 2024. He thought he would spend three months at the position. Then maybe another six. It turned into almost a full year. Whenever he asked why they were not being rotated out, the answer was always the same: “There are no men left to send.” The position itself was a tiny dugout, three by four meters, near Chasiv Yar. Later it was unofficially named “Kernytskyi’s Position” in his honor. On the very first day, one of his comrades was killed when an artillery shell tore through the roof, leaving a hole nearly five feet wide. Kernytskyi’s close-combat tactic was brutal and simple: let the Russians come as close as possible, hit them with grenades, then finish the fight at point-blank range. Shooting blindly through bushes made no sense to him. “To make sure I don’t miss,” he said. “To know for certain I will take him down.” During winter he stood watch for two hours at a time because after the third hour his hands froze so badly he could no longer reload his rifle. He reinforced the dugout with dirt bags and captured body armor to stop shrapnel from flying inside. He hid the stove pipe far through the thorn bushes and covered it with branches so drones would not spot smoke from the air. He stopped asking commanders for ammunition, grenades, or even food. Everything came from dead Russian soldiers. Over time he collected 12 captured AK-12 rifles, body armor, a laser sight, rations, and cigarettes. By the end of January 2026, Kernytskyi was alone on the position. One comrade was killed by an FPV drone. Another — after nearly a year beside him — died from shrapnel that severed an artery. “In the morning we laugh together,” Kernytskyi said. “By evening they are already the heavenly guard. May the earth rest lightly on him.” When drones spotted a group of eight Russians moving to overrun the position, Serhiy burned all the sleeping bags, dismantled the captured rifles, and threw the firing pins far into the field so nothing useful would remain for the enemy. Then he slipped away alone into the darkness, moving like a turtle because his legs barely worked after repeated concussions. He could not evacuate the bodies of his fallen comrades. One he covered partially with dirt. The other remained inside the dugout. “I cannot forgive myself for that,” he said. “How do I explain it to their families? How do I look them in the eyes? It’s terrifying.” Now he is in a hospital. His legs no longer function properly after endless blast concussions and nearly a year on the frontline position. He says he never thought about awards and never expected one. “I just wanted to stay alive and see my family again. So my family could see me again. That was all I had left.”