klemo’s Story

People tell us "I can’t believe you guys bet the farm on Ukraine like that"
  — hold up a sec, not exactly like that — on Americans fighting in Ukraine.

I owe my life to a good friend and once a battle buddy: black Alabama native, MSG (Ret.) klemo.

I medically retired in 2000. He completed his 20+ years and fully retired in 2020.
I was born in Soviet Ukraine. He met Ukraine in 2015, combat-training the legendary Azov
  — about a year into the russian invasion of Donbas.

This unit should ring a bell — путін — хуйло^[1] football hooligans russia went to 'denazify.'

Figure 1. Metalіst Kharkiv, 2014 — the match where путін — хуйло! was born. Full stadium.

 

Come February 24, 2022, my klemo barged into my house announcing
    "I’m saving the world! I’m going to Ukraine!"
He had a unique connection to Ukrainian ultras that I didn’t, despite being Ukrainian myself.

I did my darndest to talk the old soldier out of it.
"The hell you are, you dumb old goat! Your knees hurt — remember?!"
No luck. Soon my house was full of old grunts packing duffel bags.

US Army SF Group 10 — America’s best sons and daughters do the full tour never getting a katsap.
And now Ukraine opens season on katsap — in this unit people stopped counting year one.

I knew the International Legion Zelensky announced was not where I wanted my vets. And I knew they needed kit, armor, arms, pay, and logistics — expensive things we couldn’t just hand over. So Tania, little Anton, and I rolled up our sleeves and went begging past customers for handouts. That didn’t work. We got bandages, blankets, and undies — good for nothing rags.

Then someone offered to match on shares for our startup. They’d wanted the company for a long time. We accepted. That’s how we ended up all in — in return for operational logistics classes 1, 2, 3, 6, and 8. We launched the company. Gifted ex-marketing twins funded the continuous runway.

I didn’t talk about it, and I was also packing to go — a bad parent. Somehow, our kid knew it.

Luckily, God and Anton had other plans for us all.

Figure 2. Kuhay family is busy supporting Ukraine.

 

As we packed up and hastily sent off the retired SOCOM grunts, we were left with nothing to do and nothing left to do it with. Even the Marketing Fey — twin sisters, a boutique marketing company — left for war. For years the ladies had kept our corporate-lobotomy backlog full. Turns out the Fey are veterans too. They liquidated and bought in.

Having spent it all, we only had our time to give. The first months were crazy. Warehouse to warehouse, load point to load point, packing whatever could still go to Ukraine. Anton parted with his beloved 5.56 ammo collection:

"Daddy, can this get an orc?"
"Yes, son. In the right hands it will."

Figure 3. Anton’s own ammo detail for Ukraine.

 

All this labor had an unforeseen consequence for our little family. Anton was 4 when he lost his biological mother and unborn sister. Now he was pestering Tania and me, attempting to order a sister. I was told it was impossible for me. We hadn’t thought much about his sneaky plans. Little did we know the boy was committed, diligently praying — and those were not just his plans.

We’re pregnant. Daddy’s not going anywhere. Anton got what he wanted. He confessed to his "workable plan" succeeding all along. As proof, he presented his "bribing the storks" as evidence. Mama conceded to his logic: our selfless deeds would be rewarded — karma, why not. How can silly daddy argue with such solid reasoning?

Figure 4. Anton’s plan comes together. God + Storks + good prayer.

 

Khava is her real given name — Aramaic for "life," the actual name of Adam’s wife. Eve in English. Zoey in her passport. Born with a soft voicebox, completely healthy otherwise. Her first year was a struggle: breathing, eating, sleeping; watched 24/7. Zoey beat it all by month eighteen with daddy’s diligent overfeeding and her refusal to quit. Anton’s plan: a new sister here = old daddy home.

Little did I know the full meaning of "life" in her name at the time. Doctors were sure a natural child for us is not a probability — stork-bribing or not. And as the old Viking-Perun law goes — life cannot be created or removed — it can only be traded. And we had an early preview: determined, charismatic, violent, relentless little tomboy — neighbors call her "Little General," and she’s drilled her family since she started walking. The volia (воля) of her ancestors is strong in her blood.

Closure and Reckoning

In 2025, all American companies lost the channels — us included.
American business is not welcome in Ukraine, or anywhere in Europe for that matter.

August came in hot.

First: Tania’s mother, my mother-in-law, lost her life in a massive bombardment of her historic Ukrainian city. She was old and unable to negotiate all the stairs.

The day after her death, my old battle-buddy klemo "went out with a bang" — fallen in the heat of battle, as he had always wanted. He’d dreaded an old-age death in some hospice. His personal life in the USA had not worked out. No family, no children to speak of. The old gruntery was his family. Drinking in NCO clubs was not his idea of fun. His way to kick the bucket had to be spectacular.

And it was. Nothing left to collect.

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We have suffered one in seven casualties from our American veterans family. Half of them forever.

These people are our nation’s finest sons and daughters.

The half that recovers usually stays in the fight, helping in other ways they still can. For many, this war of independence became the highlight and definition of their whole lives.

Over the last five years, American veteran communities tightly merged with the Ukrainian Diaspora. Did you know — there are as many Ukrainians worldwide supporting Ukraine as there are in Ukraine? The amalgamation we see today forever changes the future of Ukrainian-American relations, regardless of governments. People-on-people connection is what defines a real alliance. (See Ukraine Replaces America.)

These Americans will come home one day full of real experiences and real knowledge — unlike couch GRU Project QAnon: Russia’s Greatest American Victory fables.

Don’t mind your local useful idiots. They’ll be forgotten. Some will be shamed by their own families, as we now see with MAGA. Mind yourself. We can only control ourselves.

And many have.

There’s no higher honor than risking one’s own life for the lives of others.

klemo believed that.

Freedom Isn’t Free! — collector

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1. "Putin is a dickhead" — lit. Putin + Slavic pejorative suffix for penis. Incorrectly translated in the West as "Putin Fuck-Off." Born March 2014 when Sect 82 — Metalіst Kharkiv’s ultras since 1982 — chanted it at Kharkiv street marches as russia invaded Donbas. Two months later, those same ultras co-founded Azov. Origin and spread; Ultras and the war.