On the Kyiv Express, an Unexpected Encounter

When traveling to Kyiv, there is only one way to go: the long way.

​With no airports open in Ukraine for international flights since the full-scale invasion in 2022, I usually fly into Warsaw and then catch the Kyiv Express—a sleeper train that departs in the late afternoon and arrives the next morning, just in time for lunch. A two-day trip, at best.

The express is not fancy by any means. The railcars are Soviet-era, and service is limited to a morning cup of tea or coffee—if you have cash. Ukrainian hryvnia is your safest bet, though this time the attendant accepted Polish zloty, which I had managed to withdraw from an ATM at the Warsaw train station. Once inside, the sleeper cars are comfortable enough, with decent bedding and warm blankets. The only real excitement comes at midnight: the double passport check at the border. First, the Polish border guards do their part in Chełm, and then the Ukrainian guards take over after the border is crossed. You definitely know when you’ve entered Ukraine.

Michael and Fr. Roman at Hotel Ukraine in Kyiv - June 11, 2025

​This particular trip, however, was very different for me. My compartment companion was on his way to join the International Legion For the Defence of Ukraine. An ex-British soldier who had served three tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan, Michael felt called to do his part in defending Ukraine. He was hoping to be trained and sent to the front.

What struck me most was how his primary concern wasn’t the danger ahead but simply finding the rendezvous point the next morning. The details provided to him had been sketchy at best. His only contact with the unit had been via someone on Telegram, and he was anxious he might miss them entirely. I was personally glad to have someone in the compartment who spoke English and liked to chat. We hit it off.

When we arrived in Kyiv, I introduced him to the Hotel Ukraine, where I was scheduled to have lunch with Fr. Roman Nebozhuk, a Ukrainian Catholic priest I had met through my mentor, Fr. Yaroslav Nalysnyk, in Boston. I invited Michael to join us, knowing that if anyone could help him find his contact the next morning, it was Fr. Roman.

Sure enough, Fr. Roman recognized the building in the picture from the Telegram chat and provided the details Michael needed to find his unit.

I heard from Michael this afternoon via WhatsApp. Not only had he found the International Legion, but he had also been accepted and was already in training.

I’m not entirely sure I helped him, since there is no greater danger than going to the frontlines as an infantry soldier. But Michael has tremendous experience and was excited to go. It seems to be a shared calling among those of us who come to Ukraine from the West. After lunch, Fr. Roman called us both brave and offered a prayer for us—but honestly, when I think of Michael, and especially the Ukrainian people who face daily attacks and sleepless nights under Russian drones and missiles, I feel like my own efforts pale in comparison.