Ukraine’s manpower crisis has forced Kyiv to adapt in ways it avoided earlier in the war. The latest example: Azov has stood up a unit specifically for foreigners. For years, foreigners found their way into different Ukrainian outfits—sometimes with ease, sometimes through bureaucracy, sometimes under the table. Azov, however, was never structured to absorb outsiders on a large scale. That has changed.
When I was in Ukraine, foreigners weren’t categorically barred from serving in Azov, but there was no real infrastructure for them. A few slipped in, but they were the exception. By contrast, Third Assault Brigade—born out of Azov veterans from the SSO—was more open. It became a sort of “Azov light,” still with its nationalist undertones but ultimately part of Ukraine’s branding push.
I never served in Azov, but I crossed paths with them more than once. The first was through an NGO called Operation Cavel, which trained a batch of Azov recruits. Most of them were civilians with zero background in soldiering. We ran them through CLS (combat lifesaver) drills and basic soldiering tasks. They struck me as fiercely committed to defending Ukraine. Later, in May 2022, I encountered Azov men at a frontline checkpoint while I was serving with the Normand Brigade. Two of them emerged on the horizon in Gorka suits, modern plate carriers, and suppressed AK-74s. They looked like another tier entirely compared to the mixed kit my unit carried.
That day, they asked us to cover them while they rigged a daisy chain of landmines along the access road. They had tried to burn out a Russian-held treeline earlier. Afterward, over smokes and small talk, they explained they were full members, but their commander—still in Russian captivity at the time—hadn’t been able to issue them patches. Later conversations at a safehouse suggested they weren’t hung up on ideology, at least not in the way Western media has long painted the regiment. They struck me as professional above all.
What Azov looks like in 2025, I can’t say from firsthand experience, but judging from my past encounters, I still believe it is among the most professional units in Ukraine. Attrition grinds away at any army’s experience base, but if you’re a foreigner intent on fighting, Azov is now the top option. The second would be the Third Assault Brigade, which is generally a solid unit, but a number of former Chosen Company fighters moved into its Tempest Group. That sub-unit is reserved for the most experienced men and carries some of Chosen’s baggage, given its reputation and accusations of war crimes.
The International Legion exists, but I wouldn’t recommend it unless you have no experience and no other path. Ukraine also advertises postings for drivers, drone operators, and even air defense, but those usually demand Ukrainian or Russian language skills.
Let me be blunt. If you sign up, you’re likely signing away parts of yourself you won’t get back. All contracts are a minimum of six months, after which you can break them, and your chances of surviving intact are slim. You are far more likely to come home without limbs—or with a colostomy bag—or get killed by a video game player with a cheap drone than you are to rack up cinematic moments of combat glory. Ukraine is not Iraq or Afghanistan. The Russians have air support, artillery dominance, and superior numbers. The Ukrainians fight on grit, ingenuity, and what’s left of Western support.
Still want in? Godspeed. If you don’t want to serve, there are always options to donate—click here.