Mace knows that speed counts here, and he weaves in and out of the anti-tank barricades that are strewn along the roads, gunning the engine as soon as we clear the concrete blocks and berms of dirt. He takes me to the front in a Е koda station wagon, roaring down country back roads at 100-plus miles an hour, blasting techno as the foliage whips past in a blur. His face is that of a young man, but the salt-and-pepper hair hidden beneath his field hat and his calm self-possession amid chaos reveal he is a seasoned veteran who saw his share of combat before the current invasion. Mace is soft-spoken and cordial, lean and fit as an endurance athlete. IвЂ™ve called in favors with the commander of a reconnaissance company in an air-assault brigade, and he links me up with an officer whose elite scout unit is operating near intense fighting outside a town called Lyman, a senior lieutenant who goes by the nom de guerre вЂњMace.вЂќ A Ukrainian paratrooper will lead the way. To truly understand what is going on - to get a sense of morale and see how the soldiers are holding up under Russian assault, I must descend into the inferno, and I need a guide. But can the Ukrainian military hold out long enough for any of it to make a difference? It cannot win the war without game-changing foreign-military assistance: American heavy artillery, Danish anti-ship missiles, German air-defense systems - these are slowly making their way to the battlefield. But it is sacrificing thousands of its finest soldiers and still losing ground. But itвЂ™s clear that Russia is inching forward, each day bringing it closer to its goal of annexing the provinces of Luhansk and Donetsk and cementing the region under MoscowвЂ™s rule. IвЂ™ve heard conflicting reports about what is happening here, about whether the Ukrainian military is collapsing or the Russians are succeeding in breaking through the defenderвЂ™s lines, cutting off thousands of soldiers.

The casualties on the Russian side are almost certainly even higher, according to Ukrainian defense officials. IвЂ™m in eastern Ukraine in late May, in a region called Donbas, where the war has become a whirlwind of carnage that is claiming the lives of as many as 100 Ukrainian soldiers a day. We coast through the invisible barrier separating the вЂњfrontвЂќ from the вЂњrear,вЂќ then floor the gas and accelerate forward. They wave us through solemnly, without smiles or chatter. The Ukrainian soldiers manning the last friendly post have a singular focus and intensity thatвЂ™s lacking behind the lines. NEAR LYMAN, Ukraine - Crossing the final checkpoint into a battle zone feels like a consecration.

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