“You never know if they’ll pick you up”: How a Russian fled from mobilization Plane crashes in Tanzania in Africa’s largest lake, killing at least 19

As they approached the Russian-Finnish border by car, they became nervous. Would the Finnish border guards stop them? Send them away and send them back to Russia? Or even file a report with the Russian authorities? Would they immediately put you on one of the buses that drove to frontline training camps? “We had already prepared every possible reason for our departure,” Anton, 37, said later. He was one of three who drove to the border in a dark Opel Astra. At least there wasn’t a long line when they arrived.

Anton is from Moscow and is one of the thousands of Russians who fled the mobilization. It is one of the most emotional issues in Russia in recent weeks, including for him. The 37-year-old is a father, a financial expert, a proud Muscovite and had no intention of leaving his homeland. But on September 21, the Kremlin announced that 300,000 reservists would be called up. The mobilization started the same day.

But now, at the end of October, Anton is at Unter den Linden in Berlin. It is sunny, unusually warm for the time of year. Next to him, families take pictures in front of the Brandenburg Gate and eat an ice cream. But he doesn’t feel like sightseeing. His thoughts are on whether he will get a long-term residence permit and whether his family can come to Berlin.

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The daughter thinks her father is on a business trip

“Berlin is an interesting city,” he says. “But I actually love my life in Russia.” He knows that not everyone likes the fact that all Russians take refuge here, while Russia is waging a war of aggression in Ukraine. But he agrees to tell his story.

During a walk, he describes how the Russian attack shocked him at first, but he assumed that after a few weeks, maybe months, it would all be over. Instead, the situation worsened. More and more attacks than mobilization. And finally the annexation of Ukrainian territories, he was already in Germany.

Relatives had urged him to leave weeks earlier, who knows what else could happen, they said. “It had to be,” says Anton now. He arrived in Germany on September 29. He writes to his wife as often as possible and regularly video chats with his six-year-old daughter. She thinks her father is on a business trip.

Many Russians are currently in the same situation as Anton. They don’t want to go to war. Rough estimates are of the hundreds of thousands who fled Russia before the mobilization. To the West, like Anton, or to Central Asia. Many fled to Turkey, others to Georgia – countries where Russian passport holders can enter visa-free.

The so-called partial mobilization was discussed again and again, but it still scared many people in the country. On the same day, prices for international air and train tickets skyrocketed. Long queues formed at border crossings, for example to Kazakhstan.

With the Brandenburg Gate behind him, Anton is now waiting in front of a pedestrian traffic light. Then the flow of people starts moving, he lets himself be carried away and tells how he scrolled through social media channels and read about people who left. He himself hesitated. “Moving an entire family is not that easy,” he says.

Several times at protests

Although he expected to be drafted. He also received an official draft message, albeit to the wrong address. Anton is healthy, of military age. He has military ID, like men get in Russia after taking some sort of basic military course. They are then automatically registered for the reserve.

In time, another thought occurred to him. In Moscow, there are many cameras in the streets and subways. “It occurred to me, what if they recognize me on it?” he says. He trusts his government to use such resources to find reservists. He feared it could be his downfall that he had taken to the streets seven or eight times since 2012. Relatives urged him on, friends asked if he would join them. So Anton kept scrolling through social media.

Finally, on Telegram, he found an IT specialist who also wanted to avoid mobilization. There was also a young woman who wanted to drive to France to save money and help the men abroad at the same time.

It went relatively smoothly with the three of us, Anton says, others were even sent back. Some, for example, turned back when they saw the long lines for the Kazakh border – and went into hiding. “We looked like friends on vacation and going on a road trip,” says Anton. In any case, they were just waved through at the border with Finland, the most critical point of the journey. “A quick look at our passports, that’s it.” The relief was great. Their prepared apologies that they were visiting relatives or on a business trip were unnecessary.

2,300 kilometers in three days

It went via Finland to Sweden and Denmark, partly by ferry and finally to Germany. 2300 kilometers in three days and two nights. In Hamburg they broke up.

Anton wanted to go to Berlin because he hoped to get by with English. He now continues to work as a financial specialist for an international company and his superiors are aware of his situation. Working from home is not a problem, says Anton. He found a terraced house via an internet portal.

Anton continues Unter den Linden. He speaks fluent English, only occasionally uses a word in Russian, apologizes and grins. He talks calmly and asks questions. Even himself, he argues with himself, it becomes clear. He does not want to reveal his full name. Who knows, he says. He fears reprisals if he returns. In front of the Russian embassy he sees the extensive shielding, where protests regularly take place.

Allies were taken away

He can understand the displeasure with Russia. But what can he do about his government, he asks. He demonstrated and saw fellow activists being taken away. “But what kind of handle do we have?” He looks helpless. “The repression in the country,” he says thoughtfully, “they work.”

The vast majority of people in Russia lead a life detached from politics. The principle applies: we leave politics alone and politics stays out of our lives. Anton was also able to reconcile with this for a long time. He had an income, family, friends, an apartment. He traveled the world, was in the US, in Europe. He went to the polls, but Anton eventually accepted that Putin doesn’t care much about elections. In fact, everything was fine with him. That, he says, can’t get out of his head now.

About a month after his escape, the so-called partial mobilization in Russia came to an end. Last week, the Kremlin announced that the 300,000 people had already moved in and that 87,000 of them were already in the combat zone. The others would receive further training, Putin’s spokesman Dmitry Peskov said. This message could signal those who have not yet withdrawn: it will not affect you, you have nothing to fear.

“It can start again in the spring”

Anton doubts. “Maybe enough recruits have actually been found for the war,” he writes on WhatsApp after the walk. “At least to hold the front to some extent”. But he doesn’t plan his return trip. Looking for long-term accommodation, he now rides around Berlin on one of the bicycles for hire on every corner. He suspects that the mobilization ‘could start again in the spring’. If the temperatures allow for a major offensive. There is talk in Russian independent media that they could be recalled after New Years. And: The end of the mobilization has not been officially sealed anyway.

Since Vladimir Putin has not yet signed a corresponding decree, this is not legally necessary, the Kremlin recently said. Human rights activists fear that the mobilization could continue insidiously. For Anton, the question is how the authorities will react if they register that he has left the country and re-entered.

Life in Russia is now very uncertain, he says. “You never know if they won’t find a reason to pick you up at home.”