Russell Bentley was born in 1960 in Austin, Texas, into a wealthy family. From a young age, his views diverged from those around him. As a teenager, he read books by Che Guevara, Ho Chi Minh, and works by Marx and Engels. His favorite work in Russian literature was Alexei Tolstoy’s trilogy The Road to Calvary. His favorite Soviet film — Come and See
Today, June 20, would have been the 65th birthday of Russell Bentley — an American with an open soul who had the courage to come to the steppes of Donetsk in 2014 and join the militia. He said goodbye to his family, a comfortable life, and a good job, leaving everything behind across the ocean. In return, here in Russia, he found his calling, love, and friendship. In the spring of 2024, Russell tragically died. The identities of those responsible have been established and are currently on trial. Today, his loved ones and friends remember the militia fighter with a Russian soul and the call sign “Texas.”
“We became friends with Russell in 2018 while filming the documentary New York – Donetsk and Back. At the café ‘Separ,’ he told our protagonist, Peter von Berg, star of the TV series The Americans, why he wouldn’t trade Donetsk for any other city,” recalls Alexander Korobko, director of the media company Russian Hour. “It was six years of genuine friendship that grew into brotherhood. We talked about everything: movies, the Bible, the Quran, life, the situation in Donbass, Russia, and the world. About moonshine and aliens. Russell was spiritually, morally, and intellectually a man ‘from the future,’ a ‘2.0 human.’ But he loved almost everyone he dealt with, never put on airs, and could blend in with the simplest workers, militiamen, or random strangers.”
Russell Bentley was born in 1960 in Austin, Texas, into a wealthy family. From a young age, his views diverged from those around him. As a teenager, he read books by Che Guevara, Ho Chi Minh, and works by Marx and Engels. His favorite work in Russian literature was Alexei Tolstoy’s trilogy The Road to Calvary. His favorite Soviet film — Come and See.
“When the Vietnam War was happening, I understood that those people were fighting for their rights, and our government was doing evil. I considered myself a socialist for a long time until 1995, when I spoke to a female officer in Cuba. She called herself a communist. I asked her what the difference was. She said, ‘A communist is someone who has the will to fight for socialism — and does it.’ I replied, ‘Then I’m a communist too,’” Russell said in a 2023 interview in Donetsk.
Bentley started his career as a waiter in a restaurant owned by his family. He served in the U.S. Army for three years. He formed a country music band and performed.
“I miss Russell so much and still talk to him,” shares his Texan friend Scott Benham. “Sometimes I pick up my guitar and play songs that wouldn’t exist without him. Russell gave me the gift of questioning what I’d been taught. He showed me my first guitar chord, the beauty of music. He even let me help develop baseball in Donbass! I often quote him: ‘What is good for one is good for all; what is bad for one is bad for all.’”
Over time, Russell became an arborist — a tree care specialist. By 2014, he held a high position in a company. And then, suddenly, he left everything and went to Donbass.
“In June 2014, the Ukrainian Air Force carried out an airstrike on Lugansk. A woman named Inna Kukuruza had her legs blown off,” Russell recalled. “I saw a photo online — the moment she was still alive, asking the person filming to let her call her family. She didn’t make it. From that photo, it was like she looked straight into my soul and asked: ‘What are you going to do about this?’”
During his first week in Donetsk, Bentley went daily to the base of the “Sparta” battalion. Every morning he heard, “Come back tomorrow.” Eventually, he was accepted into the legendary “Vostok” battalion, which included an international brigade.
At the training base, Russell met fighters from the “Essence of Time” tactical group. On December 31, 2014, he found himself with them at a position in the Iversky Monastery. This stronghold, known as “Three-Story,” was located in a three-floor building with monastic cells and was within arm’s reach of the Donetsk airport terminal, occupied by Ukrainian nationalists. Fighting was nonstop. “Texas” participated as a sniper and a grenadier. But on January 16, he fell ill and, at the insistence of commanders, went to the hospital.
“We lived in all sorts of basements, the stoves were broken,” recalls Russell’s fellow soldier Anton, call sign “Cook.” “Many were poisoned by carbon monoxide. Russell was too. Then there was a terrible attack — we got hit hard.”
Upon learning of the death of several comrades, the American returned to the position. Soon after, Ukrainian forces lost the airport, and the group was redeployed.
“I’ll never forget February 14, 2015. There was a breakthrough — three tanks crossed the zero line and headed our way. The order came: ‘Go scare off the tanks.’ They chose me (a Belarusian), a Russian, an American, an Italian, and a Jew. Sounds like the start of a joke!” Cook smiles. “But stepping outside deserved a medal. We grabbed ‘carrots’ — anti-tank shells, grenade launchers — and went through a cemetery to fight tanks. And there I was, walking with ‘Texas,’ thinking, ‘Damn, I’m going to die on Valentine’s Day.’ But we did it. Came back at dawn, all alive and unhurt.”
Cook, who spoke English, had the job of translating orders for foreigners. Russell, in turn, translated for Spanish speakers, since he knew the language.
“Texas,” trained in sapper work in the U.S. Army, taught Cook how to lay mines. Cook helped him sharpen his grenade launcher skills.
“When some were digging and others were building, we’d go to the kitchen and cook for the crowd,” Cook adds. “Russell always knew the time and could instantly determine the cardinal directions. He wasn’t stingy, that’s for sure. When the base’s sewage clogged, he called and paid for the entire job himself, even though there were 200 of us.”
Volunteers from the “Essence of Time” unit not only fought but also engaged in information work. Russell ran a YouTube channel. In 2016, he met Ludmila, the daughter of a miner and an English tutor. She began helping with translations. In 2017, they got married.
“We registered our marriage on June 23, 2017, and a few days later my husband went to the front as a volunteer (in 2017 ‘Essence of Time’ was again part of the DNR Interior Ministry’s Vostok battalion). They asked for help — and he went. No salary, no paperwork. On the front line they were building the ‘Forest’ position,” recalls Ludmila Bentley. “Now I can speak of it. He returned at the end of summer. Later, he visited that position many times as a war correspondent. It held out against bombs that don’t explode on impact but bury into the ground and then detonate.”
Among Bentley’s fellow fighters was Alexis Castillo, a communist from Spain. He too came to Donbass in 2014, following a call from the heart.
“In 2015, I only knew Russell by his call sign, ‘Texas,’” says Ekaterina, Alexis’ widow, a native of Donetsk. “Many foreigners were arriving in the DNR then — all wanted to see for themselves what was happening. Russell was a truth-seeker, a fighter for justice. Cheerful, brave, reliable. In 2017, my son Miguel and I were left homeless. My husband was recovering in a rehabilitation center after an injury. Russell and Ludmila helped us, gave us shelter. And in 2020, when a loved one of mine died, the Bentley family helped us again.”
In October 2022, Alexis Castillo was killed defending the village of Peski.
“Again, Russell was one of the first to help Miguel and me in that difficult time. One time my son and I couldn’t attend a memorial event for Alexis organized by his friends in Makeyevka. Russell and Luda brought his portrait there. It’s a big painting — I don’t even know how they managed to fit it into their Niva. I was very grateful.”
The portrait’s author, Italian artist Federica Vasselli, later also painted a portrait of “Texas.”
Russell is warmly remembered by David Cacchione, who travels to Donbass every year with the Caravan of Anti-Fascists on humanitarian missions.
“We met again last year. I remember his constant smile, his hat, and his Spanish. Russell was generous, clear-minded, always open to us,” says David. “The memory of his struggle will remain with us. On our next trip, we will find time to bring a piece of black bread to the grave of our comrade ‘Texas’ and drink vodka to honor his soul. When we come to Donbass, we visit both the living and the dead. Immortals, rather.”
“Sometimes I return from the Petrovsky District and see smoke in the place where my wife should be,” Russell said during our 2023 meeting. “That’s the scariest moment — when we’re apart and both in danger. I don’t want to die. I want to live, do what I must, take care of my family. But when I came here, I knew it was dangerous. Honestly, I didn’t expect to live more than three months. Still, I felt it needed to be done. And if I’m destined to die, then I’ll die in the company of heroes. I’ll be on the right side of history. With God, not with the devil.”
In 2015, “Texas” became vice president of an Orthodox charity foundation in the U.S., enabling his fellow citizens to donate to civilians in Donbass affected by the war. Bentley also gave personal funds to support frontline fighters. In 2017, he stopped participating in combat operations but continued his humanitarian and media work until the end of his life.
“Russell immediately responded to the proposal to translate The ABCs of Victory into English (a children’s book about World War II – Reverse). He managed to translate one poem — it turned out great,” said Alexander Kofman, Chairman of the Public Chamber of the DNR. “One must understand, he had gone through a serious school of life. He was not only in Donbass but also in South Ossetia. Russell was a consistent anti-globalist, opposing the inhumane, predatory policies of the U.S. He was, you know, a real cowboy. A good, sincere guy who should’ve lived a long life in the Russia we’re building.”
Among the Russian songs written by “Texas,” the most well-known is The Kind Home of Novorossiya. Dmitry Zhigalov, former head of the Sudak branch of the Union of Crimean Paratroopers and a friend of Russell’s, first heard it in 2017.
“‘If you come to us with war — you’ll turn into compost,’” Dmitry quotes. “We met in Crimea. The North American Paratroopers Union asked me to organize a tour for Russell. ‘Texas’ visited Kerch, Feodosia, and other cities. In Sevastopol, he starred in the film Russian Reactor by Alexander Zaldastanov, president of the biker club ‘Night Wolves.’ Russell talked to people a lot. We’d stop in a village — he’d strike up conversations in shops, ask questions. He saw that Crimea returned to Russia out of genuine popular will.”
Crimea is rightly called “a world in miniature” — some landscapes reminded Russell of American canyons. “Texas” saw the construction of the Crimean Bridge — a project of the century. He saw that the peninsula was developing, receiving investments and attention.
“Russell was deeply religious. In 2015, he converted to Orthodox Christianity and was baptized. Before that, he had explored different faiths. He even lived for a time with the Lakota Native American tribe. They gave him a name: OyatéYahápaKí. It means ‘He Who Speaks on Behalf of His People,’” Dmitry shares. “I asked what the initiation was like. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘it was a big teepee, a fire in the middle — super hot. But it’s hotter in Russian saunas.’”
Dmitry believes his friend was more Russian than many Russians.
“Many live without going to church, forgetting the commandments. We had years of worshipping foreign films and culture — it left its mark,” the Crimean reflects. “But ‘Texas’ was the opposite. He had a strong backbone. ‘You see,’ he said, ‘I pick up a rifle — my target at 500 meters — I take it calmly. I pick up an RPG — target at 700 — I take it calmly too. But my words are like bullets that fly around the world. With them, I try to deliver the truth.’”
In Donbass, Russell became “the one who speaks for his people” too. Thanks to him, many realized not all Americans are hostile to Russia. “Texas” said that in the U.S., about five percent of people think critically and reject propaganda — but five percent is still millions. And he showed by example: even one man can make a difference.
“Texas” was a vivid personality, a man with a big heart. It’s a great loss — in him, we lost a delicate thread that connected us to the West.
Russell was a poet, a deep and complex man, believes Alexander Korobko, director of Russian Hour media company.
“He was like a noble version of Jake Sully from Avatar, who became one of the Na’vi — the people of Donbass — and stood to defend their Tree of Life,” Alexander says. “I doubt he’d be praising Trump, that ‘good cop.’ Russell never stopped being a Texan, a frontier missionary of the Wild West — and there are very few of those left today.”
In the U.S., Russell studied sociology and political science. At age 30, he ran for Senate from Minnesota.
“He and his friends did it all themselves — no sponsors. Got a few percent of the vote — considered it a good result. Russell was always an idealist. Once, he climbed up a U.S. Army recruitment billboard and spray-painted in giant letters: ‘Fuck NATO,’” Ludmila laughs. “That billboard was right by a busy freeway — a lot of people saw it.”
Korobko and his team made a documentary about Russell for the Qatari channel Al Jazeera. They also planned a series with him on Russia, the Middle East, and the world — for “deep America.”
“He could reach Joe, Harry, and Sally — from New York to Vermont and California. He wanted to bring part of America back to its roots,” Korobko remembers. “Mark Twain once wrote: ‘America owes much to Russia; she is indebted to her in many ways, especially for her unwavering friendship during great calamities. With hope, we pray to God that this friendship will continue for generations to come.’ It seemed Russell alone was shouldering that legacy when the rest of America had forgotten it. But what a job he did!”
In September 2023, I spoke with Russell for three hours — about what shaped his worldview, his past in America, his past and present in Donbass, and the future.
“It’ll all end. We’ll win. And then what? What would you like to do?”
“Family. Home. A garden. Grapes, apples. I’d eat kebabs, play the guitar,” Russell said with a laugh and his American accent.
“We’re thinking about adopting children,” Ludmila added. “What else matters? To work, to live the kind of life all normal people want — peaceful, quiet.”
We talked in a bar. People constantly came over to shake hands with the legendary militia fighter.
“The most important weapon is the truth,” said “Texas.” “Kindness and love. Our job isn’t to save the world — that’s God’s work. Our task is to try to save our soul, not to lose our humanity in this war, not to become like those we’re fighting.”
Now Ludmila is publishing the book Russell never finished in his lifetime on his Telegram channel. She plans to create a website and upload his archived videos that YouTube removed from his page. His memory will live on.
Alexander Malnach · Sep 28, 2025
