I remember it as if it was yesterday. I was woken up by a call from my wife’s parents, who were living in Kiev at the time. They were both born in the city and were around to witness the collapse of the USSR and the establishment of an independent Ukraine. That morning, they awoke early. My father-in-law, Igor, is a retired airline pilot. He was meant to fly out to New York that day for his regular flight simulator training but received a text overnight, saying that his flight had been cancelled. That was the first sign of things to come. The tension that they had all been feeling in the months coming up to that day was beginning to reach new heights.
“They’re here…it’s happening… we’re being bombed.” Igor and his wife Olena barely got to finish their first cup of morning coffee as the air raid sirens started to blare in the distance. Then, shortly afterwards, they heard explosions. It was hard to tell how close the shooting was, or what munitions were being used but the force of the blasts was powerful enough to make their windows shudder.
This was all too surreal, too sinister to believe. The bombings started at 4 a.m. on the 24th of February 2022. Putin anticipated Kyiv to fall within 3 days. Hitler had started bombing Kyiv at the same exact time on the 22nd of June 1941, and anticipated to see German tanks in the city within 3 days…
“There was shock, the fear of the unknown, but the panic hadn’t set in yet. We couldn’t get our heads around how this could be happening in the 21st century, how this could be happening to us. And the dawning realization that our country would no longer have a generation that hasn’t been affected by the horrors of war.”
The couple waited for about an hour, as the persistent shelling continued around them. They listened to the sounds of their beloved city being blown to pieces, and it felt like their plans, hopes, and their entire lives were being shattered to smithereens too. Then, as an act of desperation and to cling to some form of normalcy they decided to take their dog for a walk. The dog, a Shiba Inu named Akihiro normally calm, and friendly was extremely anxious, and unsettled as if sensing the troubles ahead.
After descending eighteen flights of stairs (the lift in their apartment block was no longer working) they were met with a post-apocalyptic scene. In spite of early morning here were traffic jams in all directions as thousands of people scrambled to get out of the city, while others were trying to get back to the city in order to join their loved ones, to make sure they were ok. The panic was palpable in the air. Some cars were trying to cut through the fields whizzing close by the dog owners who were trying to hold onto their dogs so that they would not get run over. Despite what they had witnessed, they decided to continue their walk. Panic is highly contagious – it is important not to succumb to it before it is too late.
When they got to the dog park, they were met by other dog owners. The emotions were mixed – some were crying, some were trying to remain optimistic and making jokes about those fleeing the city: “Surely the Russians wouldn’t target civilians. It will only go on for a few days and we can wait it out while the politicians figure it out amongst themselves.”
Everything seemed unreal, and far from their everyday routine. Even the dogs seemed to sense their owner’s mood and were just standing passively by their side showing no desire to want to play with each other. The walk ended abruptly following several powerful explosions somewhere not too far away. It was later revealed that the target was a military base 10km away from their location. It was becoming increasingly clear that the old world, as they knew it, had come to an end.
The full realization of the scale of what had happened, however, only hit them that evening, after watching the news broadcast. At about 5 p.m. the shelling outside intensified, then a large formation of Russian gunships flew past their windows in the direction of Hostomel, where an international airport Antonov was located – a strategic target for the Russian army, which hoped to use it as a base for their main attack on Kyiv. All of those helicopters, along with a large number of elite paratroopers were later destroyed by the Ukrainian military, which was one of the pivotal moments that turned the tide in the early days of the war.
Around that time several apartment blocks and a school were hit by Russian rockets. It had become clear that the Russian army wasn’t just aiming at specific military targets, or they were just missing them.
“There will be civilian casualties. It looks like there are going to be a lot of victims… This is war.”
As the newly introduced curfew approached, Igor and Olena had just one question on their minds: “Are we staying, or leaving? Are we panicking, or are we making a calculated decision based on the best available evidence?” After a quick deliberation, they realised that they did not really have a single sensible reason to stay. They grabbed their documents, their dog and set off on a long car journey. The only clothes they had were the ones they were wearing when they left. They did not have time to pack anything else. There was also a parrot, but it stayed.
Their split-second decision turned out to be correct as an hour after they escaped the city all the main roads and bridges connecting Kyiv to the outside world were destroyed by Russian artillery, and ballistic missiles, blocking thousands of people inside. They had to constantly change the route of their travel. They used GPS, but the main lifesaving source of traffic information was coming from the local radio stations, which were constantly updating their listeners about traffic jams, as well as areas of the most severe bombardments, as well as ground movements of the Russian troops. The first several hours of the car ride happened in total silence, apart from the faint crackle of the unfolding news on the radio. They wanted to cry but felt unable to, paralyzed by the realization of what they had just left behind. All that lay ahead of them was a cold February night and uncertainty.
Everyone was driving very cautiously, going out of their way to be polite to the other drivers, acutely aware of the value of a vehicle at that moment. They drove in a column of cars as no one wanted to be left alone on a deserted country road in the middle of the night. Nobody wanted to stop for a break, it was too dangerous. Nobody wanted to be separated from the column. There were families with small children, nobody wanted to take any chances. At one point the column came to a standstill because a driver of the car in front saw something suspicious, which looked like a landmine in the middle of the road, and just stopped paralyzed with fear. Igor’s car was just behind him, so he drove around the object narrowly missing the ditch hence showing the way to the other cars. Even the dog seemed to understand, sitting calmly in the back seat. The drive that would normally take 9 hours now took approximately 30. They arrived at their destination on the evening of day two.
The new reality came with the dawn of Day 2. No one felt safe even being hundreds of miles from Kyiv. Igor told his wife:
“Keep looking at the sky. If you see something unusual up there, either flying, or leaving a trail shout immediately!”
He had been driving nonstop up until then. They were lucky – they only saw a handful of low-flying planes during their journey, but none of them had any identifiable signs on them. It was scary…
By lunchtime the next day, many of the country’s main motorways were either blockaded or destroyed.
They arrived at their destination on the evening of day two. They chose to drive to Zakarpattia Region in the west of the country as it felt far enough away from what was happening in Kyiv. There were no sirens there, no explosions, no Russian fighter jets, no ballistic missiles flying overhead. It was still their homeland, their Ukraine. On the surface, everything still looked the same, but a lot has changed in those first two days. The most striking was the change in people around them – the way they looked at you, the camaraderie, their desire to help each other, their determination to go and fight for their homeland.
Igor and Olena had no friends or relatives in Western Ukraine. No one was waiting for them there. In the months preceding the Russian invasion there had been a build-up of tension as Russian troops were accumulating at the border, so a lot of people had moved to the safer western regions of the country to the relative safety. The local hotel rooms were also filling up quickly with the new arrivals – the couple was forced to spend several days living out of their car and hugging their dog at night in order to keep warm. Luckily, local food shops were still open, and they even managed to get some dog food there.
“We never panicked really. We just felt empty and so, so tired. Like, constantly-needing-to-sleep tired. But, of course, you can’t sleep because every time you close your eyes you start to shake from the stress because your nervous system is overloaded. For the first week I don’t think I got more than 2 hours’ sleep in one go. And we were just at the beginning of that long dark tunnel”
Shortly after their arrival they popped into a local pet shop and discovered that there was a shortage of vets in the area. Olena started phoning local volunteer organisations, and offering to help with local animals, as well as pets of the refugees arriving at the area. She had been trained as a vet, and a dog trainer in her youth. Also, she was a well-known cat breeder, and had been running quite a successful business before the start of the invasion.
She often says that “when you help an animal, you help its owner. When people are fleeing from danger it is a stress, but when something is happening to their pet then that stress goes off the charts.”
Olena quickly discovered that it was not just animals that needed her services; their owners were also in need of some form of psychological help. Somehow people were willing to open up to someone who were nice to their furry friends. Some of them needed to be told to get on with it, some needed a listening ear, some needed a hug, and non-judgemental silence. Everyone was hurt, and damaged in some way, and Elena quickly discovered another talent within her, which was in high demand at that moment of time.
Her volunteer work was quickly paid off by an unexpected offer of a place at a local primary school. The facilities were very basic but, importantly, it had central heating, hot water and a small kitchen, where volunteers and chefs prepared meals from the products brought in by locals. After a few days living in a car, it felt like Paradise! Even the dog seemed to enjoy the fact that he did not have to go back to the cold and cramped “kennel on wheels”.
“We couldn’t believe we could finally lie down and stretch our legs out. It makes you appreciate the basics like warmth and safety so much more after going through that.”
Olena and Igor stayed there for a while, watching the war unfold on their screens. They kept themselves busy with volunteer work – there was no shortage of demand for that. By the end of the first week, it was becoming clear that the primary school was not equipped to house 70 adults and several pets. Dogs were staying with cats in same rooms. In some of the small rooms, there were 20 people sleeping on small cots. In others, they had to sleep on the floor. Despite the difficulties, there was a strong camaraderie among the refugees. Everyone was involved in everyday routines of shopping, tidying up, cleaning, and cooking. As a gratitude for the opportunity to stay at the place, and to make it more liveable Igor and Olena decided to fix the place up – from installing new plumbing to painting the walls.
Many men of conscription age tried to get their families across the border to safety, so that they could join the military without worrying about their loved ones. Most of their wives did not know how to drive, so men were trying to give them crash (literally) courses on the nearby fields before taking them to the border. They would then leave their cars to them so that they would have some independent means of transportation. Igor was teaching Olena on that field too. It was one of the powerful images that they remember vividly – a vast field full of cars nearly crashing into each other. Men teaching their wives and older children how to drive before going to war…
“Men, without waiting for their conscription letters, were leaving their wives and children in a safe place and returning voluntarily to the front lines. We later found out that many ended up in combat zones without any equipment. For a while, they were struggling with basics like helmets and bulletproof vests. There wasn’t enough armour to protect everyone who wanted to fight for their country.”
Some people, like Igor and Olena were staying at the school for longer; yet some would just stay for a night or two on their way to the border. There was a lot of human pain, a lot of loss that Olena was dealing, and helping others deal with. Some people needed a one-off conversation, yet others needed several weeks of “therapy”.
On the eighth day of the war, Igor’s father passed away. He had been bedbound and unable to leave Kyiv following a stroke. Igor’s mother and older sister had stayed behind to look after him. As the city had been blockaded by Russian forces, Igor wasn’t even able to attend his own father’s funeral.
“The pain of another loss…We have just begun recovering from losing our home, and now my father is dead. It is like a boxing match – you sustain a blow, after a blow, but have to get up and continue fighting until you win or get KOed.”
“I think this war is going to go on forever.” By the end of the third week of the war, the sirens reached Zakarpattia Region. There was minimal bombing, but now and again you could hear faint gunshots in the distance.
After his father’s death, Igor and Elena found that they had nothing keeping them in Ukraine any longer. So, they decided to move on, towards Europe. Igor lost his job when the war started, but he did not want to lose his pilot’s license. He needed to get to the States for that simulator training.
“A new life? Sure. But you have to start from scratch and we’re both almost 60…”
As of right now, Igor and Olena are safe. They are living in Germany but have no long-term plans and prefer not to talk about what happened to them. Olena still can’t recall what happened to her without crying. They say the worst burden is the guilt they feel for being alive and physically unharmed. War is a very personal hell for each individual. It will take Igor and Olena – and thousands like them – time to heal. For now, all we can do is give them the time and space they need to recover and listen to their stories when they’re ready to tell them.