Day 4

6am Alarm, we dressed and armored up and started our journey. Today my helmet felt so heavy that my neck muscles alone could not hold it up, instead it rested on the collar of the bulletproof vest. I'm not sure if it was just from wearing it one day or the extra weight of the previous day’s thoughts.

I got chills as we drove through a village that was completely destroyed. None of the buildings had roofs and what fences that remained were bullet ridden. Apparently before leaving the Russians drove tanks through buildings to ensure they would not be habitable.

We parked near a former kindergarten, long closed but with murals remaining. Again people quickly lined up to both cars. At first I rushed to sort and give as much as I could in order for people not to wait in line too long. As time went by, I realized that nobody minded waiting and in fact wanted to spend as much time as they could with us. ‍ A few people brought us tea and coffee and offered us shelter for the night.

It felt like we were their much needed connection to freedom and normalcy. The next couple of hours chatting with these ordinary people who had spent 9 months under occupation. All of them were saying how long they had waited to be liberated and were blessing their brave men.

A few things I won’t forget: — Elderly man who burst into tears when I asked him if he had anything to cook on. He returned to his wife laden with tinned food, bread, milk and toilet paper. — A 10 year old boy whose childhood was long behind him, needed food and diapers for his 10 month old brother. — Grandmother who was asking for adult diapers for her disabled and bedridden grandson ~20% of people who stayed did so because they had relatives who were unable to move. — Grandpa who brought us a bag of handmade socks that his wife was knitting while being under occupation. He wanted us to give it to fighters at front lines to keep them warm this winter. We still had some boxes left in the car when I heard a loud explosion. I turned to one of the soldiers who remained completely calm. He told us it was outgoing artillery and not something to worry about, although we should hurry up as usually return volley follows. When we started to wrap up, ‍ people were hugging us like we were family that they did not want to leave.

We gave away our last items and soldiers rushed me and my brother to the car. While driving away I thought about all those people we left behind, the emotions they were sharing with strangers and the horror of what they've been through. When we drove out of Kherson we had to go through a checkpoint. Just as we were pulling up I heard a loud whistling sound followed by an explosion.

The soldier screamed “Helmet on quickly!” and stepped on gas as 120mm artillery shell landed less 100 meters from our car. It was surreal, my heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to escape my chest as we accelerated over the bumpy road. I felt my body heat up and the stress made me freeze. I couldnot say a word. Instead I prayed. After 15 minutes which felt like a lifetime we slowed down when we were out of artillery range.

It turned out we had been only 3 km from the front line when the shell hit. As night approached, although shaken by what had happened, we still needed to visit one more village that had been liberated 10 days ago. I knew we had to do it, but now I counted seconds as we reapproached the front line. I had my eyes wide open as we could be accidentally mistaken for Russians and shot without even reaching our destination.Instead I prayed. After 15 minutes which felt like a lifetime we slowed down when we were out of artillery range.

I was under constant pressure while driving as I was responsible for navigating using maps which I had downloaded on my phone. Without cell coverage, I wasn't sure if they would work on the way back. It was critical that we took the same route out as we did in, since other roads are still mined and could have Russian ambushes. We overtook a Russian oil tanker with apprehension unsure of whether it was occupied. Fortunately it had been left behind in a hurry.

When we reached the village we were greeted by our hosts who had been waiting for us. This family was the sister of one of the soldiers, there were only 17 left in their village which normally had seventy. Their house was one of the few houses in the area that hadn’t been destroyed. I was expecting an airstrike at any moment. Our hosts told us how Russians were interrogating them and searching their houses even they would take electronics apart to find some kind of military connection. People had to bury old family photos in the garden so they can’t be found. In the event that Russians were suspicious, person would will be taken for interrogation and tortured.

We heard how Ukraininans were forced to get undressed, had their hands tied up behind them, blindfolded next to the wall and electrocuted or they would be set on the chair and have screws slowly turned into their knees. Most never return to their families. People adapted to live in those conditions, but for the person that came from safety it felt unsettling. They told me about fierce grandmothers that asked some Russians what the hell are they doing in Ukraine.

Those Russians were mobilized not so long ago. They answered as they wished they didn't have to fight, but if they retreated they would be shot by Chechens. ‍The Grannies asked why can’t they kill Putin if they are so against this war. They replied quietly that they are waiting for Ukrainians to do it.

We started our journey back to Kiev. I remember when we reached 30 km from the front line and were out of artillery range, I burst into tears after holding onto my emotions for so long. We drove home through the night.