With the enemy at the gates

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In the hottest spot on the Donbas front, civilians know the Russians are about to arrive and fear reprisals

Cars struggle through the secondary road between Kostiantynivka and Bakhmut. They are 27 kilometers straight into the heart of a battle that began in the summer in which the enemy advances meter by meter into the heart of Donbas. The fog is a wall, it looks like snow that you have to shovel away in order to progress. This rural road is now the highway used by the military and volunteers to access the epicenter of the battle. As you head east, you’ll see less and less cars and more and more destruction.

When there are no more vehicles, the road becomes eternal and every kilometer takes an eternity. The fog darkens as it collides with the black soil of the chernozems, that fertile soil ideal for growing grains that rebels against the desolation of the past year, encroaching on what little asphalt remains and turning it into a swamp.

After 20 kilometers, you should stop at Chasiv Yar, a municipality belonging to Bakhmut district, which currently marks the border of the Ukrainian-controlled territory. From here, only weapons that don’t stop roaring speak. From this point on, the Ukrainians hit the enemy hard and every artillery hit shakes the ground. It doesn’t stop. It doesn’t stop.

The press is not welcome. A wild-eyed neighbor prepares pork skewers on a makeshift grill in the doorway of a half-destroyed building. He approaches the newcomers with a kitchen knife in hand and can barely keep his balance because of the ice. “A few days ago some photographers came and then the Russians attacked us and I lost my two cars. Go away you bastards!” There is fear of speaking out, fear of current fighting and possible future Russian reprisals if Ukrainian troops lose more ground. The handover of hands can happen at any time.

Here the war reports of the Ministry of Defense are not followed because they contain first-hand information. They are protagonists of this battle for Donbas. Another day, the General Staff indicated that Russia “continues to attack the positions of the Ukrainian troops” around Bakhmut, but denied that the Russian mercenary group Wagner had taken Yahidne, northwest of the city. As stated by the spokesman of the armed forces in eastern Ukraine, Serhiy Cherevaty, “battles are taking place in seven points adjacent to Bakhmut.” Points like Chasiv Yar.

Terror is possible with the few inhabitants who have remained in this part of Chasiv Yar and you have to venture into the deserted streets of this city, which had a population of 20,000 before the war, to find some warmth. The Punkt Nezlamnosti (Meeting Place) has become the place where those who have decided to ignore the authorities’ call for evacuation go. Here they can surf the internet and, if there is petrol for the generator, charge their mobile phones and cook thanks to a wood-burning stove with a sign on it.

Lubov cooks potatoes, makes soup and tea on the stove that presides over the Punkt Nezlamnosti. This old library has become a haven for life, a building where the neighbors see each other’s faces, greet each other and celebrate living another day. “I dream of cooking borsch (beetroot soup) and goulash (meat stew) or preparing desserts, but now we can only cook potatoes, there is nothing else,” says Lubov, while Ludmila shines a flashlight on the potato dish.

Both friends then share a menu at one of the long tables in the center, but they wait for some gasoline to arrive for the generator so they can eat under the light of the light bulb. Then they will return to their homes to live at night. «My great-grandson’s name is Arthur and he is 8 years old. It’s been a long time since he dated his parents. I was born here, my husband was born here and we are not leaving. It is better to die on your land than to starve as a refugee in an unknown place,” Ludmila thinks.

The icy landscape of the street melts from the warm effect of the firewood. Only the explosions slip through the lined windows. “We don’t really care at the moment whether they are shot down by our artillery or whether they belong to the Russians. We live with fear embedded in our bodies and it is impossible to get used to it,” confesses Vladimir, a former employee at the local refractory material factory, a factory that “It was the largest in the USSR,” he proudly recalls.

The time in this Punkt Nezlamnosti is a hook in a life marked by death. Outside, the war is knocking on the doors of this Bakhmut district. The artillery does not stop. It doesn’t stop.

Source: La Verdad

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