In the Donbas, an invisible gulf between the Ukrainian military and civilians accused of 'waiting for Russia' (2024)

An invisible gap is opening up just behind the Ukrainian lines, as the Russian army and its bombing transformed the fields, forests and towns of the Donbas into a lunar landscape. The ordeal suffered by the local population had been going on for 870 days, and distrust was growing between the few civilians clinging to their homes and the growing number of soldiers taking up quarters in abandoned houses or rented out to fleeing owners.

Boris, a paunchy 52-year-old Ukrainian officer in charge of psychological and moral support in the 59^th motorized brigade, was convinced that "90% of the civilians still holed up in their bombed-out homes are pro-Russians." Not authorized to speak to the media, any more than the other soldiers quoted in this article, the camouflage-clad officer asked that his identity not be revealed. He chose his nom de guerre in reference to the former British prime minister, to whom he bears no resemblance.

At the wheel of his powerful, khaki-painted 4 × 4, the grizzled officer sped along a bumpy road in the Donbas. Two more bends and the road, lined with dense undergrowth, led to Hirnyk, a mining town with a population of 10,000 before the Russian invasion. Perched on a hill 10 kilometers from Russian positions, the town has been frequently fired upon. Hirnyk overlooks a plain where, through the smoke of the fighting, you can make out the outlines of Donetsk, once the regional capital, which fell under Russian control in 2014.

"No normal person can stand this kind of violence," said Boris, a native of Vinnytsia in the west of the country. "All the normal people left a long time ago. Those who are left are waiting for the Russians – I can't see any other explanation." There's one thing that really got him going: seeing children in this hellhole. "How can parents inflict this on them?" He recalled a recent incident, when a 12-year-old waved a middle finger at him in the street, in front of his pals. "I have no doubt about his parents' opinions."

Waiting for the Russians

His car swerved, narrowly avoiding a pothole deep enough to shatter a Lada chassis. At this distance from the Russian lines, it is prudent to listen out for a drone or the start of a bombing raid, but Boris turned up the radio to make his point. He scanned the FM frequencies. A dozen stations followed one another. All played Russian or Soviet variety music (forbidden on Ukrainian airwaves), except two: Radio Respublika, broadcasting pro-Kremlin news in Russian from Donetsk, and an unidentified station on which, despite the crackling, a few words in Ukrainian could be picked out, soon supplanted by a thundering Russian ditty. "The enemy has won the battle of the airwaves. Here, we're already occupied by Russian propaganda. TV or radio, it's all the same," Johnson said.

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