By: C. William Hanson Jr.

When I began writing in Kramatorsk last month, the Russians were at that moment overrunning the village of Chassiv Yar, several miles to the southeast.  On July 21st, the BBC reported, “Since dawn on Friday, Russia has made three attempts to approach troops near Chasiv Yar and Klishchiivka, Ukraine’s General Staff said in an operational update. The 24th Mechanized Brigade, which has been redeployed to Chasiv Yar, said on Thursday evening: “The situation in and around the town is extremely difficult. The enemy is constantly organising massive frontal assaults, and also trying to bypass the settlement from the north and south.” It added that Russian forces were “mercilessly shelling” the area.  Chassiv Yar prior to the war had a population of about twelve thousand, but survivors from the civilian population have been evacuated.

Perspective varies as to the danger facing the people of Kramatorsk. Grave risk would confront me there, according to my friends in Kyiv.  The people who live in Kramatorsk, a city with about 150,000 inhabitants, seem to feel otherwise.  I saw occasional ruined buildings which had suffered from Russian shelling, but such sights also dot the cityscape of Kyiv.  Soldiers on leave from the front regard the city as a haven of peace, rest, and relaxation.   

It seems that Kramatorsk enjoys strong support from the government in Kyiv, and so electricity comes to the city uninterrupted.  Elsewhere scheduled blackouts occur in order to ration the limited power still available after Russia’s relentless bombing of power plants.  Even in Lviv, less than fifty miles from the Polish border, the city where I usually stop for the night as I journey eastward,  the city to which NATO embassies temporarily retreated until the Ukainians routed the Russian advance towards Kyiv, I found myself at night without electricity or elevator service on the top floor of the Nota Bene hotel.  By contrast, in Kramatorsk, as Dima told me before my arrival, “They don’t turn off the lights.”  

In addition to uninterrupted electricity, the government provides regular train service between Kyiv and Kramatorsk.  More precisely, a single train each day, a comfortable train with a cafe car, makes the seven hour, 650 km journey,   departing from Kyiv at 06:45 every morning and then returning, with an arrival in Kyiv at 21:30. Tickets cost about ten dollars each way. The train’s passengers include mostly soldiers returning to the front, some with obvious signs of injury, and family members, especially wives or fiancees, on their way to meet their loved ones on short leave from duty.  The train has been nicknamed “the Sweetheart Express.”  

Dima, the meek twenty-six-year-old Ukrainian journalist whose story appeared in our issue of June 1st, came to greet me at my hotel the evening of my arrival in Kramatorsk.  He wore with pride his army lieutenant’s uniform and he looked well, having acquired a somewhat muscular physique.

He was driving a formidable SUV.  This I supposed was a government vehicle, until he proudly revealed that he owns it. Dima spends his days escorting foreign journalists towards the front twelve miles away.  His tasks are to minimize in so far as is feasible the risk to these visiting war correspondents, to instruct them as to the limits of what may safely be reported, to review their reports and their photos, and to edit out any words or photos which might aid the Russians in identifying targets for shelling.  

On the one hand, Kramatorsk evidences that the war and the city’s strategic military importance have shaped the city’s daily life, with a 10 pm curfew and throughout the city a strict prohibition on sale of alcohol (together with the inevitable black market which generally accompanies such prohibition).  On the other hand,  the city has well-stocked, upscale supermarkets and other amenities.  I invited Dima to be my guest for dinner one night and asked him if the city offered any nice restaurants.   “Most definitely,” he replied, and we dined in an Azerbaijani restaurant, which was in its way the poshest restaurant I have ever experienced. 

Nothing but the price was cheap. Each table occupied its own little cabin, with an electric button for use in summoning a waiter, each of whom was attractively dressed in uniform and looked to be of college age or younger. Dima and I talked for hours. He told me that I am the only friend who has made the journey from Kyiv to see him.  Yet he appears far too busy to allow time for homesickness. He exhibits dedication, determination, and courage. These are strengths I have witnessed previously in Ukraine.  The Ukrainian people deserve support.  Happily, with Kamala Harris now atop the Democratic ticket, such support seems a bit more likely to endure beyond the November election.

READER COMMENTS

I am wondering how your friend Dima is doing, and would it be possible for me to follow his work as a journalist online? Best wishes for a day filled with blessings.-Kate Oneil

Thank you for your excellent question, Kate.  At present I believe that he is taking a pause in his own online writing in order to devote his time to overseeing foreign war correspondents.   As soon as we see him resuming  his own online writing, we shall be happy to share it with you.

We appreciate your kind wishes.

C. W. Hanson