"If You Can Hear It Flying, It's Close"

Near the road, a man sits on a bench. He is a resident of the village of Ruski Tyshky. After the Russians’ new offensive in the Kharkiv region, the line of contact is only 10 kilometers from this village. Russians often bombard Ruski Tyshky with guided aerial bombs and artillery, so the man usually goes to Kharkiv to spend the night.

The man says that locals come here for weekends to look after the garden, plantings, and animals. Very few people live here permanently, so buses from Ruski Tyshky to Kharkiv and back no longer run. To get to the city, those who don’t have their own transport need to first get to the village of Tsyrkuny. It’s about 5 km from Ruski Tyshky. People either walk, ride bicycles, or try to stop passing cars, like the man we met by the road.

These villages in the Kharkiv region were occupied by the Russians from late February to early May 2022. After they were liberated by the Armed Forces of Ukraine, the Russians almost immediately began shelling the villages. When the shelling subsided a little after a few months, people began to return, rebuild their destroyed homes, and shops and children's clubs resumed operations.

But in May 2024, local residents were forced to recall the beginning of 2022 and again feel the fear of occupation. The Russians began to advance in the directions of Vovchansk and Lyptsi. Now, a lot has changed in these and the villages closest to them. People left again, and reconstruction was stopped.

"We Only Come for the Weekends Now"

The village is so empty that it seems as if there is no one there. Most of the houses have broken walls and windows, and there are traces of debris and gunshots on the fences.

We see a car near one of the fences. Leonid Ivanovych opens the door for us. He no longer lives in the village. He only comes here on weekends. He says he has to tend to the garden. Leonid's wife does not come. At the beginning of 2022, she was very badly felt because of the shelling and occupation, so her husband is not taking her with him yet.

“Those who could, left on their own, and those who couldn’t were evacuated at will,” the man says. “When we were leaving, the shells were already falling on the asphalt.” He shows us his yard. After the shelling of 2022, the man managed to replace 17 windows and prepare materials to repair the roof. The man’s summer kitchen and barn were destroyed, and the livestock that were there died. Only Leonid Ivanovych’s dog survived the shelling. His neighbor, Valeriy, looked after him.

"I Only Believe in Victory"

Valeriy lives permanently in Ruski Tyshki. His mother refuses to leave, and he cannot go without her. Before the new Russian offensive on the Kharkiv region, the man worked as a security guard at a local enterprise. Now it is not working, so he no longer has a job. Other enterprises in the village are destroyed and are not working either.

"On May 10th, I was supposed to go on shift at half past five in the evening, there, to Cherkasky Tyshky. I just started my transport, my motoblock, and I hear a whistle. In the year and a half since the Russians were kicked out of here, we have already relaxed and forgotten what it is. A whistle, and three explosions at once. This all," the man points to the nearby fields and trees, "all of it was on fire. It has already grown back a little in three weeks. We recently dug up a vegetable garden when we were planting potatoes. If we hadn't done this, everything here would have burned down, too. We called the firefighters. My neighbor and I have put out four yards."

During our conversation, Valerii's mother, Nadiia Ivanivna, was working in the garden.

"Here are the carrots planted. Here are the onions planted. Here is all we planted for the winter. Here is the beet. Next are the strawberries. This year, there are no strawberries, the frost has hit them. So such things," the woman points to the upcoming harvest.

When asked why she refuses to leave the village, Nadia Ivanivna says that she wants to be only at home, and she is not at all afraid of shelling:

"I don't want to leave, I don't want to. I believe in Victory. I only believe in Victory and nothing else... We should hold on and believe in the Armed Forces of Ukraine. I believe in it. The Cossacks must defeat them, no matter what. How long will those Muscovites strangle us..."

"Our Guys Will Drive Them Out—and It Will Be Fine"

In the neighboring yard, we meet a couple. They also now come home only on weekends. In addition to the vegetable garden, Volodymyr and Natalia also have chickens here. After the deoccupation of the village, Volodymyr rewired the electricity and gas to the house.

“Life was getting better little by little, and then—please!” says the man, complaining about the new Russian offensive. The couple shows the fragments of a Russian shell that fell in their yard: “Here it is, this thing that flew to us… Let’s go, let’s go, it’s still in the garden. See, there’s a hole? This flew here. There, it’s lying, you see, under the fence. It’s lying under the fence.”

As a result of the shelling, the roof in their house is now leaking, the wallpaper has come off, and a piece of shell has destroyed the chandelier.

“I fell on the sofa, I lay down like that. My neighbors got under the table and the barbecue. My husband was in the kitchen,” Natalia recalls the day of the shelling.

As a farewell, the woman gives us a bucket of eggs and says, “Everything will be okay, our guys will soon kick them out of there—and it will be fine.”

"My Whole Life Is Here, Everything  Is Broken"

Not far away on this street, we meet an older man. Petro now lives in a relatives’ house, as his house has been destroyed. We ask the man to show us the house. It is located in a part of the village that the locals call “the hamlet.” This part has suffered the most from the Russian shelling. We stop near a completely destroyed house, from which parts of the walls remain.

“My whole life has been here,” the man says, pointing to what remains of his home, then peeking behind the wall where the garage used to be. “And here’s my car.” There’s little left of the car either. Now it’s nothing more than a piece of iron.

“We were in the cellar. It was May 13, 2022,” Petro recalls the day of the flight to his home. “I hear a bang!” I come out — there’s no roof, the slate is lying here. I went into the house, there’s a bedroom — the hit was right in the bedroom, and the bedroom collapsed. And then they started to shell more. I wanted to start the car. I began to start it, but the battery died. I just got out, and the hit was to the car. I would have stayed there… So my wife and I got on our bicycles and ran away. Our bags were packed, documents. We left for the highway, and there the volunteers already picked us up. We left for Cherkasy.”

Petro shows us the yard and sighs sadly, looking at the ruins of a once-happy life:

“Everything was here… I was born here, I’m here… There’s my raspberry. I have to come here and water it… We had a cow, a bull. We were engaged in the market and lived on that. Everything is broken..."

"If You Can Hear It Flying, It's Close"

There is a family medicine clinic in Ruski Tyshky. Until recently, family doctors worked here, but due to shelling, they left for the Tsyrkuny. Now, in their building, emergency doctors from Lyptsy work.

“We worked in Lyptsy before the war. I was the last to leave the premises of my permanent base,” says ambulance doctor Lyudmila. And then after the liberation [of the Kharkiv region], since December 2023, we had been working constantly in Lyptsy, providing medical assistance to the population. When we were de-occupied, we had a gray zone, and it was a very difficult life. There were shellings… At that time, the Russians were shelling chaotically every day. It was 2022. I started to work, and I was riding to Kharkiv by bicycle, because there was no transport. I rode the road that was less shelled.”

When we were having lunch with the doctors on the steps of the ambulance, we heard a loud explosion.

— That was a hit.
— Is that a hit? How far is it?
— That’s close.
— I don’t even know how far…
— It’s impossible to say for sure, but it’s somewhere between Tyshky, if you were on the bridge, and Borshchova. If you can hear it flying, then it’s close.

"If Russians Drop a Bomb, All Animals Will Be Killed Here"

When we were leaving the village, we noticed an unusual place. There were dozens of dog kennels in the yard of a three-story building, and dogs were walking past. A woman, Ms. Olena, came out of the entrance. After most people left Ruski Tyshky due to the occupation and shelling, she began to take care of pets whose owners could not take with. Now the woman has 118 dogs, 40 cats, and several goats. She feeds them all, sterilizes them, and cleans up after them. The woman even has a special notebook where she writes down their names and characters.

“No place where I can go with so many animals, but I can’t abandon them either, you know? How can I abandon them?” says Olena.

Volunteers bring food to the self-organized shelter. They also helped build an aviary and new kennels so that the dogs have a comfortable home.

“Due to the recent events, all the dogs were moved to the basement to keep them safe. If a bomb is dropped here, they will all be killed here,” says Olena. Due to the constant Russian shelling, the woman fears that the animals may be killed by shell fragments.

We go down to the basement, where the cats live. The woman cleans each cat's cage, pours food for them. Nearby we see a makeshift bed - mattresses stacked on top of each other, and a blanket on top. Olena sleeps here with the cats. She says that the basement is safer now than in the apartment.

“Life began to adjust. We put a roof on the house, put in windows, started preparing for repairs in the house, and then it got loud again, shooting started, bombs started falling. In the basement, of course, life is worse for them than outside, but it is safer,” the woman says. Olena is looking forward to when the situation stabilizes and she can release all the animals into the enclosures where they are supposed to live.

“We made five gorgeous dog enclosures, my husband has already started building a roof there, and then the offensive has started,” says Olena. She brings out a notebook in which the names of the animals are written in a neat column with an explanation of who should live in which enclosure when the situation calms down.

Until the autumn of 2022, a local man, Oleksandr, helped Olena to care for the animals. He was the son of Olena’s godparents, and he had also not left since the start of the full-scale war. Relatives jokingly said that Oleksandr would someday marry Olena’s daughter. Unfortunately, this will no longer happen. The man was killed by Russian shelling.

“This is the biggest, most painful loss of the war for me. He helped me with everything, helped my neighbors, pulled people's belongings out of burning houses,” recalls Olena. We met her on the day that Oleksandr was supposed to have his birthday. Olena brought peonies to his grave. The woman cries when she remembers him and says to the grave: “I will come to you, I will come.”

"The Children Came Here with Pleasure"

After the new Russian offensive, life in Tsyrkuny has also changed dramatically. This village is located a little further from the Russian border than Tyshky, only three kilometers from the Kharkiv bypass. Many people have left the village again due to fear of re-occupation and shelling.

After the deoccupation of the village in 2022, volunteer and activist Hanna, with the help of sponsors, opened a children's center in Tsyrkuny, where local children engaged in creativity and sports. After the second Russian offensive in May 2024, the center stopped working. It is too dangerous for children to come here now. Teachers conduct those classes that are possible online.

“Children came here with pleasure to study and spend time with each other. The school and kindergartens in Tsyrkuny were destroyed,” says Hanna. First, she received funds from partners to create a heating point, and later found resources to create a children's center. Already at the end of May 2023, less than a year after the deoccupation of the village, the center was fully operational. Now the children are engaged in preschool classes and speech therapy online. According to Hanna, classes have not stopped for a day. But sports and art classes are still on pause.

"She Can't Wait to Get Out of the Garage"

In addition to the children's center, Hanna was in charge of another project that was suspended due to the new Russian offensive. She was involved in documenting the rebuilding of residential houses destroyed by shelling.

One of the houses that Hanna took on was already being actively rebuilt. Before the second offensive, they managed to replace the windows and put on a new roof. Since it was impossible to live in the house, the owners lived in the garage, which they had converted.

“The woman told us that she couldn't wait to get out of the garage, put on her slippers, and walk around her house again,” says Hanna.

Now, after the new Russian offensive, people could not stand it and left for Kharkiv. However, at their peril and risk, they come almost every day to keep order in the house and yard.

On this street, you can see dozens of broken houses, but many have fresh bricks and rubble nearby. People were already rebuilding their houses, trying to return to their usual lives. But because of the new Russian offensive and constant explosions, there is no one on the streets. Life seems to have paused again.