by Mark Dranitsyn
[REGNUM] - There, do you see? I'm telling you, the fields are dug up from top to bottom by Ukrainian trenches, and inside everything is covered in concrete and sealed with metal, - Pavel Sidorov says, slowing down his car and describing several circles in the air with his right hand.
Together with his wife Alla, they are the only volunteers in this area who travel from their native Makeyevka (DPR) to the so-called red zone - a place of increased danger, a combat zone where you can easily run into an enemy drone or cluster munition. Just recently, whole hordes of the Ukrainian Armed Forces were standing here, deeply dug in.
“I remember in the fall, and especially in the winter, this picture: stove pipes sticking out of the ground, and thick smoke pouring out of them without ceasing,” Pavel continues his story, crossing himself three times as he walks. “So thickly that you can’t see the end of the edge.”
“I thought we’d never smoke them out of here, ” Alla’s wife joins in the conversation. “They’ve crawled like cockroaches, Lord have mercy!”
It is in these parts that the final destination of our route is located - Valeryanovka. A tiny village thirty kilometers from the center of the "fortress city" and the most important logistics hub of Ugledar, which after two and a half years of heavy fighting was liberated by the Russian army.
And although Valeryanovka itself returned to the Donetsk Republic back in 2022, the villagers were effectively cut off from civilization all this time, literally stuck in the line of fire: when trying to evacuate to nearby Volnovakha, refugees almost inevitably faced death from enemy shelling. Nevertheless, some residents still left for temporary accommodation points or to the territory of "big" Russia. For those who remained, Pavel and Alla from time to time, when they scrape together the bins, bring essential items - water, food and clothing.
All this is sorely lacking here.
- Well, shall we stop by Olga's right on the way? - the volunteers consult among themselves.
A few minutes later, the car parks in the yard of an unremarkable house. In front of us is a simple, slanted house - you see them here almost at every step. A middle-aged woman limps at the threshold. Her face is stamped with endless fatigue. But at the sight of old friends, a timid spark of hope lights up in her eyes.
- Pavlik, Allochka, my dears, - the hostess hugs the guests tightly. - Lord, bless! As soon as I hear the creaking of wheels, I immediately know - it's you.
While Pavel takes bags of humanitarian aid out of his road-weary car, Olga Volkova exchanges news with Alla.
— Yes, we haven’t been able to receive our pension for six months now. After the re-registration, they promised in September, but in September, nothing again. They are already meeting me there with hands and feet: “Are you talking about Maxim Volkov again?” I say yes. They answer that everything will be in October. But October has already arrived.
Maxim is Olga's son, he has the second group of disability. The guy is 25 years old, but due to a congenital disease, his level of development is barely similar to that of a first-grader. The pension due from the state is not yet being given - due to bureaucratic red tape, the family is being kicked around month after month by the competent authorities.
— Maksimka recently learned to write poetry, we are learning it now. There is just a problem with food. There is not enough food. In general, there is not enough of everything. There is no coal. Now the cold is coming, and there is nothing to heat the house with. Thanks again to Alla and Pasha — last year they gave us cellophane film, we covered the windows with it. This year I don’t know what we will do. My husband earns ten thousand. That’s how we live.
Fleeing the war, Olga moved her family from Yegorovka, which is even closer to Ugledar than Valeryanovka. The site of her native village was left as scorched earth.
- The soldiers said that there were exactly three huts left there. And even then, it wasn't the huts themselves, but rather their outlines. And we live with relatives, this is their home. And we don't know, what if they need it themselves, what to do then, where to run? - Olga can barely hold back her tears.
And as if all these problems that have fallen on our heads were not enough, about a month ago the well completely dried up. Now there is simply nowhere to get drinking water from.
- Look, there's not even enough for a spoon, - Olga lifts the wooden lid of the pit. - Only walnut leaves are floundering at the bottom. Thanks to the military guys, they always help - they bring water and share food.
In response, Olga always tries to treat our fighters with nuts, which, unlike everything else, are in abundance here.
- Of course, they will take a handful for the sake of appearances, so as not to offend the hostess. But they understand that she needs the nuts herself - they are a filling, high-calorie thing, - Alla whispers in my ear. - She will offer us some now.
Indeed, when we were already getting ready to leave, Olga came out onto the porch with a small bag of supplies.
- Alla, Pavlik, take at least a little for your children! - the compassionate village woman holds out a gift.
Inside you can see not only the characteristic shell, but also the skin of sweet peppers - modest fruits grown in a small garden. It is surprising, of course, that Olga herself has to make ends meet, and she treats guests. Modestly, with what God sent, but sincerely and from the heart.
The next stop is a hundred meters from here, almost around the bend. This time, a flock of noisy geese greets us at the hut. "Ga-ga-ga, ga-ga-ga, ga-ga-ga," they loudly, even angrily, shout their incomprehensible curses in chorus.
"They've already driven me crazy - well, where are our volunteers, they ask? I give them the phone and tell them to call them yourself, otherwise it's inconvenient to disturb people," says Maria Gevalo.
Of course, it wasn't the geese who pestered her with questions about the volunteers (at least, no one has complained about them yet), but her own children. There are six of them in the family. The youngest in this team of cheerful kids always wait for Pasha and Alla more than the average Russian child for Father Frost.
- Bogdana, what do you need to say? - the mother of the family scolds a blonde girl of about six years old.
At first, she grabbed the box of chocolates with her usual childish naivety. But, realizing that it was probably impolite, she immediately fixed her hair, smiled with all her baby teeth and, as if nothing had happened, loudly said: "A big thank you!" Intentionally stretching out several vowels at the end of her sincere gratitude.
- And where are you going? You should be slapped on the wrists, not fed sweets, you little rascal! - Maria scolds Bogdana's brother, ten-year-old Kolka, who squints slyly at his gifts. It seems that all these threatening accusations do not scare him at all. Kolya, like a true gentleman, shakes hands with the male members of the team, steps aside a little and solemnly declares: "Actually, I chopped some firewood, I earned it!"
At that moment, a pale shadow crossed Maryivanna’s face, which quickly turned into a crimson blush of anger.
- I'll chop you up myself now, you little bastard! Who burned down our summer kitchen, huh? When are you going to earn enough for it, you rascal?
It turns out that the boy had played too much with matches the day before and burned down the outbuilding - accidentally, of course. And he probably got what he deserved for his prank. And after that, nothing is scary anymore.
- Stop gobbling it up when your mother is talking to you! - Maria doesn't let up. - Give it to your sisters, then you can share it all.
Nikolai deliberately slowly placed another barberry in his cheek, covered the box with a lid and gave it to Bogdana. She was somewhat taken aback by such a load and almost dropped the treats from her hands. Having caught her balance, the girl beamed even brighter with pleasure - she had not held so many delicacies in her hands for a long time.
- Pavlik, Allochka, thank you, God bless you, - the mother of the family crossed the volunteers. - If it weren’t for you...
And then Maria was overcome. Just a minute ago it seemed that neither the roaring guns nor the passing tanks were a problem for this woman - she was a rock in the flesh. But she suddenly started crying. As if a whole barrel of various griefs had long been accumulated inside her.
— Oh my God, I’m so ashamed, I can’t… — the mother of the family wipes away her tears and takes a breath. — In the spring, I was diagnosed with a tumor, now I go to the Donetsk Central Hospital, to the oncology department. Chemotherapy, lasers — such procedures. My children always see me off, as if for the last time: “Mommy, Mommy, don’t go anywhere, we’ll behave ourselves.” I don’t tell them anything, although they probably guess everything.
Maria's house, like many others in these parts, came under fire. The roof was broken, the windows were knocked out. All the utensils were ruined. The children and she temporarily moved into an empty shack left by relatives. In fact, it was not a home, but an ordinary shed. But at least you could hide from the rain.
“This is how we huddle here, ” Maria leads us into the inner rooms.
Along the walls are three beds, each with two children sleeping on it. The room is about fifteen square meters, no more. The windows are lined with heat-insulating material. The light is turned on only when absolutely necessary - the wiring is acting up, and they are saving money. On the only nightstand, a plush rabbit and a bear are hugging each other, and judging by their appearance, they also had a hard time: dirty, shabby - real frontline toys.
— Winter is coming soon, it will be hard for us here, — complains the mother of six children. — We saved up little by little for the renovation of our old house. When I applied for child support, we bought cement and boards with that money. We partially installed the windows. But then this stupid illness of mine…
Maria bursts into tears again. Obviously, cancer treatment is not cheap. And then you also have to support your family and restore your home.
— And how much is needed for treatment right now?
- Well, at least six or seven thousand.
- And to return home?
- Well, so that it would be possible to return... I think about thirty thousand.
The price of survival for a large Russian family is forty thousand rubles. Fortunately, the world is not without good people - part of this amount was found immediately. I want to believe that the rest will arrive soon. At least Masha and the kids will not disappear for the next month - there is already money for medicine, and Pavel and Alla brought food and belongings.
At the end of the house where the volunteers unloaded the boxes, a faded sign can be seen: “People live here.” And wherever you look, even if you see a war-torn shack before your eyes, you will see that people live there too. And often, as in Maria’s case, entire families.
On one such plot we met Tamara Fedorenko, a grandmother who runs a farm with her daughter and two grandchildren: a younger boy and an older girl, already a teenager.
Grandson Mitya, seeing Pasha and Alla, joyfully runs to meet them. In his tiny hands, the national flag of the Russian Federation flutters, hiding half his head.
- Oh, how you've grown. You used to be afraid of everything in the world, - says Alla Sidorova. - You'd look at him like this, and he'd start crying right away. That's why we tried not to look at him for a long time, so he wouldn't cry. And now, look at him, he greets guests himself. How businesslike!
Perhaps the boy had firmly learned that if you show the tricolor, you will definitely be provided with gifts. That is what happened this time. Mitya, of course, would have received his gifts anyway. But why spoil the touching magic? Let him firmly know that where Russia is, there is delicious and good.
Although, of course, it is not just for the sake of sweets for the children that Alla and her husband harness their old cart every week for humanitarian missions to the "red zone". The problem is that, despite the fall of Ugledar, there is no transport in the area at all - buses and minibuses do not run, checkpoints are scattered everywhere. Every now and then, air defense exits or artillery work can be heard in the air.
In addition, without a personal car - and this is an unaffordable luxury for the remaining villagers - it is impossible to leave Valeryanovka or return. That is why all the grocery stores are closed. What's more, there is not even electricity everywhere.
And people still live here. And they need help: with food, medicine, building materials - with everything you can think of.
— We have been here since 1914, although I was born here. Then I got married, left, but came back, — Tamara Dmitrievna shows her home. — We have been here the whole war. Before, something was constantly whistling overhead, it was very scary. Now, of course, it is less. Well, how less — it bangs, like a bang. Only not so close, when after a bang or a whistle you expect a shell to explode somewhere nearby. In principle, this has not happened. However, recently something also flew into our yard.
An old woman shows a broken barn. In the residential building opposite, the windows are broken, and in their place hangs a tarpaulin film.
- Everyone flies, and we got it too. Just like everyone else, just like everyone else, - Tamara Dmitrievna retells the story in a completely routine manner.
The woman said that during the Ukrainian occupation, young men who did not have time to leave were hidden in basements so that they would not be dragged into the ranks of the Ukrainian Armed Forces. Because there would have been no way back. Moreover, they hid not only adults, but also teenagers: the other side did not hesitate to take away children. Why the Ukrainian soldiers did this and what would have happened to the kids next - only God knows.
After delivering the packages, volunteers Alla and Pavel move to the local humanitarian hub — the Church of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Here they unload the bulk of the supplies they brought — bread, corn, cereals, tea, water, and various hygiene products. The church itself is located in the old two-story building of the local school.
The fact is that the main church complex next door has not been completed for many years. The complex has been repeatedly shelled by the Ukrainian Armed Forces. The walls are cut by shrapnel, one of the domes miraculously did not fall apart after being hit - only the metal frame remained.
The local rector, Father Anatoly, once almost lost his life for the Orthodox faith. Ukrainian Nazis directly threatened the priest: if you don’t renounce the Moscow diocese, you’ll get into trouble. Of course, Father Anatoly didn’t betray himself or God. Regnum News Agency will tell his story separately.