AVDIIVKA, Ukraine — Pale and grimy from living in a damp, dark basement for nearly a year, the crying teenager and her mother emerged to the sound of pounding artillery and made their way to a waiting armored police van that took them into salvation
Russian forces were not far from their front-line town of Avdiivka in the east Ukrainewhere shells fall every day, tearing up buildings, smashing cars and leaving craters.
Dark, curly hair sticking out from under his sweatshirt, 15-year-old Oleksii Mazurin was one of the last young men still standing there. After their evacuation on Friday, another 13 remained, police chief Roman Protsyk said.
Before the Russian invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, about 25,000 people lived in Avdiivka. Despite the bombing, about 2,000 civilians remain, Protsyk said.
For months, authorities have been urging civilians in areas close to the fighting to evacuate to safer parts of the country. But while many heeded the call, others – including families with children – steadfastly refused.
So it’s up to the police to try to convince people to leave. A special unit known as the White Angels risk their lives to go to villages and towns on the front line, knocking on doors and begging the few remaining residents to evacuate.
In early March, the government issued an order for the mandatory evacuation of families with children from combat zones. Under the order, children must be accompanied by a parent or guardian. But it currently only applies to Bakhmut, the hard-hit eastern city where fighting has been going on for months.
“The mandatory evacuation order is unfortunately in force only in Bakhmut. In Avdiivka, this law has not been adopted,” said Gennadiy Yudin, police officer of White Angels. “We drove around all the families. We notified them, we informed them of the evacuation.”
In Bakhmut itself, the situation is so dangerous that civilian evacuations are exceptionally risky.
“I already think that for Bakhmut, it’s too late,” said Protsyk. “Here in our region, … if such a decision were to be made now, it would be safe.”
But without a mandatory evacuation order, the police’s hands are tied. All they can do is use their powers of persuasion.
For Oleksii’s 37-year-old mother, Svitlana Mazurina, the decision to finally leave was tough.
“It’s hard when you’ve lived in this town since birth,” he said. “Now I leave I don’t know where, where no one needs me. I don’t know where or from whom to start.”
Mazurina had been living in the basement of the building with her partner and Oleksii for almost a year, fearing the bombs less than leaving for an unknown destination and an uncertain future. His partner will still not leave, saying that he is afraid of being reinforced in the army.
“I only agreed because I felt sorry for the child,” said Mazurina. “I want him to live well.”
And living well is no longer possible in Avdiivka. Living at all is a game of chance.
Moments before the evacuation of the mother and son and a few streets away, another apartment was hit by an air strike. The entire corner of the apartment block was gone, reduced to smoldering rumble as flames and black smoke billowed from the gaping hole the bomb left in the 15-story structure.
As Yudin and a fellow White Angels police officer surveyed the damage, the wail of incoming artillery pierced the air. He sank to the ground as the detonation reverberated through the shattered landscape of bombed buildings and splintered trees. When the sound died down, they got up and went to Mazurina’s apartment.
But not all attempts to evacuate civilians were successful. Protsyk, the police chief, described families hiding their children from the authorities, or accusing the police of trying to kidnap them.
In the nearby village of Netailove, so close to the front line that the sound of gunfire rang out across the fields on the outskirts of the village, the police tried – and failed – to persuade the teenager’s family that it was time to go.
“Leave it all, I can’t imagine it,” said Natalya, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I just want to die. I can’t live without a house.”
His son, 14-year-old Maksim, said he wanted to stay, as did his father, Andreii. Natalya was in favor of the evacuation, but she would not let him. The family did not give his last name.
Again and again, the police tried to convince: “What if a shell destroys your house? What if you are injured?”
Natalya replied, “It’s better to die soon.”
A policeman replied: “But the child will live and will live. The child’s life is important.”
The argument was of no avail. Maksim stood outside his house, his hood pulled over his head to ward off the morning chill.
He did not bow to the sound of the exploding artillery. No one did – the bombing became the regular background of their lives.
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Vasilisa Stepanenko in Avdiivka contributed.
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Follow AP’s coverage of the war in Ukraine at https://apnews.com/hub/russia-ukraine