May is a beautiful time in Kyiv. The city is finally waking up from winter hibernation, and the scents of spring are beginning to waft through the foul big city’s air. Last year, Kyiv was recovering from the threat of Russian occupation, which was to begin in March 2022. This year, Kyiv’s May was marked by very intense Russian shelling. During the month, Russia launched 18 air attacks on the Ukrainian capital. Everything was used: Shahed drones, Iskander ballistic missiles and hypersonic Kinzhals. Thanks to the help of our Western partners, our air defense forces are working wonders. All the “gifts” from Vladimir Putin are being shot down. But, I must admit, we cannot feel safe.
The shelling on the night of June 1 in Kyiv killed three people, including a young mother with a small child. The father of the family miraculously survived, and I don’t even want to think what he is feeling today. People just didn’t have time to get to the shelter – they were killed by the fragments of a downed Russian missile that fell on the street of a densely populated area. On the night of May 30, the debris of a downed kamikaze drone killed a woman who was in her apartment. Injured, dead, fires, broken windows and burned cars – these are the consequences of every shelling.
«At night I said very confidently: it’s just the nature of the sound. We closed the windows and went to bed. And what do you think? The whole show took place just 5 minutes from home. They write about broken windows, debris, damage to buildings – all the usual surroundings that are left behind by these fucking scum. Now I’m afraid to go out, because some cars have been damaged, and as long as I don’t see ours, it’s potentially intact. That’s Schrödinger’s Ford. I’m so angry, so angry, I’m going to go make a donation,» – my friend, literary critic Bohdana Romantsova, wrote on Facebook on the morning of June 1. Making monetary donations to volunteers and foundations that purchase military equipment for the army is a common Ukrainian way of expressing anger.
But I repeat: the Ukrainain air defense forces are gods. There may not be time to run to any shelter. I remember well the last Monday of spring. Back then, on May 29, the air raid alarm sounded at 11:09 a.m., and the first explosions occurred within minutes. I had just arrived at the editorial office, sleepy after the nighttime Shaheds attack. And in the morning, Iskanders hit Kyiv. It was very loud and, I must admit, scary. The mind has already put up with the constant danger, but the animal instinct cannot be tamed – every time something shrinks inside. But when the explosions subside and the air raid alert is canceled, the brain “rewards” you with a surge of joy. «Cool, I’m still alive!». So on Monday, our editorial meeting was held in an upbeat mood.
The worst time is at night. I learned what sleep deprivation is on the night of February 26, 2022, when my wife and I were leaving Kyiv. Then, standing in the corridor of an evacuation train packed with people, I learned what auditory hallucinations are. That’s a really bad stuff. Later, when we arrived in a small town in western Ukraine, it became easier. In the three months we lived there, we didn’t ignore a single air raid alert. Every time we heard the signal, we quickly grabbed our backpacks with the most important things and went down to the basement. Days without air raid alarms could be counted on one hand. Sometimes the sirens sounded three to five times a day – at night, in the morning, in the afternoon, and in the evening. After a couple of weeks, you start feeling like a zombie. I still wonder how I managed to fulfill my work duties.
After returning to Kyiv, we relaxed a bit. There were fewer attacks, and most missiles and drones were shot down on the approach to the capital. But in May of this year, we had to say goodbye to our levity. When the Shahed (they usually attack at night) is shot down right over your house, it makes an impression. One night, I was watching the air defense work from my window. Searchlights cut through the night sky, and machine gun bursts pierced the silence. Then something exploded, caught fire and fell to the ground – it was an Iranian drone. Of course, I was a fool – at such moments you should hide somewhere, not stand on the balcony. This is not a movie, this is a real war.
Fortunately, you don’t have to listen to the siren outside the window. There are mobile apps that synchronously notify you of an air raid: a nasty siren sound wails and a calm female voice says «Attention! Air raid!». The nearest shelter is not too close, so we just go to sleep in the corridor. It won’t save us if a missile or drone hits our house directly, but it will protect us from glass shards if the windows are blown out by a blast wave. You can forget about normal sleep in such conditions, but even a vague sense of security is better than nothing.
There is a lack of shelters in Kyiv that could provide more or less reliable protection from missiles. Usually, these are just basements of houses, schools, hospitals, subway stations, and underground parking lots. Many of them have long been converted to commercial use. Sometimes they are simply closed. This is exactly what happened on the night of June 1: people were unable to get to a shelter (the basement of a local hospital) quickly because an employee did not open the door in time. Cases like this cause fierce criticism of Mayor Vitali Klitschko and the entire local government. This criticism is partly justified. But let’s be honest: it is basically impossible to hide the city’s 3.5 million people underground. Especially if the need to hide can arise at any time and it needs to be done within minutes. But once again, our air defense forces are gods!
Despite everything, Kyiv lives its usual life. Wartime circumstances have shaped our new normal, and we are adapting to it. During the air raid, the streets are almost empty, but after the air raid is over, they come to life again. A few minutes ago, explosions were thundering in the sky, and now people are going about their business, eating ice cream, talking, laughing. But that’s not a fatalism of the doomed. «Before the war, 57% of Ukrainians were fatalists, and now only 27% are,» says Yevhen Holovakha, director of the Institute of Sociology at the National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine. And I believe him. The great war is a terrible traumatic experience for Ukrainian society. But we have also learned that we are much stronger than we used to think about ourselves, both as individuals and as a society.
We talk a lot about the shelling with our family, friends, and colleagues. In whose neighborhood were the loudest explosions? How far from home did the debris fall? Did you manage to sleep at night? How many missiles do the Russians have left?.. Often these conversations end in agreement: let them waste missiles attacking Kyiv, which is well defended, rather than other cities with weaker air defense. Not to mention our soldiers at the frontline.
