(No) Adventure Holiday — Rescue Vehicles for Ukrainian Soldiers
by Dr. Petra-Manuela Uysal
At the age of 64, without knowledge of the local language, without local knowledge, without family ties, I left my safe hometown, against all official warnings, and went to Kyiv, 1,600 km away, to a country that is at war with a neighbour threatening with nuclear weapons…
➡️Current project: Rescue Vehicles for Ukrainian Soldiers #4
DOING WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE
On the night of February 24, 2022, Comrade P. launched his major offensive, called „Special Operation“; 1.5 million old people, women and children then left their homeland, Ukraine, with only the bare necessities. Two weeks later, the first Ukrainian families arrived in my hometown and a few days later at my school. While looking for ways to support our highly stressed Ukrainian children, I discovered the crowdfunding project „Pick-up for Ukraine“ under the search term „Ukraine“.
Konstantin, born in Ukraine but living in Germany for 30 years, family man, German citizen, is looking for supporters to finance an all-terrain vehicle for supplying troops and evacuating the injured in Eastern Ukraine. He and his comrades do not want to stand idly by and watch as their homeland is taken over by an undemocratic aggressor with a much larger population and a wealth of weapons. I have decided to support Konstantin and his comrades from now on.
April 10, 2024: The war in Ukraine has been raging for 775 days now, and there is no end in sight. With the help of five crowdfunding campaigns, six vehicles have now been financed for partners in Ukraine; members of the Ukraine Helfer e.V. association want to transport two more vehicles — urgently needed for the evacuation of injured people — to Ukraine in May 2024. And this time I’m part of the team.
DEPARTURE
Ralf and Konstantin handed over vehicle number 1 to a Crimean Tatar unit in Kyiv on May 21, 2024. The vehicle handover was even worth a TV report — on ATR, the „First Crimean Tatar Channel“. Vehicle number 2 (also a Mercedes ML 270) is to be brought to Kyiv by Alex and me on May 30, 2024, made ready for the front in a car repair shop there and then handed over by the Kyiv Defenders to a unit of the 137th Marine Battalion.
So I pack my things in a backpack: everything in one place, practical to carry and quick to grab if you suddenly have to change location. For emergencies, I have 2 power banks and a 20-watt solar panel, as well as maps and a conventional compass for the worst case scenario. Then I set off for Kleinwallstadt. There I want to exchange my rickety hippie Kangoo for the serious ML 270 and leave my dog Kalle with Ralf and his daughter. Thank you both for your loving care!
It will be a nice evening, you can guess the topic…
CIAO!
May 30, 2024, 5:30 a.m.: One last walk together with the dog in beautiful weather, then we go to the train station to pick up Alex. Unexpectedly, the Deutsche Bahn actually arrives on time this morning — and unfortunately we are 3 minutes late! After breakfast, the ML is loaded and covered with stickers of the Kyiv Defenders and Ukraine Helfers on all surfaces; Alex applies the foil with dedication, really perfectly; Ralf documents with photo and video; a short introduction to the quirks of our vehicle following (eats oil, please top up every 500 km; drive slowly, after all, he is a car senior; if it doesn’t start after turning it off, don’t lose heart and try again or, better yet, don’t turn the engine off at all). Give the dog another hug and off to the gas station!
There we practice the starting thing. Alex masters this course perfectly; after 3 attempts the car is running. Off we go to the Ukraine! Ralf’s quote: „Alex, look after Petra! Don’t let her do what you’re doing!“ What is Alex doing in the Ukraine that I shouldn’t do?
While Alex heads towards Poland, I book an apartment online (I had previously neglected to do so!) very close to the Maidan and in a prime location that is well protected from air raids. I think back to the time when there were no smartphones and praise the achievements of the Internet. There are no traffic jams on the motorway; we make good progress. We head towards the Polish-Ukrainian border via Bamberg, Dresden, Görlitz and then through Silesia.
CUSTOMS AGENCY
May 30, 2024, just before midnight: We reach the Polish customs agency in Radymno. There is already a supplicant at the counter in front of us; we are sent outside. „Just one at a time!“ There must be a reason for that…
Only a few minutes later, however, Alex and I march back into the agency. Behind the counter sits a red-blond young man with a stern look; the papers and ID documents for the purchase contract are placed behind the glass pane — we receive a friendly look; a „private document“ that was accidentally left in the ID is quickly removed and taken back. When we ask when we can expect our documents to be processed and thus our journey to the Polish-Ukrainian border to continue, the first answer is „In 52 hours“, but then immediately „No, no! Come back later!“
We drive to the hotel and take our things out of the car — next to us is a Danish vehicle, which, like ours, has stickers from an aid organization on it. The picture shows a determined-looking, Ukrainian blue and yellow VW bus in comic style and the words „Fra Køge til Kyiv — Biler til Ukraine“ (from Køge to Kyiv — cars to Ukraine). So we are not the only ones. Alex goes back to the agency office; I check in. Thirty minutes later, the message that the boy from the agency had nothing to complain about.
First hurdle overcome!
NO MAN’S LAND
May 31, 2024, 6:30 a.m. — alarm clock rings — when I look down at the parking lot, I can’t find our ML anymore. (It was parked next to the Danish vehicle last night!) „I went to top up the oil… I’m here!“ reports the messenger. Aha!
07:12 h — We set off towards the border. Unfortunately, the servo pump has stopped working, which makes turning from a standstill difficult. But there are no problems starting it and our oldie purrs along contentedly in anticipation of its new heroic destiny.
07:48 h — We reach the Polish side of the border. It is so empty here that you lose track of things. We drive straight to the preliminary checkpoint (transit department!) and briefly stand in the wrong place; another vehicle pushes in front of us. But the border guards wave us pretty quickly to the first place we are entitled to and then let us through. It is difficult to say how we came to this honor; but it doesn’t matter, the main thing is that we move forward quickly! After just another 10 minutes we are standing in front of the checkpoint! Team 1 is getting jealous.
We park our ML in the Polish-Ukrainian no man’s land and fish the documents for the next act out of the glove compartment.
In the lobby of the Ukrainian border station there is a coffee machine (to bridge the hours of waiting?). We put on a friendly face again and head into the lion’s den and straight through the overtired truck drivers to the counter — Alex in front, I trudge behind. After an hour we are through!!! This success story shocks those who stayed at home; they had to wait several hours, annoyingly.
We want to get going, but our ML stubbornly refuses to work. Cursing, pleading, kind words; nothing helps — are we going to end up stranded here in no man’s land? After the umpteenth attempt to start, the cart reluctantly accepts Alex as its lord and master and moves forward without further grumbling.
NEW TERRITORY
May 31, 2024, 09:02 a.m. — We pass the border fence. Before us lie the vastness of Western Ukraine. Blue sky, fluffy clouds, the occasional village with a small church, golden onion domes, single-family houses with vegetable gardens and flower-decorated front gardens. Then endless mixed and coniferous forests on both sides of the road. What was the reason for our trip again? Everything here looks so peaceful! If you look more closely, you can also see village cemeteries with graves decorated with flags; there are quite a few of them.
After an hour’s drive through rural areas, we are just outside Lemberg (Lviv). Alex organizes coffee (long-awaited!) and medicine for himself — he has a bad cold. After another two hours of driving, we fill up the tank, top up the oil again and change drivers. We rarely encounter the military, but a captured Russian MIG opposite our gas station is a reminder of this:
This country is at war!
After a nearly nine-hour drive, we reach the city limits of Kyiv. To the left of the road is a shopping center that was hit hard by a Russian air raid in broad daylight. Another twenty minutes and we are finally in the city center, looking for my accommodation, which we cannot find despite having photos. Alex, my eloquent guide, clarifies the situation (it had to be “alley” instead of “street”). We drive around the square again and then he drops me off on the street corner opposite my apartment. “See you tomorrow — same place.” (Tomorrow we’re going to see the Kyiv Defenders).
AIR ALERT
So here I am! It takes a while before I can finally enter my apartment because I have to get through three doors (with adventurous locking mechanisms). Booking.com didn’t promise too much: everything you need is there, everything is very modern with WiFi and smart TV — and all of this at the price of a youth hostel. The outer walls of the building from the Stalinist Soviet era are almost one meter thick, conveying stability and security. In the club opposite, a young, stylish party scene and fine wedding parties meet in the evenings to celebrate. Not much different to other European metropolises.
My first exploration of the area is only a short walk to the next corner, then I am back in my own four walls and quickly disappear into the land of dreams, only to be torn from my deep sleep again shortly after 02 a.m.
“Attention! Air Raid Alert! Proceed to the Nearest Shelter! Don’t be careless! Your Overconfidence is Your Weakness!” announces the sonorous male voice of the Ukrainian warning app AIR ALERT. It is pitch black — power outage!
Completely dazed, I grab my smartphone, power bank, flashlight, backpack; and then go back and get the bedding. I spend the next few hours in the dark on the hallway floor in the light of my 1-watt lamp. The nearest shelter is too far away; three walls between me and the outside world will have to be enough. I send a message to Alex, because only he knows where I could be dug out if necessary. He responds to my message with a terse „Welcome!“
Less than ten minutes after the first message, accompanied by an unpleasantly urgent triple horn sound, the next warning comes:
“Attention! Increased Air Threat in Your Area! Proceed to the Nearest Shelter!” (Missiles have reached the city area). I try to rely on the thick walls of the building.
„Attention! The Air Alert is Over! Be The Force with You!“ (I had already crawled back into bed with aching bones; I didn’t care!). I slept through the next alarm, just before the alarm went off. Not nice, but good that I was able to experience it!
KYIV DEFENDERS
June 01, 2024: At exactly half past eight, Alex is standing at the street corner with our ML. The drive to the Kyiv Defenders‘ warehouse passes a medieval city gate, baroque Orthodox churches, Stalinist tenement blocks and modern high-rise buildings. Very impressive! Half an hour later we reach our destination.
We meet Inna (public relations) and daughter, Iva and Oleg (founder of the KD and activist from the very beginning). I already know Iva and Oleg, it’s nice to see them again!
In the KD warehouse, medical supplies, dry food, generators and power banks are piled up; letters of thanks and signed flags line the walls; one door is covered with badges from all the military units that have been supported so far. Oleg tells us that at the beginning of the war, civilians had to endure two weeks in the basement of the warehouse building in freezing winter weather without electricity, heating or tap water until the Russians finally gave up their grip on Kyiv (with the aim of taking the city and overthrowing the Ukrainian government) and withdrew.
TOUR OF DESTRUCTION
After a few souvenir photos and video recordings, we part ways. Alex will drive the ML to the car repair shop later; Oleg and Iva want to show me the destructions caused by the invaders in February/March 2022 in Irpin, Bucha and Hostomel, northwest of Kyiv. I remember reports of residential buildings shot to pieces, looting, torture, massacres of fleeing civilians.
Our first stop is the Romaniv Bridge on the Irpin River on the access road from Irpin to Kiev. It was blown up by Ukrainian troops on the second day of the Russian invasion to prevent the capture of Kyiv. Around 40,000 refugees from the northwest of Kyiv waited under the remains of the bridge and were rescued. Those who did not make it under the bridge were mercilessly shot by Russian soldiers. No one was spared.
How huge must have been the hatred among Russian soldiers that they did not even stop at children!
The road connection from Irpin to Kiev has now been restored. A new bridge crosses the river, parallel to the destroyed one. The ruins on both banks still stand as a memorial against forgetting — as does the minibus that fell from the bridge. A Ukrainian-English information board commemorates the events of that time.
A few minutes’ drive further, on the outskirts of Irpin, in the square in front of a cemetery, the next memorial: here, all the wrecked cars that were shot to pieces and burned out during the escape have been piled up in a huge rusty heap. The bullet holes from the Russian attack are clearly visible; forgotten cuddly toys lie in some of the wrecks. Sunflowers, symbols of hope, are emblazoned on three vehicle corpses and other works by Ukrainian artists cover the relics of the Russian attack. Yellow and blue ribbons fly in some places, yellow and blue surfaces and a „Slava Ukraini“ testify to the Ukrainians’ will to resist.
Two years after the Russian invasion of Ukraine, much has been rebuilt, but as I drive through the towns north-west of Kyiv, I still see clear signs of the invasion: destroyed educational institutions such as the Irpin Finance School, where Ukrainian civilians had taken refuge; soot-blackened house facades in Bucha, riddled with artillery shells; demolished, newly built single-family homes in Hostomel; apartment buildings without windows, hastily repaired. Peaceful residential areas were occupied and furiously looted. It is very special to see all of this in the original and not just tiny on the screen.
But life goes on: flowers in front gardens, families in parks in the beautiful early summer weather, renovated high-rise buildings, people in cafes who do not want to be intimidated by the air raids. And then every now and then vehicles belonging to private helpers from Europe and elsewhere (on the way back to Kyiv we pass a van from Berlin in Irpin town with the inscription “Volonter Deti”; this one also belongs to partners of the Kyiv Defenders).
ON THE MAIDAN
June 1, 2024, afternoon: It‘s time to explore the Maidan. The way there is lined with cafes, bars and bistros. On the northern part there are kebab shops, coffee bars and souvenir stands (somehow almost like at home) where you can buy Ukrainian flags, blue and yellow wristbands, badges and all kinds of Ukrainian folk art (or whatever the tourist thinks it is).
However, I am more interested in the southern area. A photo exhibition there documents the fighting from February 18 to 20, 2014, during the hot phase of the „Revolution of Dignity“. What is really depressing, however, is the sea of blue and yellow flags and photos of the fallen: many of them very young and also among them Belarusians and other non-Ukrainians. The war is always present here.
POWER LOCKOUT
Back in the apartment, I’m looking forward to a cup of instant coffee. Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen — the power is cut for the next few hours, a consequence of Russia’s constant attacks on the energy infrastructure. You should never forget to charge your smartphone and power bank in time! For a coffee, I’d have to go to the nearest kiosk, which certainly has an emergency generator, but I’m too tired, too lazy. I’ll just have goose wine and biscuits from the kitchen table. Tomorrow is another day! And what a day!
WALL OF REMEMBRANCE
June 02, 2024: Finally I may sleep in — and then experience an unusual event: Not far from my apartment is the St. Michael’s Monastery with its baroque, light blue and white painted cathedral in the Ukrainian Orthodox style with gold-covered tower roofs. Its extensive grounds are surrounded by a seemingly endless wall.
This „Wall of Remembrance,“ as the people of Kyiv call it, is covered with photographs of soldiers who have fallen since the Russian invasion; there are thousands of them. They look at me proudly and confidently from their photos, not knowing that their days will soon be over. The wall is lined with bouquets of flowers and grave candles, always fresh, always new.
In St. Michael’s Square in front of the monastery grounds, one of the oldest squares in Kyiv, there are now burned-out Russian tanks and other military equipment next to historical monuments — as trophies and as a warning. Much of it dates back to the battle for the „Antonov“ airport near Hostomel.
CHEKA: This Sunday, „Cheka“ is to be buried, Iryna Tsybukh, a nationally known journalist in civilian life. Since 2015, she has been deployed several times as a paramedic in the volunteer battalion „Hospitallers“ in eastern Ukraine; in the meantime, she organized civilian educational projects in the villages of the Donetsk and Luhansk regions. With the start of the Russian invasion in February 2022, she returned permanently to her former unit and regularly reported on her experiences at the front in her podcast „Cheka’s Diary“. Three days ago, she fell right before her replacement — today would have been her twenty-sixth birthday.
As I march past the “Wall of Remembrance,” more and more people gather on the church square, including numerous soldiers in uniform. Many of them having flowers with them, some carrying the Ukrainian flag or the flag of Cheka‘s battalion.
Cheka’s coffin is carried out of the church and in front off the monastery grounds; soldiers from their unit kneel before him. They then shoulder the coffin and an endless funeral procession moves across the square and then down Mykhailivskyi Street to the Maidan — to pay their respects. A thousand Ukrainians, if not more, kneel again in front of the coffin of the fallen. „Slava Ukraini, Heroyam Slava“ — Glory to Ukraine, honor to the heroes! The farewell ceremony lasts more than an hour. Many young people in the crowd wear clothes with traditional Ukrainian embroidery.
The Russian attack has not divided Ukrainian civil society, as hoped, but rather united it.
STRONG WOMEN — SLAVA HEROYINYAM!
Our evacuation vehicle was handed over to the Kyiv Defenders; after repairs, they will take it to the front. The purpose of my trip would thus be fulfilled. But I will stay (at my own expense) and spend the next 2 ½ days exploring the history, art and culture, parks and gastronomy of Kyiv, together with four wonderful women who are holding the fort here — in a good mood, sometimes silly, but also serious when talking about how they manage this balancing act between threat and everyday life, what they are fighting for, what hopes they have, what values they are defending.
DASHA: worked in the USA, couldn’t stand it there anymore and returned to Ukraine three months ago — as a volunteer with the Kyiv Defenders.
ANYA: fled to Croatia with her children at the beginning of the Russian invasion, but after a while she couldn’t stand being idle there any longer and also returned. Today she is a drone operator on the front lines.
NATALYA: is a teacher, internally displaced person from Donetsk and works as a city guide in Kyiv. We are talking about possible cooperation with a kindergarten or a school in eastern Ukraine.
DARYA: I don’t know if she is also from Eastern Ukraine. She shows me around the Lavra and Pechersk and tells me interesting facts about the time when Ukraine was a Soviet republic. She definitely doesn’t want to go back to that time.
Life in Ukraine has become more difficult for many people because of this damned war: the supply situation is complicated, the energy infrastructure is being destroyed faster than it can be rebuilt. The tourism sector has collapsed, and only a few foreigners dare to travel to Ukraine.
And then the question keeps coming up: „Do people in the West still support Ukraine? What is the mood like in Germany?“ I can only answer that we, the Ukraine Helpers, are here and will continue. We will stay in touch.
Purpose number 2 of my trip accomplished!
GOOD NIGHT, KYIV!
On the last evening of my stay, the power is cut again. I gather my things in the semi-darkness and clean most of the apartment in the dim light. I book a driver for the next morning via Bolt App to take me to the bus station.
EDELWEISS AND AZOVSTAL
Five days are not nearly enough to really get to know a city as multifaceted as Kyiv, let alone the whole of Ukraine. Just describing the few sights that I was able to see would fill a book (it’s almost finished). My trip was and remains just a flying visit that makes you want more. And my report here leaves out a lot — maybe another time.
While I am waiting relaxed to enter the world of dreams, a few images still run through my head:
One afternoon with no appointments, I strolled along Khreshchatyk, the wide boulevard that divides the Maidan, in search of a historic market hall. Khreshchatyk is lined with huge building complexes in the Stalinist confectionery style, some with passageways and forecourts. Apart from the architectural style, you could think you were on Kurfürstendamm in Berlin, only much more pompous: luxury clothing stores, large department stores, cafés, bistros, restaurants; on the wide sidewalk every few meters a stall selling ice cream, coffee, croissants, kebabs or a kiosk; in fact, everything you need for strolling and shopping in a metropolis, and many families go there in their free time.
I treated myself to coffee and macarons on this boulevard and enjoyed them on a bench in beautiful weather.
On the way home I cross to the other, less busy side of the street and the war in the east catches up with me again in front of the city council building, because a huge banner hangs from there reading „AZOVSTAL — FREE MARIUPOL DEFENDERS!“ In fact, even today, more than two years after their surrender, most of the defenders of Mariupol are still in Russian captivity. Rarely is one of them on the prisoner exchange lists. Vigils for relatives are held regularly in Ukrainian cities so that they are not forgotten.
And then there are several shot-up cars from a shock reconnaissance brigade from Kherson in front of the council building; a sign provides information about this unit and calls for donations to buy a new vehicle under the subject „BO Edelweiss“. Further information boards and appeals for donations for vehicles line the forecourt of the building.
In the east of the country, people are losing their lives for Ukraine, further west it is much more peaceful. The signs and banners remind us that a state is a large community, like an organism. Nothing and no one survives without cooperation and mutual dependability. Those who do not have to fight in the narrow sense are called upon to support, otherwise collapse will eventually threaten. That is the bitter logic of war.
DEPARTURE
June 05, 2024: Of course, today, just before I have to drive to the bus station, there is another air raid alarm; it doesn’t bother anyone on the street. The alarm then ends 10 minutes before I have to leave.
The apartment keys have been handed over, the Bolt driver turns up at the agreed location right on time. And of course there is a traffic jam on the way to the bus station and it’s tight. And of course (I should have guessed this) the bus is late. So why the rush?
And of course the kiosk at the bus station where I buy a large coffee and two pieces of cake as “food for the march” doesn’t accept credit cards this time (the machine is broken!) and my banknote is too big to be changed so early in the morning and I don’t have enough Ukrainian change. And now the bus is coming!
And the soldier on home leave who was standing next to me at the bus stop and had just bought something at the kiosk before me kindly paid the remaining amount. Slava heroyu!
… and a thousand thanks!
The 30-hour return journey by bus does not go entirely according to plan. We spend some time at the border because a young man on the bus has to prove that he is registered in case he is drafted and that he has permission to leave the country. Otherwise, the only people on the bus are women, children and a few old men. When entering Poland, all Ukrainians are subjected to an eye scan; the Polish border authorities take this very seriously.
I’m looking forward to my homeland — I really am! But I would have liked to stay longer. I will come back, that’s for sure, despite the war.
