2 March. Day 7
I woke up early. I think it was the first time I got enough sleep during the war. It's been a week since it started, and again this unreal sense of time: peaceful life was like some other era. The neighbor had already left somewhere. I ran home to feed the cat and see how things were going. I walk not along the avenue, but through yards and side streets. It's easier to hide from a sudden shelling. I went past A.Ch.'s house. All quiet. Several hundred people are waiting in front of the supermarket “Obzhora”. Standing in the open is very dangerous. One nearby missile strike and dozens of people would be injured. There's a crowd outside the “Zerkalnyy” shop, too. Everything is fine at home. The cat has become very affectionate and does not leave my side. He is not used to being alone, he likes to be with someone all the time. I’m going back.
Terrasport has a morning rush. I. helps prepare breakfast in the kitchen while I join in unloading provisions. It is an ethical issue. People who lost everything had found refuge here. And we take a place from someone who needs it more than we do. I. recognized her trainer in our gym. She is alone with her child, no one else. I. jokes that she still has an unused monthly fitness membership card. There is the gym, the trainer is also here. Humor without laughter.
I was charging my phone in the hall and managed to text K. He told me that he was hiding with his family in the bathroom. There is water in the basement of their house, and the entryway with a shelter is locked. It's impossible to run in there after the air raid sirens. It’s a common story. I called my mom: everything is calm in the Kalmius area compared to what we have in there. There was a fire in a supermarket, they hear everything, but no air raids so far.
The lights went out at 11 o'clock. The battery is only 30% charged. There is a generator in the shelter, but it is enough only for a few light bulbs and sockets. A miracle! A.Sh. called me and asked where we were and how we were doing. He suggested we move to their house in the Western area. Seems like a good option. They live away from strategic pathways or facilities and have their own basement. I talked to I., she does not mind. It was decided that N. with her family would stay at Terrasport, where they were safe and provided with food and water, and we would make room for someone who needed it. We'll bring something extra. We ran to the garage to get the car, gathered some things and food and drove away N. Then we drove home to get what we would need at A.Sh.'s house.
I meet a neighbor in the entryway. S. puts his bags in the trunk and says that he would be leaving the city with his son and wife. He was at the checkpoint on the Zaporizhzhia highway, the UAF will let him through, but they warned him that they don’t know what was out there on the road - he would have to drive at his own risk. Offers to drive together. They are leaving in ten to fifteen minutes. We have to decide very quickly. I realize that we are not ready for this at all. We can't leave without letting A.Sh. know and without taking N. and her family with us. There is no cellular. We have to go to Terrasport to pick up N., bring them home to pack, then go to A.Sh. to warn them not to wait for us. That’s at least an hour.
“Besides, that's “at your own risk”. At MY own risk. Now I am responsible for my family and someone else's family. I decide not to leave. It's safer to stay now than to go anywhere.”
I ask S. where they will be going - he says he doesn't know. To get as far away from here as possible. We have nowhere to go either. S. leaves the keys to his apartment, there is some food in it, a bag of potatoes. We have no cellular, so we won't know if they will make it or not. We say goodbye.
This situation unsettles me. I realize that up to this point I had not seriously considered the possibility of leaving Mariupol. S. already had a similar experience and refugee instinct. We hadn't yet. Now, this thought is beginning to gnaw at me. We are besieged, the communications may be cut off permanently any time soon. The prospects are bad - the trap is slamming shut. If it were just the two of us with I., would we go?
We came to A.Sh. We have to clean the basement so that six people can be there comfortably. A.Sh. and his wife have two children plus the two of us. By his admittance, there's stuff in the basement from the previous owners of the house.
“While we were throwing out the old stuff, there is a heavy air raid somewhere nearby. The blast wave shakes the windows, something is pouring from above. Scared, we climb down and stand on each other's feet for half an hour.”
We finished cleaning up - it turned out pretty good. There's enough room, someone could even lie down. A.Sh. is a provident guy: he has several backup batteries for the flashlight, but, unfortunately, he doesn't have a generator. You can hear the clatter of engines from the neighboring yards - they have electricity. I. is constantly concerned about N.
We eat soup and porridge for dinner - just awesome. Already after sunset, the “Grad” missiles hit a power substation near the village, it seems. Hope for a quick recovery of electricity faded. My phone is almost dead, 5% left, and there's nowhere else to charge it. We sleep on the couch in the hall. It's cold. We hear barrages all the time, can’t much sleep. During the night, we meet several times with A.Sh. near the window - firing from the airport and at the airport. We see flashes, and the intensity of the fighting is quite high. We hope ours will give the "guests" from russia a good thrashing.
3 March. Day 8
Morning. Three degrees Celsius. Gloomy. No light or water. We look out the window, the clouds are moving fast and very low. Those aren't clouds! It's smoke! It looks like the Epicentr (hardware store - translator’s note) is on fire. We hear gunfire. With A.Sh. we conclude that ours must be killing some RSG at the city entrance. Suddenly there is a barrage of fire from all barrels and silence. Did they kill them?
Lull. On occasion, it is necessary to solve everyday problems. A.Sh. goes to the store, I. and I go for water. On the way, we see signs of shelling and a damaged house. It's creepy - we're all in the impact zone. A hit from the east is strange, logically it should have come from the west. There is a huge crowd at the humanitarian point in the boarding school on Zelinskoho. I. takes a line, and I go to see the situation. Two of the three tanks are already empty, there's no point in waiting - there's not enough water. We decide to take the empty cans to our apartment and come back earlier tomorrow. I. wants to visit her aunt.
“On the way, we hear the whistle of mortar shells several times. For the first time so close - flying over our heads. Aunt and her family live at the crossroads of Zelinskoho and Avenue in the nine-storey building with windows to the west. Very bad location.”
They behave somehow serenely: stay at home, and don't go down to the shelter. We talked for a while and go home to feed the cat. We decide to take it with us so we don't have to come here every day. It seems that soon it will be impossible.
We went to get water and come back with the cat. Between the college and the school, the wreckage of a “Tochka-U” missile is lying in a wasteland. The sight of this thing shocks us. That's what hit yesterday, and that's how the house we saw earlier was damaged.
“Now it all fits - it was launched from the east, somewhere in the occupied territories. But it is unclear what they wanted to get into. There are no military facilities here, people are hiding in the school and the college. Large caliber artillery, aviation, now ballistic missiles as well. All that's left is nuclear weapons. I wouldn't be surprised if these lunatics dared to do such a thing.”
A.Sh. is not back yet. I run to the store - he's still in line. I. wants to go to N. and suggest that they return to our apartment. For I. the main thing is that this way we will be closer to each other. She does not want to hear that it is more dangerous to live in an apartment and that they will have to get food and water themselves. We brought N. from Terrasport and went back to the Western area.
A.Sh. is not here yet. I run into the store again - he's still there, but he's already at the cash register. I wait outside. An airplane is heard and the line scatters. An explosion is heard somewhere far away.
Half an hour later, A.Sh. shows up at the door with two bags. It's about three o'clock, he's been in the store for five hours in total. Tells me how the system works. There is no electricity, so the scanners don't work. You go to the cash register with the goods, the girl writes the barcode into a notebook. Then she calls the guard to look at the price on the shelf and uses a calculator to add 20%. (Probably a surcharge for working in a high-risk situation.) And so she does with every product. It can take 10-15 minutes or more per customer. As a result, the only healthy thing he bought was milk. Of the pleasant stuff, there was beer. And some snacks and sweets. There's nothing else. A.Sh. says that after standing in line for so many hours, you buy everything, so you don't get the feeling that you're wasting your time.
In the evening we drank beer with salted peanuts, reminisced, and dreamed about how we would celebrate the end of the war. Discussed the situation on the fronts, the prospects - amateur analysis. We are glad that the entire civilized world is on our side. Aid and sanctions work, but not without difficulties. Russia wanted to attack Ukraine, but in fact, got a war against a dozen countries and international isolation. Something is glowing to the north, in the direction of the 23rd area. Maybe the power was on? (Actually, it was the “Port-City” Mall and the neighborhoods around it on fire. Figured that out later).
4 March. Day 9
In the morning we heard artillery shelling and again barrage fire from Flotska Street. We are waiting for it to subside a little since we need to get water from somewhere. It's a long way to the aid station and we have to cross Bakhchyvandzhi Street, where we think there's shooting, too. The idea is not very good.
We assume that RSG has entered the city and they are being shot off in the streets. So we decide that it is better to go down into the gully to the well. For a long time, we argue whether to go or wait, because there is no pause. Yet we move. We meet people with cans, they say that we have to go to the marine lyceum, the waiting there is longer, but safer. We get closer and realize what’s the problem. There is already close combat going on in the gully - AKs are being fired. I walk down a little bit to take a close look at it.
“Someone walks up to me, and I try to move to the side and step on something - a boot. I look closer, a body almost covered in garbage. It's not hard to catch the occasional bullet here. Let's get out of here.”
I remember that I have two full 10-liter cans in the garage. It's not far from here - two streets away, but now the slightest distance can become unattainable.
As soon as we return, a shell hits somewhere very close, debris hitting the roof with buckshot. We wait in the basement for about 20 minutes as usual.
A.Sh.'s son is seven years old. At this age, he is not yet capable of fully comprehending what is going on. But a child's mind absorbs and reflects the information in its own way. His games have become fatal, imaginary heroes are taking and killing each other more often. I am surprised to find out that, without knowing the concepts themselves, the guy simulates situations of betrayal, blackmail, psychological pressure, and execution.
It's time to go out. Somewhere very close by, smoke is billowing and you can hear the flames crackling, consuming their prey. The direction is my garage cooperative. The car is inside, and right now it's the most valuable of everything. The transport is an opportunity to get food and water, it's also an opportunity to escape. Let's go take a look. I have a bad feeling about this. The barn next to the garage cooperative gatehouse is on fire. No one was hurt. The firefighters won't come.
People came out of the neighboring houses, watching to make sure the fire would not go further. It seems that it won’t happen. This time we were lucky. The elderly guard excitedly tells me that it happened when he was chopping wood for the stove and was knocked over by a log. He tries to make a joke. He says that all cars are intact, and the situation is under control. The slate cracks in the fire.
We go with A.Sh. to get water cans. A shell hits again. Somewhere in the distance, but we hide in a pit just in case. At this time, I think that I could put the car in the A.Sh. yard, but it wouldn't do any good. The missile can also hit there. When we go out, there's some kind of iron thing right in front of the gate. When we went into the garage, it was not there. The half-ring was about 10 cm in diameter, and the ends looked like they had been cut with a torch cutter. I wanted to pick it up and throw it away so someone wouldn't get a flat tire, but it's too hot to hold in my hand. What a gift from the sky.
It is dark. The sounds of close combat and mortar shelling have ceased, but the silence of the night is occasionally interrupted by volleys.
“Somewhere very close, perhaps from a gully, two large-caliber guns are firing. One to the west, toward the airport, the other somewhere to the south, toward the checkpoint, not Melekino. The sound is stunningly loud. A gunshot, then the rustle of a shell, and after a while a barely audible explosion. Fortunately, there is no response.”
With A.Sh. we are trying to analyze what it means. And this obviously means that our troops have withdrawn from the airport and taken positions close to the western areas or even in the city itself. These conclusions are distressing because soon it may come to urban fighting and a bloodbath will begin.
