From the BBC:
“Ukraine: Kyiv residents
answer call to defend nation”
(Ukraine has been handing out
weapons to civilians to defend Kyiv.)
The man tightly clutching a rifle
at one roadblock could easily have been in his early 60s. We saw other men, in
jeans and trainers, taking up position: the luxury of camouflage protection not
possible in this moment of crisis. Makeshift roadblocks had been assembled. As
we ventured out into the streets of Kyiv on Friday, we encountered these men
and others who had answered the call to defend their nation. We found a tractor
and a delivery truck parked at strategic angles to block the path of any
incoming attacker.
In other cities, steelworkers are
reported to have welded new obstructions into place: forging their own
defences. And workers in a sewing factory who normally stitch uniforms have
been making sandbags. Across the country, patriotic Ukrainians are weaving
their own narrative and hoping their collective effort will count for something
in the face of Moscow's military might. The urgency of all this tells you many
fear it is a question of when - not if - they'll be face-to-face with the
advancing Russian forces. Today, in the heart of the capital, the streets are
mostly deserted. There are few people to enjoy the church bells. One man who
may have well heard the soothing chimes in this darkest hour is Ukraine's
president.
In the midst of what feels like
an existential battle, Volodymyr Zelensky has been carrying out a personal
mission of his own: touring the landmarks of this great city recording defiant
video messages to the Ukrainian people, vowing to stay and fight. Across this
vast country, families have been sending their own hastily made films to their
loved ones, reassuring them they are safe. But there are no impressive
architectural backdrops as in the president's videos. Instead you see the new
subterranean existence many are being forced to endure: makeshift beds, piles
of possessions, frightened pets. Car parks, basements, metro stations are all
now home for so many. Daily life has been upended as they wait anxiously for
the arrival of their would-be Russian occupiers. However, it was new life that
gave hope in one makeshift underground basement: a baby, delivered overnight,
entering a world which has changed beyond recognition in barely 36 hours. The
sense this brutal conflict is a gruesome relic of a bygone age is shared by
those enduring it first hand as well as those looking on in horror from afar.
An assault on a sovereign nation
- a grim theme of 20th Century history - is unfolding before our eyes. And a
video has emerged seemingly showing a Tiananmen Square moment. In it, a
solitary figure shuffles round a tank trying to halt its path. This is not 1989
and a Chinese tank. But a Russian instrument of war in 2022. Another video I've
just seen is too brutal to describe. So I won't try. But let me tell you it
shows the human cost - in sickening detail - of the aerial assault Vladimir
Putin is inflicting on the military of his neighbour.
There are considerable losses on
the Russian side too: far greater than the Kremlin had anticipated or would
acknowledge, is the latest assessment of the UK Ministry of Defence. Earlier in
the week, when it looked like a strike would indeed finally come, we found
cheerful defiance in Kyiv. In hindsight, most thought Putin may look to expand
his control in the Donbas region, hundreds of miles to the east. As we know
now, it was so much bigger than that.
(Students recite the national
anthem in Kyiv, Ukraine)
On Tuesday, we watched a group of
history students gather on a bridge and sing their national song, some with the
blue and yellow of the Ukrainian flag draped over their shoulders. There were
broads smiles and a joyful unity. That unity has not shattered but the ready
smiles are much harder to find. But there is not despair. As well as the joy of
new life arriving in one bunker, there are stories of basic human kindness
beneath the city's streets.
(Mark is preparing for the long
haul)
On Thursday morning, before the
fog of disbelief at the size and scale of Moscow's offensive had lifted, I met
Mark, a sales manager outside one metro station. He had been woken by the first
round of explosions and then helped his neighbours evacuate their building. In
my latest exchange of messages with him, he tells me he's now formed his own
subterranean band of brothers and sisters. They've been encouraged by the Kyiv
authorities to make petrol bombs to repel any Russian advance. But for now,
Mark's makeshift army is not on the frontline, but the platform edge. He tells
me they're helping each other in their new surroundings and in particular, have
been searching for people who are alone. "There are tears - lots of
them," he writes. "But I can say with joy in my heart that that
everyone here has faith in Ukraine." He says last night they sang hymns. "There
will be victory and everyone will contribute to this victory."
Kyiv is a city under strain and
under fearsome attack. But it feels united in spirit and strength and an
indominable determination to survive.
^ I, and the whole world,
continues to be amazed at how heroic the Ukrainian President, the Ukrainian Government,
the Ukrainian Military and the Ordinary Ukrainian Civilian is. I hope Russia is
watching and learning that they will never truly defeat Ukraine. ^
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