In the pre-dawn darkness, the first Russian ballistic missile of the night strikes near the Dnieper River, its impact echoing below my hotel window. Before breakfast, cruise missiles and Shahed drones will follow. Next door, a soldier on leave and his girlfriend engage in passionate lovemaking, as if tomorrow may never come—a poignant possibility in a place where death lingers in the shadows, especially for those in uniform.
The Fourth Anniversary of Invasion
Today marks four years since Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine. Foreign dignitaries will arrive via special trains from Poland, offering pledges of support and admiration, only to depart before nightfall and the resumption of missile attacks. Ukraine then continues its fight, largely alone. It is crucial to avoid cynicism; few predicted Ukraine would remain largely free for even one anniversary, let alone four.
Vladimir Putin's 'special military operation,' intended to install a puppet regime within days, has instead resulted in largely frozen frontlines, mirroring the icy Kyiv pavements and the mighty Dnieper River. Ukraine has even made advances in some areas, but this comes at a staggering cost: over one million casualties on both sides and countless Ukrainians displaced as refugees.
Scars of Conflict
Cities, towns, and villages have been reduced to rubble, leaving children orphaned, wives widowed, and families trapped in their homes. Ukraine demonstrates remarkable resilience, defiance, and admiration, yet exhaustion is palpable. The country's main highway, the E40, which transports war supplies to the eastern front, now resembles a post-apocalyptic version of Britain's M1, with potholes as large as mortar craters.
Personally, I am war-weary. Returning home brings bad dreams, and I feel a desperate urge to do more. There is a looming sense that we are on the brink of a greater disaster, for which Britain remains wholly unprepared.
Memories of Early Days
Snow fell during our initial arrival in Kyiv in early 2022, with air-raid sirens wailing, streets barricaded, and largely deserted. Only at the main railway station, particularly platforms for westward trains, did crowds gather. It felt like a dystopian fantasy: a major European city under siege by the world's second most powerful military.
From the 23rd floor of a tower block on Kyiv's edge, we witnessed the critical battle for Hostomel airport, as the sole remaining resident, a violinist named Andrii, played polkas while windows shook. We also watched refugees cross a bomb-collapsed bridge over the Irpin River during a brief ceasefire, with an old man carried in a wheelbarrow.
One night, my room windows trembled as the Retroville shopping centre, miles away, was destroyed by a missile strike. By day, the constant rumble of artillery echoed from the famous cobbled hill, Andriivskyi Descent. Yet, Kyiv held firm.
Frontline Experiences
In the summer of 2023, we reached frontline trenches near Lyman. Departing in broad daylight, we came under heavy mortar fire, with Russian drones overhead spotting bomb impacts for gunners to adjust aim. This was our first encounter with drones, a weapon that has since revolutionized warfare, becoming the preeminent battlefield threat.
Military technology advanced rapidly. I recall a journey along a narrow country road to the Donbas town of New York, unaware that Russian assault units lurked nearby. A Russian reconnaissance drone passed over our military vehicle, highlighting the ever-present danger.
Loss and Sacrifice
Over four years, towns we frequented have fallen to Russian advances, and soldiers we spent time with are now among the fallen. Private First Class Vitalli Pasko from the Khartia Corps drove me to a drone position near Russian lines one summer night; on a later mission, his luck ran out.
Britons have also made sacrifices. In Lviv last week, we met Eddy Scott, a sailor from Dorset who arrived in Ukraine in October 2022. He noticed our British number plate; we noticed his artificial leg. In 2025, a Russian drone hit his vehicle during a humanitarian evacuation in Pokrovsk, costing him his left arm and leg. Now, he works at the Superhumans rehabilitation centre that aided his recovery.
Other Britons have given even more for Ukraine's cause. In Kyiv's Independence Square, Union Jacks stand among snow-encrusted flags, each representing a war casualty. Flags commemorate individuals like Colby Dolman, a 20-year-old former carpenter from Cleethorpes who died on the Zaporizhia front last year, and James Wilton from Yorkshire, killed at age 18 near Terny.
A Brutal Winter
The past winter has been particularly harsh, with Kyiv temperatures plunging to -20°C and Russians inflicting severe damage on the energy grid—a form of psychological warfare. We ventured across frozen river ice to speak with ice fishermen, retired shipyard workers who drop baited lines through half-metre thick ice.
'We're here for company,' one said. 'We hope the war ends this year, but Russian demands to surrender parts of Donbas are ridiculous.' A man on shore watched us, fearing we were a 'press gang' from military recruitment, intent on drafting pensioners to the frontline—a real concern given Ukraine's desperate manpower shortages.
This man, recently discharged as medically unfit, shared grim experiences: 'We suffered terrible casualties, and couldn't always retrieve them. Once, we cut off a foot and hand from a brigade commander's relative to prove death for compensation.' He added, 'I see such things nightly in my dreams.'
If this seems far-fetched, consider a soldier friend who decapitated a dead comrade trapped in wreckage under fire, so the mother could have a Christian burial—a stark example of war's psychological damage.
Uncertain Future
The future remains unclear. Tortuous peace negotiations, driven by a US President Ukrainians no longer trust, might yield a ceasefire, but many here, however weary, see it as a hiatus before Russia pushes again. Hopes rest on the gradual collapse of Russia's war economy.
This is the fifth winter of full-scale war; World War II had only six. Will that unwanted statistic be matched? Ukraine held, is holding, and will continue to hold on, resilient yet exhausted in the face of ongoing conflict.
