Kharkiv:
“It nearly feels like a ghost town,” lamented Tamaz Gambarashvili, the mayor of Vovchansk, an industrial settlement that has suffered devastating destruction due to relentless Russian attacks, a level of brutality that shocks even those familiar with Ukraine’s grim eastern frontlines.
Vovchansk may not boast an illustrious history, but its geographical misfortune is stark. Situated merely five kilometres (three miles) from the Russian frontier, dramatic drone footage released by the Ukrainian military this summer depicts a barren wasteland of devastation stretching endlessly.
And since then, conditions have continued to deteriorate.
“Ninety percent of the city centre lies in ruins,” stated Gambarashvili, a robust figure dressed in military uniform, who now hastily manages the remnants of Vovchansk from the regional hub of Kharkiv, located an hour and a half’s drive away.
“The bombardments from the enemy persist unabated,” he added with a frown.
An analysis of satellite images undertaken by the independent open-source intelligence organization Bellingcat reveals that six out of ten buildings in Vovchansk stand completely destroyed, with another 18 percent suffering partial devastation. The situation is even more catastrophic in the city centre, decimated north of the Vovcha River.
AFP, in collaboration with Bellingcat, embarked on a meticulous investigation documenting how an entire community was effectively erased from existence in a matter of weeks, while also capturing the profound human cost of this tragedy.
The astonishing speed of the destruction eclipses even the notorious devastation in Bakhmut, a city in the Donbas region that has become infamous for its fierce fighting, as stated by Lieutenant Denys Yaroslavsky, a Ukrainian officer who has experienced combat in both locations.
“Having served in Bakhmut, I’m aware of the shifts in battle dynamics there,” Lieutenant Yaroslavsky asserted emphatically.
“What unfolded in Bakhmut over several months transpired in a mere span of two to three weeks in Vovchansk.”
Invaded, then freed
Prior to the onset of the war, Vovchansk was home to approximately 20,000 residents, now existing only in the haunting recollections of those fortunate enough to escape.
Beyond its factories, the town was once proud to host a “medical school, a technical college, seven schools and numerous kindergartens,” as recounted by Nelia Stryzhakova, the head of the local library, while earning her living in Kharkiv.
The town even featured a workshop renowned for crafting “carriages for historical films.” “In our own unique way, we contributed to the cultural landscape,” insisted Stryzhakova, who is now 61.
Vovchansk was also home to a regional hospital, which had undergone a renovation in 2017 funded by nearly 10 million euros ($10.8 million) in German aid, a church that thrived during religious festivities, and a vast hydraulic machinery plant that once served as the region’s economic cornerstone. Today, its crumbling remains are a sought-after battleground for both warring factions.
The Russian army swiftly occupied Vovchansk after launching its invasion in February 2022, but a dazzling counteroffensive by Ukrainian forces reclaimed the town that autumn.
Despite frequent bombardments from Russia, the town experienced a period of relative tranquility. However, things took a dramatic turn on May 10.
Badly defended
Following weeks of exhausting combat 100 kilometres to the south, the Ukrainian 57th Brigade was regrouping near Vovchansk when a reconnaissance unit noticed something alarming.
“We identified two Russian armoured personnel carriers that had just crossed the border,” Lieutenant Yaroslavsky recounted, leading the unit during that pivotal moment.
This discovery marked the beginning of one of the most aggressive Russian offensives of the war, with Moscow dispatching thousands of troops to lay siege to the city.
“There were no defensive structures, no mines” to hinder their advancement, Yaroslavsky lamented, still seething over the “carelessness or corruption” that led to this dire situation.
“Seventeen thousand people have lost their homes. Why? Because crucial fortifications were never established,” the 42-year-old military officer expressed in frustration.
“Though we hold the city now, we’re left with nothing but a heap of debris,” he added, his tone heavy with despair.
In a show of urgency, President Volodymyr Zelensky canceled plans for an overseas trip to address the escalating crisis in Kharkiv, acknowledging that Russian forces advanced between five and ten kilometres into Ukrainian territory.
The residents of Vovchansk found themselves trapped in a continuous nightmare.
‘Drones like mosquitoes’
“The Russians initiated aerial bombardment,” shared Galyna Zharova, who resided at 16A Stepova Street—now a mere skeleton of rubble, as documented by satellite imagery analysis conducted by Bellingcat and AFP.
“We were directly on the frontline. There was no possibility of rescue,” added the 50-year-old, who now resides with her family in a university dormitory in Kharkiv.
“We huddled in the cellar. Buildings were engulfed in flames. For nearly four weeks, we were confined to basements until June 3,” her husband Viktor, aged 65, interjected.
Ultimately, the couple resolved to escape on foot. “Drones buzzed around us like wasps, like mosquitoes,” Galyna reminisced. They trudged several kilometers before finding refuge with the help of Ukrainian volunteers.
“The city was enchanting. The people were extraordinary. We had everything,” sighed Stryzhakova, the librarian. “No one could have foreseen that in just five days, we would be obliterated.”
The library she had managed, boasting a collection of 125,000 books at 8 Tokhova Street, was reduced to ashes.
More than half of eastern Ukraine’s families have relatives in Russia. In Vovchansk, before the Donbas conflict erupted in 2014, citizens frequently traversed the border for shopping, with Russians often visiting the city’s vibrant markets.
“Numerous mixed families exist,” said Stryzhakova. “Our connections—parents and children—are intertwined. Yet, we now find ourselves labeled as enemies. There is no other way to articulate it.”
The Russian defense ministry has yet to respond to AFP’s inquiries regarding its perspective on the situation in Vovchansk.
Mayor Gambarashvili, who himself suffered shrapnel injuries while facilitating the city’s evacuation, shook his head in despair when questioned about the estimated civilian death toll.
Numerous casualties are certain. Possibly more. Roughly 4,000 residents remained in Vovchansk as of May 10, predominantly older individuals, as most families with children had evacuated months prior.
Families divided by war
Kira Dzhafarova, 57, harbors fears that her mother, Valentina Radionova, who had lived on 40 Dukhovna Street in a quaint home with a beautiful garden, is likely deceased.
The last time they spoke was on May 17. “At 85, I’m not going anywhere,” her mother resolutely stated. Recent satellite images and witness accounts have confirmed the total destruction of her residence.
“Since that day, I’ve known that’s it for me,” Kira resignedly remarked, having provided DNA samples for potential identification when the conflict subsides.
In a cruel twist of fate, her mother, a Russian national, had relocated to Vovchansk to maintain proximity to her two children, whose relationship had soured.
Kira has now lived in Kharkiv for 35 years and became an official Ukrainian citizen two years ago. Her older brother—a supporter of Russian President Vladimir Putin—remains in Belgorod, the family’s ancestral hometown located just across the border.
Kira now refers to him as her “former brother.”
Volodymyr Zymovsky, age 70, is another individual unaccounted for. On May 16, he attempted to escape the onslaught alongside his 83-year-old mother, wife Raisa, and a neighbor in a car. Tragically, both Zymovsky and his mother were shot dead, “most likely by a Russian sniper,” according to Raisa’s account.
In the midst of flying bullets, the 59-year-old pediatric nurse barely managed to exit the vehicle before being seized by Russian soldiers and held captive for two days. She subsequently escaped, took refuge for a night in a neighbor’s cellar, and eventually made her way into the forest.
She recounted her harrowing journey with a calm demeanor. One thing unites her focus now: uncovering the remains of her husband and mother-in-law to afford them a dignified burial.
‘They took my son’
Amidst the chaos, rumors circulated among survivors regarding the bodies scattered across Vovchansk streets for days being disposed of in a mass grave. Precise details concerning this remain shrouded in mystery.
A scant number of civilians still exist in Vovchansk. Oleksandre Garlychev, aged 70, asserts that he saw at least three survivors when he returned to his old residence on a bicycle in mid-September in search of belongings.
Garlychev had lived at 10A Rubezhanskaya Street, situated in a less afflicted area of the city, leaving only on August 10.
Survivors of Vovchansk—some even among local officials—wonder if the city will ever be reconstructed, given its precarious location near the border, regardless of the eventual resolution of the conflict.
When asked whether forgiveness for her husband’s killer was possible, Raisa Zymovska fell into a long silence. Eventually, she whispered her uncertainty: “I don’t know, I truly don’t. As a Christian, perhaps. But as a human being… What can I say?”
As for Stryzhakova, she can no longer bear to open a Russian book—classics included—since her beloved son Pavlo was tragically killed in the Battle of Bakhmut.
“I recognize that literature is innocent, but my disdain is directed at Russia as a whole. They’ve taken my son, and it’s personal for me.”
(This story has not been edited by NDTV staff and is auto-generated from a syndicated feed.)
