«I don`t want russia here — it only kills»: how does fronline Kramatorsk lives on a distance of 12 km from the warzone
EnglishRussian occupiers are already targeting Kramatorsk in the Donetsk region with precision strikes. Knowing that civilians are being caught in the crossfire, the russians carry out daily drone and missile strikes, dropping aerial bombs on high-rise buildings and private homes.
The «gray zone» is edging closer to Kramatorsk every week. The city, located 12 kilometers from the front line, is suffering dailyw, without exception, from rocket and airstrikes, as well as drone attacks targeting homes, vehicles, and civilian infrastructure. The security situation is deteriorating by the day. Before russia’s invasion in 2022, Kramatorsk had a population of over 147,000, and today approximately 60,000 residents remain there.
The city center, which was still relatively intact just a few months ago, has been under fire for the past two weeks. The attack launched by the occupiers on March 11 left behind more ruins and people — wounded, with the walls of their homes destroyed.
For several weeks now, warning signs have been posted on the outskirts of Kramatorsk stating that this is a dangerous area, unprotected from enemy FPV drone attacks. And although the price of ignoring these warnings is human lives, civilians still remain in this frontline city, clinging to the hope that the front will miraculously stop short of engulfing Kramatorsk. Journalists from «Vchasno» witnessed how people are surviving near the front lines, holding onto the hope of staying home.
«What kind of „liberation“ is it when they want to kill you in your own bed…»
Every morning after the nightly shelling, Kramatorsk comes to life with the rumble of machinery heading out to clear the debris and the chatter of utility workers. People speak quietly among themselves, as if casually discussing what they went through just a few hours ago.
«I thought I wouldn’t make it through the night. The first time it „banged“, I even ran out into the hallway. I stood there for a while; it seemed quiet. But as soon as I laid down, I heard it coming. I couldn’t fall asleep until morning», — says one of the utility workers to her colleague as she clears broken glass from the building’s windows.
The nighttime shelling on March 11 frightened a significant number of local residents. The occupiers fired several high-explosive aerial bombs at the city center, targeting areas consisting exclusively of civilian buildings, residential homes, restaurants, and shops. For Kramatorsk residents living in this neighborhood, the blast wave shattered window panes and, in some cases, even blew open interior doors.
«I live near the park, a little away from here. My windows are still intact, but the blast wave blew them open. I woke up at four in the morning from the explosion and didn’t know what would happen next. Forty minutes later—another explosion! A bomb fell here today, and tomorrow it will fall on my house», — Yevgeniy, a resident of Kramatorsk, recounts the events of the night.
A man shows fragments of an aerial bomb he collected in the central square. Traces of the blast remain on the walls of buildings and on the pavement. All of this serves as yet another reminder that the russians will not hesitate to use explosives even against civilians, whom they supposedly began «rescuing» back in 2014. Yevgeniy gestures emotionally: even if the smallest fragments found were to hit a person’s body, there would be almost no chance of saving them. And the occupiers are deliberately shelling neighborhoods still densely populated by civilians—adults and children—with such deadly shells.
«I'm russian, but I don’t want to go to russia. I was born and raised here, and I don’t want to go there. Because, excuse my language, why the f***k do I need those ‘liberators'? If you’re going to „liberate'“ something, then liberate it—don't wreck the city! All that’s left of the cities after their „liberation“ are ruins. Pokrovsk, Bakhmut—they're gone! And they say they’ve liberated. Who? No one! Just the territory. And to rebuild even part of the neighborhoods, those destroyed buildings, it will take at least 30 years. This is official information from the russian officials themselves, who came to see the results of the „liberation“ and were horrified by what they saw. Will I live to see those 30 years? No, not even close. And how much more will they destroy. That’s what these monsters are doing,» the Kramatorsk resident exclaims in outrage.
Dozens of people are gathering near the buildings damaged by shelling. They are clearing the broken glass from the ground alongside city workers, as there aren’t enough of them. Every day, they are involved not only in cleaning up after the attacks but also in clearing the city of trash, dry grass and preparing Kramatorsk for spring. There are few people, so locals have to help out on their own.
It is dangerous to walk beneath the windows of buildings where a missile struck: shards of glass and concrete are falling from the upper floors, and people are throwing out piles of debris that used to be window frames, dishes, or pieces of furniture. What lies ahead for the damaged homes remains unknown. The only way to help the affected residents of Kramatorsk is to board up the windows with plywood or plastic sheeting.
A couple living on the first floor of the damaged building has been throwing glass out of their shattered balcony since early morning. The man says there is almost no hope that their apartment will remain intact (due to both the weather and the shelling). The commission that will soon arrive to assess the damage is unlikely to help either. All the representatives can do is document the damage so that people can apply for the «eVidnovlenya» program.
««We're waiting… We’ll wait until the commission arrives. We don’t know yet what they’ll tell us, but what can they do… Nothing. They’ll see that the house is in ruins, note it in the report. And we’ll have to figure out for ourselves what to do next,» says the man, shaking the glass off the broom he’s using to sweep the balcony floor.
Zoya Grygorivna, a 79-year-old resident of Kramatorsk, was forced to return to Kramatorsk from western Ukraine due to rocket attacks in March. The blast shattered the windows in her apartment, so she had to buy tickets and travel under the threat of drones and rockets to board up the windows and return to her children in the Lviv region.
«A window was smashed to pieces. Tomorrow I’ll look for someone who can board up the windows and doors, then I’ll lock everything up—and leave. I’m already scared here. Especially since a huge shard of glass crashed into the couch where I usually sleep. If I’d been lying there, it would have killed me. I’m really scared here, so I left before New Year’s,» — says the woman
On the verge of tears, she looks around the apartment and admits that she feels she is unlikely to return to live here, even though she has spent her entire life in Kramatorsk and worked as a professor at the university.
«My birthday is on March 11, and I’m looking for someone to help me fix my broken windows,» sighs a resident of Kramatorsk.
Businesses cannot withstand the shelling, the aftermath of which they have to clean up at their own expense
Along with residential buildings, some of which are left without windows or doors every night, businesses in Kramatorsk are also suffering. Some business owners are already packing up and closing down or moving to neighboring regions. Iryna, the owner of a coffee shop that was damaged by an explosion back in early February, explains: she had to pay out of her own pocket to replace the windows in her shop, clean up, and buy new equipment to replace what was damaged by debris. The repairs and purchases cost 60,000 hryvnias, which she now needs to at least recoup. However, she doubts she will be able to do so.
«One rocket hit at the end of the summer, I didn’t have any windows left — the explosion was so powerful it blew the house apart. Then an aerial bomb landed nearby in the fall, and now the neighboring area is under fire. Even if we aren’t hit, people are scared. When you’re afraid for your life, you don’t have the heart for coffee,» Irina explains.
The woman adds that in recent months she has been seriously considering relocating her business to the Dnipropetrovsk region or closing the café altogether. Demand in Kramatorsk has dropped compared to the summer or early fall. Every shelling makes the situation even worse.
Oksana, the owner of the flower shop «Le Buton,» adds: As the front line approaches, more and more people are leaving, and sales are dropping. For now, what keeps business owners here is the realization that they’re not just trying to sell something, but are providing jobs for local residents. However, when the front line moves even closer and the city becomes a bit more dangerous than it is now, they’ll have to close up shop and leave. Especially since there’s no help whatsoever from the city administration after the shelling—just rent hikes and higher utility bills.
«Our employees have been with us for years, but they’re all focused on what kind of living conditions they’ll be able to manage. Given the reality we’re living in, there’s no guarantee that everyone will come to work tomorrow. We understand that soon people will pack their things and leave because of the shelling. Our employees, just like us, are living one day at a time,» says the businesswoman.
Kramatorsk — the last rear hub in the Donetsk region, but it is already becoming deadly dangerous
Kramatorsk is a city where people are being evacuated from other frontline towns. Today, most of them are coming from the Druzhkivka area. However, people are no longer staying overnight at the local shelter — volunteers transport them to neighboring regions on the same day, as spending the night in Kramatorsk is dangerous.
Volunteers are bringing those who have finally decided to evacuate to one of the main points. These are people who waited until the very last moment, hoping the war would not reach them. Most of them are seniors and people with disabilities. But the occupiers are ruthless—they are destroying everything around them. The city of Druzhkivka, which was still livable just six months ago, is now extremely dangerous. Peaceful evacuation trips here are over. Every time a volunteer goes out to pick up people, it’s a risk to their life.
Evacuees from this area are brought to Kramatorsk and handed over to other volunteers, who transport them further. With heavy hearts and tears in their eyes, people are leaving their native Donetsk region.
Another family from Druzhkivka is making their way from Kramatorsk to the Kharkiv region. A 12-year-old labrador named Marcel walks slowly alongside them, carrying a few bags of essential belongings. His owners took him with them during the evacuation, even though the dog is old and sick. He limps alongside his owner, not even realizing how lucky he is to have a family, since many people leave their pets behind to fend for themselves.
«My husband would have left everything behind in Druzhkivka — his belongings, some of his appliances, but not Marcel. He wouldn’t have gone anywhere without him. So we’re all evacuating together: me, my husband, Marcel, and our cat. We didn’t leave anyone behind, even though we took very few belongings with us», says a resident of Druzhkivka, who is leaving behind not only her home but almost her entire life.
Meanwhile, volunteers are helping the dog’s owner into the medical van, since he is unable to walk on his own.
Yevgeniy Tkachov, a volunteer with the «Proliska» humanitarian mission who is evacuating hundreds of people from the Druzhkivka district today, shrugs: the «gray» zone is steadily closing in on Kramatorsk. So soon, people watching the evacuation from neighboring towns will be forced to leave their homes as well, fleeing the hunt by enemy drones.
«People often ask me what the hardest part of evacuations is. And I’ll tell you: it’s not the bedridden elderly who have to be carried down on stretchers from the upper floors, nor is it fleeing from drones, or even the shelling. The hardest part is listening to their sorrow and pain for an hour while I’m driving them. Because they’re leaving their beloved homes, knowing they’ll never return, and ahead of them lies only «emptiness"—and in most cases, mere existence, not life. That’s why sometimes they don’t even cry; they howl and wail», says volunteer.
Locals try not to think about being evacuated from Kramatorsk itself. Many say, «Maybe they won’t make it here after all? Maybe we’ll hold out?» But those who have come here from Bakhmut, Pokrovsk, or other cities just sigh and reply, «We thought the same thing and held out until the very end.»
The reality is very harsh—Donetsk region, specifically Kramatorsk and Sloviansk, remains the occupiers' primary target in 2026. Everyone understands this, even if they don’t want to believe it. That’s why there’s a palpable tension in the air, along with a sense of dread. In the evening, locals go out to walk the streets of Kramatorsk and breathe in the air deeply to remember the scent of home, taking in every detail and appreciating its value.
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