The Donetsk region in eastern Ukraine has long been targeted by Moscow. Vladimir Putin has reportedly indicated he would freeze the conflict in exchange for complete control over the area.
Russia already holds 70% of Donetsk and almost all of neighboring Luhansk and is making steady, albeit slow, progress.
I’m traveling to the front-line town of Dobropillia with two humanitarian volunteers, only 8km from Russian positions. They are on a mission to relocate the sick, elderly, and children to safer areas.
Initially, everything goes smoothly as we swiftly enter the town in an armored car with rooftop drone-jamming gear, reaching speeds of 130km/h. The road is shielded by tall green netting to protect it from Russian drones.
This is their second trip of the day, and the streets are nearly deserted. Remaining residents venture out only briefly for supplies amid daily Russian assaults.
The town appears abandoned, having been without water for a week. Every building shows damage, some reduced to rubble.
In the previous five days, Laarz, a 31-year-old German, and Varia, a 19-year-old Ukrainian working for Universal Aid Ukraine, have made numerous trips to evacuate people.
A week earlier, small groups of Russian troops broke through defenses, raising concerns that Ukraine’s heavily fortified “fortress belt” front line might collapse.
Additional troops were dispatched, and Ukrainian officials state the situation is now stable. Nevertheless, most of Dobropillia’s residents feel it’s time to leave.
Upon arrival, Vitalii Kalinichenko, 56, stands at his apartment block’s entrance with a bag of belongings.
“My windows were shattered; I’m the last one left,” he says, wearing a grey t-shirt with a bandaged leg, pointing to a crater from a recent drone crash.
As we prepare to depart, a drone is spotted overhead. We take cover under trees as multiple Russian drones are detected.
An elderly woman with a shopping trolley quickens her pace after being warned about the drone. An explosion soon follows.
Before leaving, there’s another family to rescue nearby.
Laarz goes to find them, turning off the car’s drone-jamming equipment to conserve battery, instructing to activate it if a drone is heard. The jammer only works against some Russian drones.
Blasts occur in the area, and a woman fetching water with her dog seeks cover.
Laarz returns with more evacuees and drives out of town swiftly with drones still present.
In the convoy, I sit with Anton, 31, whose mother stayed behind. He hopes she’ll leave soon.
Front lines shift, and places change hands, but with Russia’s advance, this might be the last time Anton sees his home.
Anton has never left town before. Over engine noise, I ask if Ukraine should give up Donbas.
“We must negotiate and resolve this peacefully, without bloodshed,” he says.
But Varia, 19, disagrees. “We can’t trust Putin or Russia. Giving them Donbas won’t end it, just give room for more attacks,” she states.
The situation in Donbas becomes increasingly dire for Ukraine as Russia advances. President Zelensky dismisses suggestions it might be lost by year-end, predicting a four-year timeline for full Russian occupation without outside help.
Without additional Western aid, recapturing significant territory seems unlikely.
Donetsk’s defense is crucial for Ukraine. Losing it to Russia puts Kharkiv, Zaporizhia, and beyond at risk.
At a nearby field hospital, I see the toll on Ukrainian soldiers’ lives and bodies. With drones overhead, the injured are retrieved only at night.
Russian losses are higher but more absorbable due to its larger forces.
The wounded arrive as night turns to day, with casualties worsening. They’re from Pokrovsk, a city vital for Donetsk’s defense under brutal attack.
The injured include a man with a chest bullet wound, others with shrapnel, and one nearly losing a leg from a drone strike.
Snr Lt Dima, a 42-year-old surgeon, quickly treats patients before transferring them to a larger hospital. “I could do more, but time is short,” he says.
He too opposes ceding Donbas in exchange for peace, wanting territory and people back, and to hold Russia accountable.
Exhausted, he notes heavier casualties since Russia’s incursion, worse than any prior, mainly due to drones.
“We just want peace, free from this nightmare,” he says.
Leaving that afternoon, barbed wire glistens under the sun, next to trenches and anti-tank defenses to deter Russian advances.
Russia has over 100,000 troops poised to take advantage of any breaches.
Donetsk’s new fortifications reflect a worsening situation. While diplomacy might eventually determine its fate, Ukraine remains determined to fight for every inch.