How a four-year onslaught has changed Ukraine

Subscribe to enjoy similar stories. THE BOMBARDMENT began just after 4am on February 24th 2022. For the half-dozen border guards at the Vilcha checkpoint, 150km north of Kyiv, the odds of surviving were not good.

Rockets smashed their corrugated-iron booths to pieces in an instant. Only quick thinking from Senior Lieutenant Sashko “Buddy" Suprun saved the men from annihilation. Hearing the incoming whirr he shouted to drop back, and they watched from dugouts a few metres away.

Armed with little more than assault rifles, rocket-propelled grenades and a machinegun, they braced for the next attack: the 700-vehicle-strong armoured column heading their way. The guards were a close-knit family. For years the men and women of the unit lived side by side in the village, on the edge of the Chernobyl exclusion zone.

They were friends, spouses, godparents to each others’ children. “Baloo", the 23-year-old unit commander, had just celebrated the birth of his first child. Lieutenant Suprun, then 31, was a passionate cook who dreamed of opening a restaurant.

“Hassid", 35, who drove the armoured personnel carrier, had fought the Russians in several tours in occupied Donbas since 2014. Signalman “Koshyk," 33, the most seasoned, had served at Vilcha on and off since 2010. That winter morning changed their lives for ever.

“Life turned upside down," says Baloo. “Before, I had plans, I had hopes." Across the country, Ukraine’s border service paid the initial price of Russia’s invasion. On the first day 20 guards were killed, 59 injured and 85 taken prisoner.