From EUROMAIDEN Press: Only sickly skinny dogs, hermits, and random passers-by remain in this city. Only soldiers with faded tired eyes – the last island with a spark of life.
They know how to fight for life and how to die. The city shudders from the shells landing nearby; doctors and medics chainsmoke, a thick coat of black smoke envelopes all.
This is a so-called stabilization point – professional doctors work tirelessly on the wounded soldiers and bring them back from the brink of death. “From 50 to 100 wounded per day”, says the surgeon.
He is covered in blood, but smiles and laughs. He says he’s 22, but he looks 10 years older. You don’t get any younger in a war.
“Heavy injury! Get out of the way! Make way, make way!” A naked body is on the operating table. In the trash bin in the grey corridor – an army jacket, caked in blood and soil.
“He’s alive, stable… get him on the evacuation bus!” He’s breathing heavily under the golden thermal blanket. Slow, loud breathing. This is definitely no place for prayers; no time as patients come and go on the operating table.
Doc laughs again and hugs me tightly: “I’ll see you soon probably.” I smile at him; there’s an invisible bond between us… and I know I’ll be back soon.
The city lives as long as we fight, Doc. Missiles and shells explode everywhere, but you’re still fighting.
Ukrainian photographer Julia Kochetova covering the work of combat medics of the 93rd Kholodny Yar Separate Mechanized Brigade, Hospitaliery and the Pyrohov First Volunteer Mobile Hospital.